Sometimes I think about the journey that has brought my children here to America, and I am overwhelmed. I met with Michael’s teachers today and with the counselor about his 504 plan [minor modifications due to his missing hand]. I was later browsing through some adoption books on the Tapestry site and I thought my God, what a long journey they have made.
Michael told me last night the only time he got decent coats in Kazakhstan was when outsiders came to the orphanage. He was always cold there, and he stayed sick a lot. He was cold and malnourished. Alesia and Michael both had to scrounge for clothes and wore things that were ragged and worn, and never the right size, and they only got clean clothes once or twice a week.
My children left behind everything that was familiar, and came to a place that was like another planet. Russia and Kazakhstan are much like 3rd world countries.The poverty my kids knew was severe. America is clean, warm, and nobody abuses them here. They sleep in a bed all their own here. They get food and vitamins every day. Those facts alone are a total contrast to the world they had known.
I will never forget the tiny, white, scared little boy that came home with me in 2007. He was smaller than the first graders I taught in vacation bible school that summer. He clung to me fiercely when I had left him and got home. Now he is a growing adolescent, almost as tall as me [he grew almost an inch in the past two months] but he still has times, every other day or so, when he just wants to be held. All the affection he missed, I am trying to replace, and that’s OK. That’s my privilege.
With Alesia, affection is much more difficult – she was rarely ever hugged until age 12. She has asked me for a hug maybe half a dozen times in nearly 5 years. It’s tough for her with me, although she hugs her friends.
Sometimes I am overwhelmed by simply this sad fact: my kids walked out of their orphanages with everything they owned in one small plastic bag, the size of a grocery bag. There were no toys, no family photos, no keepsakes, nothing. I have no medical on Alesia from before age 6. I only have medical on Michael because the social worker at his orphanage gave me the small booklet containing all his medical notes since birth after I specifically asked.
Michael’s teachers today all said the same thing; he is doing well, and he is a smart, good boy. He just needs to be more proactive in asking for help if he doesn’t understand. He is shy about that. I explained to them that there are still a lot of words in English he doesn’t know, and he also usually needs extra time on writing assignments. I also explained that the words “hurry up” often freak him out.
I told them about Michael doing an entire science project yesterday on his own, on the computer. I helped him get started, but then I had to deal with a phone repairman and start dinner. When I went back to check on him, it was done, and done well. They don’t realize what an immense achievement that was for him.
In Kazakhstan he never had to do projects in school. He couldn’t use a computer for schoolwork. The first project he ever had to do here, I pretty much did it for him, a poster about Africa. It has taken a lot of time and patience to get him to be able to do his own projects.
It pains me to think about the children still in the orphanages. It keeps me awake at night sometimes. I see their faces.
I have advocated for several children to be adopted, since I finished my adoptions. One boy just came home a few weeks ago. He was adopted by a very loving couple and he should be fine, with a bit of extra help. He is 14. Few people are willing to adopt a 14 year old boy. Few people are willing to adopt a 13 year old girl, or a 10 year old handicapped boy.
Few people will ever know the amazing love these children have to give, and their unbounded potential, and that’s the real tragedy.
Maybe I am naïve. Maybe the fact that my kids are relatively easy to manage distorts my view. We’ve had challenges in my house, but what parent doesn’t have challenges? I know other parents have a terrible time with older adopted kids, in some instances. The media loves to focus on the horror stories. The good stories aren’t news. I just wish more people would give these kids a chance. You often hear only the negative stories.
There are many stories out there of families who have successfully and happily adopted older children. I wish I could start a website dedicated to people who adopt older children and have good outcomes. Not a “hearts and flowers” type of site, but a site with practical information and resources, and inspiring stories. Maybe one day I can find the time and funds to start such a website. Until then, recounting my journey here will have to suffice.
