WARNING:  Very raw post ahead. I don't intend it to be a "Debbie Downer" kind of post and I really debated about posting this blog but I wanted to share for several reasons.  1)  Lots of times in life, we show only our "highlight" reel.  Things we only want others to see and not the real, hard stuff of life.  2)  We want other adoptive families out there to know that they are not alone in their struggles.  3)  We want you to know that we may not return calls, texts or emails right now but we still love you.  4)  We need your prayers.


Someday I will write about all the craziness that we encountered when we were leaving China and entering Hong Kong.  About a crazy driver who called himself, "Master", a lady at the China border who didn't want to let us through because Alina wouldn't speak to her and about a lady in a mask at the Hong Kong border who was shooting at us with what appeared to be a radar gun (taking our temperature?).  Someday I will have to remember to tell you those stories.  But today I want to talk about transitions.

By the time we left China, Alina had become very attached to all of us.  I guess I was kind of blissfully ignorant when we headed for the US thinking that the hard part of the transition was over.  I didn't think about what was comfortable for us may not be comfortable for her.  New sights, new smells, new environment, an animal that walks around in the house.  It was all quite scary to her.  The first night and the next few nights we got little to no sleep.  Alina was up and unhappy and screaming and no matter what we did for her nothing would soothe her.  We slept an hour or 2 here or there but we were exhausted.  Caylee ended up sleeping away from home for 3 nights because the screaming was too much.  This little girl who had opened up so much to us in just a week, took some giant steps backward.  We were at a loss.  Everything you learn goes out the window.  "Now where was that chapter I read about 'Screaming, Scared Child?'".

Finally on Sunday and Monday we were able to get some steady sleep.  In the daytime she is fine and my goodness...things have changed so much.  She is sweet and loving and so funny!  Hilarious!  She is freely giving kisses!  She is singing songs.  It has been wonderful to watch.  But as soon as nighttime rolls around, the fear creeps in. 

Tonight was difficult again.  She didn't want to be held and if I tried to, she would just scream in my face.  I had to put her down on the ground (on the carpet) and let her cry  because she was starting to hit me.  There was nothing I could do.  Nothing I could say to help her.  I could just be there for her.  Only just let her know that mama is here and not going anywhere.  She finally settled.  To be honest, I think it was more out of sheer exhaustion.  She let me hold her.  I cried.  She fell asleep in my arms.  Afraid to move, I had to wipe my snotty nose on my sweatshirt because I didn't want to wake her.

As I looked into her sweet face, I realized that her pain and her loss became our pain and loss.  Adoption is beautiful but it also comes with loss.  Loss of her birthparents, loss of birth country, loss of everything she felt secure in.  We share in that loss with her.  We share in her pain.  She doesn't know yet what forever is and that we are forever.  What she knows is fear and she knows pain and we willingly share in that with her because we love her.

Don't hear me wrong, having a forever family is the best most wonderful thing that could happen for an orphan in China.  But this is no "happily ever after" story.  This is real life.  And about a little girl who is still in survival mode.  We will help her to walk through that and we will be there for her.  We are her forever family.