I have decided that the end of an adoption is like stepping into a warm room after being outside in the freezing cold for awhile. There is a huge initial sense of relief and comfort when the warmth hits you. And then, you begin to feel that uncomfortable burning sensation in the appendages of your body as they start to defrost.
I first stumbled upon this theory when London and I decided to take the boys on a walk over to the local highschool, to play on the football field and such. It was great, the boys loved it and so did London. Until we were on the walk home. It had gotten dark and was pretty cold and even though the boys had hats, coats, double socks and gloves covering every inch of their little bodies, they were getting cold. It typically doesn’t dip below 90 degrees in Haiti year-round, so hanging outside in the Utah cold is quite a new deal for these guys. They were crying and I was walking faster and faster to get us all home to warm up. We got inside and they were happy for about 60 seconds, until their hands and feet started to “defrost.” We native Utahns are well aware of this defrosting period, but to two little guys from the Caribbean, I’m sure it felt like their hands were on fire. They were crying and shaking their hands and feet until we all huddled in a little family ball and warmed them back up again.
Now you wouldn’t want to stay out in the cold just to avoid this defrosting period, and the warmth that comes after is well worth it, but it is a bit of a transition. Same with adoption.
We arrived home with the boys just a little over 3 weeks ago. And it has been a whirlwind. The first few days (including our adventures traveling home) were and still are a complete blur and they have been pushed to the back of my psyche were they shall forever stay until they can become one of those funny stories about an incredibly weird and difficult experience. The weeks following have been a compilation of every emotion imaginable. Excitement, gratitude, relief, fear, guilt, sorrow, hope, love, happiness, exhaustion, etc., etc. It has been so fun to have these guys here at last. And, like my little analogy, a somewhat painful transition as well.
London has been amazing. She is already such a great big sister and is so proud to show the boys to everyone she knows. I have really tried to give her some special one on one time just me and her and sometimes I think I need it more than her. She is obsessed with little Ashley and would be content to just sit with him in her lap hugging him all day long. She and Mickenson have already had their share of battles, which I am sure will likely continue in the years to come. They are very much alike, full of fire and imagination, and hey, they are siblings, they will love and hate each other at times. I think they will be very good for each other.
Mickenson is a fighter. I can only imagine what this guy has been through in his short little life thus far. And he has learned to take care of himself. Everything about Mickenson says, “I am a tough little dude.” His attitude, his smile, even his walk. He is a fighter, and I love that about him (even if it makes it hard when he is fighting me). With that said, he also loves to be loved. He is learning English pretty quickly and has learned to say “I love you too, mom.” I tell both boys that I love them all day long, and it is the absolute best to hear Mickenson say it back. He loves to be held, if he is not in the middle of creating some kind of destructive game, and will hug and kiss me without request. He is also very smart. I have never been one of those, let-me-brag-about-my-brilliant-child kind of people, but since these kids have not inherited one ounce of their talents from me, I feel ok about it. He loves to learn, has mastered every English flash-card we have in the house and is meticulous about building and construction, with legos, blocks, books, animals, food, whatever. He is going to be starting preschool in a couple of weeks and is so excited about it. I think it will really help his English and social skills to be around other little children his age.
Ashley is a little ball of love. Seriously, if you ever want to feel complete bliss, just let Ashley climb up on you and hug and kiss you for a minute. It’s pure heaven. He is the happiest 2 year old I have ever met (with a close runner-up to my niece Adelaide, they are hilariously oblivious together). He laughs at
everything. He eats
everything. And he loves
everyone. One day I guess I will have to teach him about stranger danger because he will immediately put his arms up to anyone willing to pick him up and give them a giant hug. At the present, he has decided to speak his own unique language. Since none of us were making any sense to him, I guess he decided to create his own names for things. But he definitely knows how to say mama. He probably says it about 10 billion times a day. He has become my little shadow and follows me from room to room, and from one end of that room to the other. He follows me so close I keep tripping over him, which doesn’t seem to phase him as he simply gets up and follows me again. He loves me so much for no reason at all other than I am his mama. There is just no greater feeling in the world than to have a little child just absolutely adore you. And I just absolutely adore him. The first thing I want to do in the morning is go wake up Ashley. We are in love.
Micah... I’m not sure I can adequately describe the rock that Micah has been for all of us through these past 4 weeks (our week in Haiti included). A rock I tell you. I have loved Micah for years, but fell even harder after this experience. It is remarkable how you can gain a whole newfound love and respect for someone who is there for you during a time of pure need. In my moments of panic or fear, he has stayed strong and loves his role of taking care of his family. He is a great dad and I and my kids are lucky to have him.
Blah, blah, blah, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful. But like I said, this has been and still is a freaking hard transition and our hands and feet aren’t quite defrosted yet.
There are plenty of times throughout the day when we all struggle. Mickenson is 5 years old and everything he has ever known is now gone. He doesn’t know how to communicate all of the emotions that he must have going on inside of him and that is tough for a 5 year old. It is tough for a 32 year old. He cries, I cry, we cry together. Ashley seems completely oblivious to all of the changes that he has gone through in the past month, like I said, happiest toddler I have ever seen. But, he is two and has his two-year old moments as well. London has had her moments too where she is grieving the loss of her world as she knew it and dealing with the craziness of our newly full house. And finally, I certainly have my many moments throughout the day when I wonder what in the world I am doing. Am I good enough, patient enough, strong enough to do this. I am so glad that I have help - my family, my friends, my church, my work, my Micah and my mom. I couldn’t do this without my mom. I think several times a day that if I can be as a good a mom as her, I will have made it.
For those of you still reading, I would like to say thank you for your support and for letting me express my own emotions, experiences, and transitions through this silly little blog (well I guess you didn't really "let" me, it's my blog and I can do whatever I want with it, ha). Writing is therapeutic for me. I haven’t decided if I will continue this blog or bring it to a close. I really only started it for this crazy adoption road, which has seemingly and finally come to an end. But I guess the road hasn’t really ended, so we’ll see.....
assuming tv-watching positions - love disney
first bath
ashley in his rad leather jacket from his cousing benny that he wears all around the house
mickenson
he wanted to show how tough he was by carrying the garbage bag all by himself... cuz he's got muscles
toughness
at the zoo - they loved it although ashley was sure that the tigers were going to eat him
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