The Tough Part

For a while, things were really getting worse rather than better. Phoebe had been a securely attached kid, and then we spiralled down in the month of October. Suddenly she was wrapping her arms around mylegs and wailing "Don't go work! Stay with me!" complete with bigtears down the cheeks. Once she even said, as I tried to leave the house, "I scared." Bedtimes turned into disaster, and Phoebe was rejecting any comfort from Mark if I was in the house. There were up to six awakings in the night where the peaceful child suddenly shrieked in fear until I woke her up by gently shaking her shoulders. Twice she verbalized to me the contents of her nightmares, "I don't like that fish" and "I don't like those people scare me"-- what goes through her little head in the middle of the night? One night I heldthe exhausted Phoebe in my arms as she fought sleep with closed eyes and her fingers in her mouth, protested "I don't want go sleep" every few minutes. When I finally got a blessed day off of work when I wasn't post-call, Phoebe couldn't even enjoy the time together. She instead spent the day whining and clinging and generally beingmiserable. By the time Mark came home, I was pretty much just as miserable as she was.

So back to the old ways-- I read a book, the Connected Child, which reminded me not to get frustrated, but to meet her with kindness and respect as I teach her what she needs to know. I activated my support squad of friends we traveled with in China, and they offered an outpouring of suggestions. We gave up on the Big Girl bedtime routine, and pulled Phoebe back into bed with us, where she hadn'tbeen since last Spring. The Ergo came back. There was an intense weekend of playing on the floor, looking into Phoebe's eyes, and going nowhere. I let the girls visit me at work, where they got to see pregnant bellies and weigh themselves. I let Phoebe sit on my lap for dinner, and snuggle as much as we could. Back to giving her whatever she needed to feel safe and secure.

What I couldn't figure out is this: How much of this should I attribute to Phoebe's personality, how much to typical toddlerhood, and how much to adoption? And second, is this a bump in the road, or a major turning point towards a longterm attachment issue? My pediatrician told me, essentially, that I'm reading too many books. He said that children's memories are short and that at this point all Phoebe can remember is our family, so I should forget about adoption as an issue. I felt like I was walking this tightrope, not wanting to over-diagnose my child, but at the same time, not wanting to miss something important.

She responded really well to our efforts, and in less than a week after we hit bottom, we had a bedtime without crying. Admittedly, that was because I was in bed with her as she fell asleep, but at least the nightmares disappeared and the fear factor started to resolve. Last week I said goodbye and Phoebe barely looked up from her puzzle to say "bye" while I kissed her forehead-- like old times, when parting was just part of the routine instead of a traumatic event.

By the time we got to our appointment with our international adoption specialist, I think we knew that we had just hit a bump in the road,and that Phoebe was going to pull through just fine. Phoebe hadn't been there in a full year. They gave her a full developmental assessment, which delighted Phoebe. She kept asking, "More games, please, can we do more?" My goodness, she's learned a lot in a year. Last year the challenge was to lift up a hankerchef to find a little toy hidden under it. This year I watched her thread little beads onto a shoelace and point to pairs of associated objects picked out of aline-up. Rather amazing. At one point the doctor said something that registered in my mind as "Do you know how lucky you are?" My eyes filled up with tears. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. She closed the two hour visit by saying, "I don't think she has an attachment disorder. Come back if you need us."

So now, we are in recovery mode. Phoebe went to bed for Mark with no tears last week while I was on-call, and last night let Mark put her to bed while I was in the house-- the first time in weeks. We have back-tracked in many of the areas where we had previously worked really hard for progress. While I'm happy we don't have tears or fearat bedtime this week, we are now laying in bed with Phoebe until she falls asleep, even if that takes an hour or two, and the rest of the night is a game of Musical Beds. Last night I made Phoebe follow the old rule of "You don't sit my lap at the dinner table until my plate is empty," which meant that we enjoyed our pasta while Phoebe howledat my side. While it didn't make for a very peaceful meal, it did feel good to be returning to firm rules. A few weeks ago, Phoebe reacted to that kind of rule with a real fear of rejection and abandoment. Now she is back to being a normal toddler again. The next step is to start "sleep training" again, just like we did last spring, with the slow movement of the parental chair further and further from her bed each day. We graduated from co-sleeping once, and now we'll have to graduate again.

What happened? At the international adoption clinic they seem to think it was just too much change-- moving, losing our old nanny,adding our au pair to the house, starting preschool, changing the season (Phoebe hated the new fall shoes, fall pajamas, fall jackets),and having mama boldly go away for a weekend with friends. "She was letting you know that she's vulnerable," they said. "It won't be the last time. But each time it will be a little shorter than the last." At this point, we are pretty happy with that.

Deep Into the Fall

The leaves are changing in New England, and my dragon and bumble bee are ready for Halloween. Long gone are the lazy days of summer where the girls could shout out ideas of what they wanted to do each day. Miranda and Phoebe are now full-fledge school girls, five days per week.

Phoebe officially "phased in" after about 7 days of having Sonja in the toddler room at school. A few days later, I had the brilliant idea of bringing the kids to school on my post-call day off. I wanted to be a "good mom"-- you know, the type who actually gets to hold her kids' hands as they walk into school together, greet their teachers, say hi to the other parents, and kiss their kids goodbye. Miranda-- no problem. Phoebe-- wrapped her little arms around my neck and said "I want to go home. With you." Reasonable, for a child who hasn't seen her mother in 24 hours. I think my sleep deprivation had clouded my judgement. The teacher pulled a chair into the Toddler House, and Phoebe cowered in my arms for an hour until she suddenly decided she was ready to engage in the activity of class. I spent the rest of the morning trying to keep my eye open in the school lobby. I learned my lesson. Children-- especially Phoebe-- love routine. Don't rock the boat. I'm not sure how long it will take before I'll be able to drop Phoebe off at school, but certainly not now.

I do, however, pick the girls up from school occasionally. Some day I'll have to get Miranda on video tape. I stand on the sidewalk with the other moms, and when she comes out the door of school in the single file line she calmly scans the crowd. When she spots me (and I hear Sonja gets the same reception), she waves with two arms, smiles, and jumps as high as she can. "You're a rock star!" one of the other parents said to me.

For the first time, my children really seem to have a life of their own beyond me. True, I've been a working mother all along, but I always have had a nanny who gives me the full run-down at the end of the day. When I got stuck on the details of a Miranda story, Keri always filled me. Now, there are many mysteries. Somehow the girls got the idea that "I'll tell you later" is a good way to answer the question of "What did you do in school today?" Sometimes I get a report like "We played the Silence Game" or "I used the Love Light," but Miranda can't quite explain these experiences that are still new to her. Or maybe it's that she wants to guard the information, to keep it as her own, in this new and independent life of hers. And Phoebe-- well, her storytelling skills are still evolving. She always answers our questions, but the answers aren't always so reliable. So, the girls go off to school without us and have become their own people, learning and growing and changing where we can't even see them.

You learn a lot about your children when they go to school. I'm learning that Miranda is a bit shy and self-conscious about making friends. During the first week I asked if there was a playhouse on the playground, and she told me, "Yes, but there were kids inside, and they didn't let me in." Oh, the lessons of the playground. I just wanted to rewind that day and mediate the moment for her, telling her little classmates, "We share, friends"-- but I wasn't there, and it is Miranda's playground to navigate. I can just take a breath as she learns to guard her heart and stand up for herself on her own. Early on, when I asked if she had any new friends in her classroom, she told me she didn't know their names. But on Day #4, she told me "Evie was playing and I walked up to her and she smiled at me!" Now she tells me daily about her which friends she played with, and I know she has settled into comfort. That initial transition, though. . .I could feel her discomfort as she felt the pressure to make friends but wasn't quite sure how to do it without someone walking her through the process.

Phoebe's teacher (Pam, the baby-whisperer, you remember from the previous post) sent us a wonderful e-mail full of Phoebe stories. What a gift for these parents who hardly ever get to see the teacher in person! It is great fun to hear her analyze Phoebe's personality. It seems that Phoebe is very eager to help. When Pam says she's going to turn off the light, Phoebe says "I'll do it," jumps up, fetches the stool, carries it across the room, puts it down, climbs up, turns off the light, brings the stool back to its place, returns to the group, and sits down. When someone is hurt or crying, Phoebe is very concerned, getting the comforting "blue towel" or a favorite toy. Once when Pam mentioned to some children that they might slow down their rushed pace, Phoebe jumped up and said "Like this" and demonstrated an exaggerated slow walk. As Pam said, "Phoebe brings joy to the classroom."

Our challenges right now? Well, it pretty much resolves around two issues-- sleep, and working too much. We had a blissful month or two when we had actually settled into a bedtime routine where we could put both girls down for bed in their shared bedroom, kiss them goodnight, and walk out. So wonderful! But starting a week or two ago, Phoebe has started to cry again, and now she is verbal enough to insist with a sharp finger "I want you to sit right here" while she wails. She is inconsolable if we leave the room, and takes, oh, up to 2 hours to really fall asleep. Maybe worse, she has started waking up in the middle of the night again, too. More often than not one of us ends up in her twin bed with her at some point in the night. Not going in the right direction.

I think much of it has to do with issue #2-- that Phoebe doesn't see me enough. Lately, call seems impossibly frequent. Last weekend I left town for a wonderful reunion with two of my closest friends (my 2/3 of my life friends-- since age 12). While the time of renewing my spirit was fabulous, my Sunday night return meant starting a new crazy week without having replenished the mommy-time-pool over the weekend. Mark is being very kind when he gently says "Phoebe is missing her mom." I think the bedtimes have been dreadful when I'm not there. Phoebe has started to ask with a sad voice, "Do you have to go to work today?" There have been many times when I've thought that my schedule allows enough time for my kids and my work but just nothing else. Lately I don't feel that. It's not enough for my kids. Especially Phoebe. And so, we are working on solutions. I think I am getting close to one, and I am dreaming about balance.

More to say-- ballet class, Phoebe withdrawals, Halloween parades, my attempts at celebrating the Mid-Autumn Moon Festival, ponderings on adoption. . .but I'll stop here for the night. I think I should blog more often (in my spare time).

School Girls

(This posting I started back in early September-- It never got finished, so I'll leave it in it's raw form. )

Back-to-school festivities began last week with a home visit from Phoebe's teacher. People call Pam "The Toddler Whisperer," and there really is some other-wordly manner to how she meets children. She said a brief hello to me, then quickly focused on Phoebe, and big sister Miranda, too. The kids were rapt. They showed her their puzzles, and explored with total engagement the two "works" that she brought from the classroom: a seashell in a basket and a ball-in-a-box. The kids pointed out the three apples sewn on her dress, and Phoebe was particuarly impressed with the braid down her back. After Pam left, there was a little meltdown of "I want to go to school RIGHT NOW."

Right now came on Wednesday morning, with unusual cooperation in the brushing teeth and fixing hair category. The girls were ready 30 minutes early, leading to an agonizing wait and a little photoshoot on the front porch. (See above.)

Phoebe is in the Toddler House with the two-year olds, and there is an elaborate three week "Phase In" process that requires a parent or care provider-- preferable the same one every day-- to be present in the classroom until the teacher decides the child is ready. Now, there's no way I personally could pull that off, so Sonja has taken up the task. On that first day, we drove to school in separate cars so that Phoebe could wave a smiley goodbye to me from the house, so as not to risk a tearful goodbye at the door of the classroom. Phoebe was delighted to meet Pam at the door, and Sonja picked a chair in the middle of the room. Phoebe hung by her side for just two or three minutes, then got busy with her "work". Sonja proudly reported later that Phoebe was the only child in the mini-sized kitchen who was able to pour her own water from the faucet. There were a few check-in moments through the session when Phoebe wandered back to Sonja-- who was busy with her own quiet "work" of reading, or pretending to-- but she was overall happy to explore. There have been three days of this, so far, with Sonja still in the room. Next week, as I understand it, the teacher will tap Sonja quietly on the shoulder when Phoebe is engaged, and Sonja will say a brief goodbye as she slips out to the Lobby. There will likely be some back-and-forth if Phoebe looks concerned, until, a few days later, or maybe two weeks later, depending on the child, the teacher will give the word that Sonja can venture off of school grounds. And then we'll be rolling-- a regular school routine. It's a long process, but I am grateful that Phoebe will have the time to adjust and be comfortable, without tearful goodbye and toddler protests. When those things happen (as it did at the babysitting at the gym this week), I never know if this is just toddler behavior, or adoption issues-- and at least with this school and this long approach, I don't have to wonder. Phoebe can phase-in when she is ready.

Miranda is upstairs in the Children's House with 3-, 4-, and 5- year olds, many who are in their second or third year in the same room with the same teacher. In great contrast to the Toddler House, upstairs we were instructed just to give a cheerful "Goodbye! Have fun! See you in a little bit!" Miranda found her cubby in the hallway, put on her slippers by herself, and walked right up to the room. She was so curious about what was inside that classroom doorway that she didn't say goodbye to me, but just slowly walked in, eyes wide, a little overwhelmed, very excited. Class was only 30 minutes the first day-- just enough to explore the mini-size bathroom and a puzzle of the world. I arrived maybe 2 minutes early to pick her up, and was amazed how how these four children-- only the new children-- were already hard at work. . .

(Thoughts end here. To be continued.)

The Tail End of Summer

There's a lot of catching up to do, if we are going to keep this blog rolling. . .

So, we packed our boxes, loaded the moving van, and moved across the bridge to the next town over. The girls' bedroom was the last thing to be packed up and the first to be unloaded, so that they could get settled in their new shared bedroom. Remember, Phoebe had still been in our bedroom, sleeping in a big girl bed but only falling asleep with a parent sitting in the room. Miranda had been falling asleep on her own. The first few weeks of two-girls-one-room were painful. Mark and I took turns, toughing it out through two hours each night from lights off until sleep. Phoebe screamed if we left the room, and Miranda would get wound up by our presence. Someone inevitably got a second wind, and then there was nothing to do but be consistent and wait it out. Until 10:00 pm. Every night. It worked. With time we started sitting in the hallway instead of the bedroom, then in the office, and finally, recently, we can tiptoe downstairs after kissing them goodnight. Major victory. (Picture is moving day, playing in our new backyard.)

In June we camped in the Berkshires with a great group of families who have a 30 year history together. The girls were quick to pick up the new vocabulary-- salamander, kayak, tent, costumes, marshmallows. A great perk at camp is the babysitting-- 6 hours a day, with fun attentive college kids on kid-duty. They were remarkably clever at drawing out the kids so their parents could slip away to hike the Appalachian trail for a few hours. At night, the four of us slept on an inflatable double mattress in the tent. Mama & Papa were a little sore by the end of the week, but it was so nice to go back to co-sleeping for just a week, with my not-so-little girls wrapped in my arms (and kicking me in the ribs) all night long. We hiked, we canoed, we turned off the cell phones. Miranda learned to sit on a mediation pillow in half-lotus at the pond's edge and breathe, and Phoebe was brave enough to go kayaking on the lake with a babysitter. Miranda even entered the Physical Feats Talent Show with an impressive Tip & Flip maneuver. (That's putting on a zip-up jacket by laying it on the floor in front of you, putting your arms in, and tossing it over your head so it lands in perfect wearable position-- for anyone not familiar with the stunt.) We came home sun-kissed and relaxed.

In July we did another week on a pond in the woods, this time in Maine at my parents' house. All seven of the kids-- my sister's three and my brother's two, plus ours-- were there. It is just delightful that Miranda and Phoebe are old enough to run laps around the porch under the direction of their big cousins while Mark and I sip gin and tonics. A loon visited us one day, right in the little cove of our beach, while were were all playing in the water. It popped right up in the middle of the chaos, stayed for a moment or two, then dove under the water and swam away. Phoebe started requesting "I want more loon!" One night Miranda asked to help cook dinner, and proudly announced as she dried the lettuce, "If I'm helping to cook dinner, then that means I'm part of the Dinner Team!" One day we went hiking in Acadia, and the girls tolerated-- dare I say enjoyed?-- two hours in the backpacks, cheering "Go, Mama, Go!" on the tough inclines. My mom and dad thought of everything, and did a beautiful job of hosting such a loud and rowdy crowd. We ended the week with homemade blueberry ice cream-- for breakfast. "That's pretty silly," Miranda said.

So where are we now? Well, this week makes 15 months since Phoebe arrived in our life. That means that in a few days she will have lived more time with us than without us. She's a master of 5-word sentences --"I want you change clothes"-- and is working on giving us the daily report at dinner (with details filled in my her big sister, who recently used a 17-word sentence that was so impressive I had to count it). I recently bought a few 20-piece cardboard puzzles for Miranda, and it took Phoebe about a week to figure out how to do them herself. She's been going to a class at the Early Intervention school once a week, and last week for the first time she waved at me and said "Bye, Mom" instead of fussing. I always get full-speed running hug that knocks me over when I pick her up. In the moon bounce, she bounces and cackles with laughter. At the last weigh in, Phoebe weighed 29 lbs 2 oz-- and surpassed her big sister by a whopping 2 oz. When our new au pair arrived to the house, Phoebe welcomed her warmly and sat down to play. No trouble, no resistance. We now have a kid who rolls with punches. Well, except when she's in a Phoebe funk. That happens about once every other day. Wow, that kid can scowl. Her eyebrows furrow and she growls "No" to every suggestion you have until she comes out of it. But if that's the biggest issue we have these days, I think we are doing pretty well.

Miranda, who was good as gold until about two years old-- oh! that's when Phoebe came home-- has become the more challenging of the two girls. She's deep into three years old, with resistance to anything that is not her idea. Bedtime is a tremendously long ordeal, with so many requests and rationalizations. She blessed us with her loudest and most extreme EVER temper tantrum the evening of Sonja's first working day. I recently declared a moratorium on brushing her hair, except once a week when it is wet and soaked with condition; that decision has significantly improved the household peace in the morning. At least she's good for other people-- usually the really difficult moments are with her parents, who will love her through it all.

Oh, yes, the au pair! Sonja, from Germany, arrived a week ago to spent a year with us. She's great-- easy to have around, so willing to help, excited to be starting this year of discovery abroad. The kids are so enthralled that they are tracking her every move-- "Where's Sonja? Is Sonja awake? Is Sonja home yet?" There was one beautiful moment on Sonja's second night when she came into the bedroom during post-bath time rituals and gave the kids each a quiet scalp massage. Phoebe hung her head into her chest and let out the most content little sighs of bliss while Sonja worked on her scalp. At that moment I knew that this is going to work out just fine.

I notice a lot of blogs are quiet for the summer-- everyone is busy eating watermelon on the porch and taking their bikes to the beach, I suppose. I also feel like we've become sort of a stabilized family this summer-- with fewer interesting changes and things to say. And I'm pretty happy about. I could do a little commentary on how I work too much and don't have time for anything other than work, kids, and marriage-- and how I long for books, friendship, and exercise-- but this is the life we have right now, and those three things that I do a lot of are good. Very, very good.

One Year

One year ago today, Mark and I walked into a conference room in the Gloria Hotel in Nanchang, China, and found little Phoebe looking very alone in the lap of a nanny who was a stranger to her. I lifted her into my arms, and took her into my life forever.

I think of those early weeks and months, when we thought that Miranda's Laurie Berkner DVD of kids music was just too much stimulation for this overwhelmed child to handle. If we were out of the house for an hour or two, I was eager to get home. We hunkered down. We refused to let anyone hold her but us. I snuggled with Phoebe in the Ergo while Miranda jumped away in the moon bounce on the Common. Phoebe cried herself to sleep, awoke from naps with shrieks, and slept between us at night. Visitors came to us, and all the usual summer trips and travels were off. We were busy doing much of nothing-- just being close, learning to trust each, and becoming family.

Gradually we added more action, and Phoebe now says "no home" when we call an end to hours of outdoor play. Today, she shouted in that very loud Phoebe voice "Hi, Steve!" to the neighbor as we headed for ice cream, and loudly declared, "I LIKE Captain Dusty ice cream." I-- her mother-- still sees hints scars from too many transitions in her early years, but overall she is a healthy, happy kid who trusts her parents and adores her sister. Yesterday we gathered with about ten of the families who shared our trip to China with us. One year is a tremendous time in the life of any small child, but these children demonstrate more than normal development changes. Whereas one year ago they had fear, doubt, and uncertainty, now they have confidence, trust, and love. Not to mention shiny hair, smooth skin, and chubby thighs.

Today we celebrate one year together, and just two days after that we will call an end to our year of laying low. We are moving-- just two miles away, but still, a move it is. We'll pack all that we call ours into boxes and unload it in our new home. We'll find new neighbors, new playgrounds, new story hours at the new library, a new YMCA, and new little friends. I think of how distressed Phoebe was months ago when we disassembled the cribs to make room for big girl beds, and I worry a little bit about how she will take it. But at the same time, I feel like it is time. I hope that through this transition Phoebe will learn that while many things around her change, her family does not. We go with her. Always.

Finally Final

We arrived at the Probate Courthouse this morning dressed up and smiling. At the security gate we passed our camera through the metal detector and the guard said, "Adoption?" On the way through the court house guards everywhere offered congratulations as we passed. Judge Blake invited us into her chambers with great fanfare. She let the kids bang her gavel and sort through her treasure drawer. Then she sat at her desk, did her best to pronounce Phoebe's full name, signed the official document, and declared our adoption final. Final, finally. Yippeeee!!

We started paperwork four and a half years ago now. It was one year ago this week when held Phoebe's photograph in our hands and saw her face for the first time. What a long journey it has been. What a beautifully happy journey!

Making Peace

In the excitement of Phoebe's party, Miranda refused a nap. Her grandparents were visiting and there was just too much going on, so we let us stay up for "Quiet Time" with the adults. She did fine through the party until she had a major meltdown in the bathtub later that evening. After a bath long enough to make prunes of her fingers, Mark insisted that it was time to get out. Some protests later, he resorted to our usual technique of "I'll count to three, and you can either do it yourself, or I'll do it for you on three." Miranda opted to dig in her heels, and what followed was one of the top 5 ever Miranda Meltdowns, with her poor grandparents in the house to witness it.

After about 20 minutes of sobbing and screaming, Mark took Phoebe to bed and I took Miranda. She finally stopped crying and settled into bed for nighttime reading. We snuggled and I wiped her nose. Three books later, when I tucked her in and kissed her on the cheek, she looked up and quietly said, "I want Papa."

I fetched Mark from Phoebe's room and told him Miranda wanted to talk. Sure enough, that's exactly what she wanted to do. In quiet clear words, she recounted the events. "I wanted to stay in the tub. . . I cried and cried." Mark explained why he did what he did and told her he loved her. He kissed her goodnight, and that was the end of that. He came downstairs looking a little perplexed and very touched.

If the rest of us would insist on making peace and talking it out before we turn out the lights, I think the world would be a different place. Two years old. Quite amazing.