memory

Memory is often insidious in nature, crafty and mysterious, buried so deeply inside us that even what triggers one or another to surface cannot be identified.

Today by no means was ordinary, but neither was it extraordinary. It was a long anticipated day, the "meet and greet" at school. Last night before bed, E's excitement was palpable and this morning's breakfast was punctuated with "Mama I can't wait!". This year begins first grade and in her multi-age classroom (K,1, and 2), it means she is one of the "bigger" kids, and has the privilege of welcoming six new kindergarteners. There were lots of welcome back hugs and the exchange of summer fun. We bought some school t-shirts, met with the nurse, dropped off school supplies. And this weekend promises a visit from family, always a treat.

Just after arriving home I walked Hiro and as I came back inside, as is E's way, she was hiding. We only need leave a room for a matter of minutes and this child will find a place to hide. This time she was behind the coffee table. The dog found her first and sort of jumped over her, but she wasn't trampled, and I asked her to come on over to the table to get ready for lunch. She puffed out her cheeks (classic gesture) holding back an oncoming flood of tears.

?

Being the hard-ass that I am apt to be in these situations (as in, the ones in which mountains are constructed out of molehills), I asked her to pull herself together and talk to me. I told her certainly having the dog jump over her was not so traumatic that it warranted such tears. This led to sobs, her own version of them, which are painfully quiet. For years we have been working on talking through our hurt. Since I "knew" this was not a catastrophe, I thought it was a good opportunity to encourage it. I had her take deep breaths and I decided to act as though her crying this hard was in no way alarming... after a glass of water, lunch served, I sat next to her and took her hand and asked if she could tell me what had made her this upset. A few bites into her sandwich she was able to open up...

E: (choking through these words): "Well I was thinking something... (long pause)... before, from before you came... before you met me"

Mom: (goosebumps all down my spine, feeling completely horrible for assuming she was crying over the dog): "You were? Do you want to tell me what you were thinking about?"

E: (again, crying through this): "Well it was a big building. Someone took me to a big building. They took me in the morning. And it was dark because the windows was closed and I was scared because when I woke up in the big building no one was there and I was scared".

Immediately I gather her into my lap, hold her to me, and we are silent for a long time while she cries. I fight my own tears.

Mom: "E I am so sorry you were scared and that you felt alone, that is a very hard thing to go through. I wish this had never happened to you, and I think you are so brave. Was this just before we met you? When you said good-bye to your jie jie?" (this was her favorite nanny at New Hope Foster Home in Beijing, she was transferred back to Jiazuo SWI in Henan about a month before we came to China, leaving the place where she had lived for 3+ years).

E: "Yeah it was in the morning but jie jie didn't take me Mama, someone else took me and I never saw jie jie again. And the building was big and the window was closed and it was dark". (By window, I believe she means shades, as later she says they were opened. Also interesting to note that Jiazuo is considerably larger than New Hope- several stories high).

I am astounded by her ability to recall such detail, though I am not certain what sparked this particular memory. It's strange how you might be going about your day when suddenly you are engulfed by the power of what is retained within us, buried in our hearts and our minds. How fragile we are, how fragile she was and is, still. And how incredibly courageous and resilient. I wish she'd never had to be...

These memories are an inestimable gift. How grateful I am that she has some way to put words to what are no doubt mere flash images in her mind, and that she finds a way, despite the flaws of her mother, to share them with me.

I am daily humbled by her strength and grace.

conversations with E

 

Mom: I love this picture of you from China in your wheelchair. Look how little you were (pause). I wish I could have known you when you were a baby, I would have liked to have held you then (smiling).

E: Yeah, I was almost 4 when you met me

Mom: Yeah and you were so cute

E: Yeah and I was afraid

Mom: Me too. But we're not afraid anymore

E: Yeah, we love each other

Mom: Yes, we love each other a lot 

(hugs, kisses, silence).

 

 "We are part of this universe, we are in this universe, the universe is in us"- Neil deGrasse Tyson

Boober-Do

 One year ago, July 1st, he took his final breaths in my arms. Until we meet again, Mr. Man, there won't be a day that passes that I don't miss you or wish I could snuggle up next to you and kiss your face. To where you are, my love goes. xoxo.

(sketch by Garth, in Ransom's favorite sleeping spot).

summer has arrived for us, how about you? the days are warm, sunny and long! ellis is recovered from her surgery and pain free, and her mom is back on her feet as well! we are busy and i can never find the time to come to this site it seems, i miss it and visiting all of you...

 i am certain a braver soul does not exist in this world than that of my daughter. i am deeply humbled by her incredible ability to face challenges that most of us will never even come close to encountering even once in our lives. she astounds me, i sit in awe of her strength, her grace, and i will never forget this week as she taught me how to endure hardship with dignity. such a privilege and an honor to call her my daughter. will be back here soon. rest assured, now that we are home from the hospital after 5 tough days, she is doing absolutely beautifully! i am not sure i could say the same with a 7 inch incision trailing down the center of my back :) but as you all have come to know, there is little if anything that keeps my girl down for long.

The strength & patience of her six year old soul staggers my mind. Tuesday, May 1st, after a two hour drive to the hospital, we spent the afternoon on a tour of the facility with a nurse who educated our little one about her surgery that was scheduled for the following morning. There were dolls, drawings, pictures, and interactive tools. E opened up eventually, engaged in the process. Then came the blood draws (she held her arm out and cried into my shoulder), the paperwork, getting settled in at a local Ronald M*Donald House (incredible accommodations!). Later, a relaxing dinner out with family, the best part of a long day.

Wednesday came to us early, the alarm ringing at 4:30AM and we arrived at the hospital by 5:45. Soon after, we were in pre-op holding and E was gowned and "wired", blood pressure taken, oxygen monitor placed. Consents were signed. "De-tether of spinal cord". The words that were the solution to her pain. The anesthesiologist met us next, detailing the plans for her induction and her possible need for a blood transfusion during surgery. We nodded in understanding. We were all tired, and ready. Her surgery was scheduled for 7:30. But not once did E melt down, or lose her wits. She wasn't the picture of calm, but she held her own- that is her way.

E has the most rare form of spina bifida (myelocystocele), something I don't normally talk about here, but perhaps that isn't wise. For her privacy, I made the decision not to speak much about the particulars of her medical condition thinking that it wasn't for me to talk about. Maybe that is true, maybe it's not. Either way, questions are asked, for her to answer of course, should she feel ready. But I don't want her to ever feel that spina bifida, or having been born with it, is anything meant for keeping behind closed doors. In this way, perhaps I've done her a disservice.

By 7:15, the nurse arrives with medication that will cause amnesia. This will make it possible for her to be wheeled away from us and not mind that she is leaving her parents... it also made her loopy and say things that had us laughing so hard the nurse thought we were crying :) By 8:30 we were concerned and learned that one of the scopes was not functioning and that there was a 2 hour delay.

By 10:45, surgery was canceled. The hard drive on the main microscope used to differentiate nerve tissue from scar tissue (she has so much scar tissue) was gone, completely frozen, and the rep was unable to get it re-booted. Dr. G was extremely apologetic and we are on the schedule to return Tuesday to finally get the surgery completed- and a good thing at that since she is in a lot of pain (pain meds are helping).

I learned that her cystocele was not really repaired in China. That her nerves are still fanned out where her spine splits ("spina bifida"), and that she has a tremendous amount of scar tissue that is causing her cord to be tethered, which of course is leading to all of this back and leg pain. But I also know that China saved her life. Literally. I know nothing about the surgeon that attempted to repair her myelocystocele, 8 months after it should have been closed (these surgeries are normally performed within 24 hours after birth), but I do know that this person is responsible for her life. I wish I could meet him or her and thank them. And though I will never know the circumstances of her relinquishment, I know these facts: her parents or someone who loved her after her birth kept her for 3 months. And by letting her go, they also saved her. Leaving her at the gate of that orphanage was her lifeline.

E is the strongest and bravest soul I know. She is a light in this world. She is the perfect of example of what it means to reflect God in this world. I see that when I look at her. No, my child is not perfect. She is flawed, like every one of us. She can be bossy and sassy and whine and she's a pretty damn good manipulator.

But there is no other child like her. If I am half the person I see in her, I am so very, very good. She calls me to be more than I am, to be a better version of myself.

Such a blessing, this little one.

I remember once a friend told me they loved their child from day one in China, but they FELL in love when their child was very sick in the hospital, much later. That sort of head over heels, all consuming love. I think I understand that now. Love, as I have always said, is organic, it changes and grows with time and is rooted in action and not in feeling. So I didn't expect to feel any differently for E today than I did for her yesterday. But something about watching my girl so bravely handle her pain, and all that she has over these last several weeks- (well, be still my beating heart)- I think there is no love like this on earth. And not anything quite as hard as seeing your child suffer.