Tuesday, April 8, 2008
The first year
The first week home: Sarah is scared. She stands at the door with her green shoes. The shoes her nanny gave to her. There is no room in her heart for me. She hates me. I took her from the only home she ever knew. I took her from the one woman she had grown to love. Yes, Papa could love her, grandma too. But not me. Anyone, even the dog, the lady next door, anyone but me.
The first month home: Sarah is sad. She cries at nap time, and bed time. Her life is gripped with fear. Papa has gone back to work. She stands at the door and cries for hours. I cry too. This girl I fought to adopt, and prayed for and dreamed of is here in my sight, but I can not hold her. I can not comfort her. I can not wipe away those tears. I’ve never felt so powerless.
The third month home: Sarah is relaxing. She still will not let me hold her. I still can not put her to bed at night. I am allowed to feed her. She accepts her precious Papa going to work everyday. I’m really just a care taker. She really only loves him. I’m nothing special, but I’m OK with this. At least she loves Papa.
The sixth month home: Sarah is strong. She was willing to step on an airplane with me. She said goodbye to her Papa. She traveled to America (12 hours). She came to visit her Grandma and Grandpa. She let go of her Papa. He was her lifeline, her security. She is beginning to grab hold of me. She let’s me put her to bed at night. She begins to let me in.
The eighth month home: Sarah is so happy. She celebrates her first Christmas. She is so excited to get what she wanted. It was a beautiful new bike with training wheels. You can not imagine how strong she has grown. She could not walk without tripping. Now she can run, and ride her own bike.
One year home: Sarah is silly. Perhaps I should write that Silly with a capital S. She giggles and laughs all the time. She loves me almost as much as her Papa, maybe more. I’ve waited a year for this love. I’ve worked and prayed harder then you could imagine. Some things do not come easy. My mom always told me, “Anything worth having was worth working for”. I would do it again. Her smile was worth all the work. I am so in love with my silly sweet girl!