Today was the Best Day yet. She was so happy, and comfortable with us. It felt great, both Kaia and I left there with these stupid grins on our faces. She acted much more energetic and animated than she has been. It is clear to us, that her passive actions are truly her way of dealing with stress and being scared. Before, she could have fallen asleep so easily, and was so serious and concerned. Today, she was rolling balls, climbing on us, holding her doll and looking through Kaia's bag. Everyone can tell how she is opening up, slowly, to us.She must have such a story to tell us. I wonder if that is why God made our memories start later? She is so helpless, and trying to figure us out. Why do we keep coming back? Why are there so many meetings with doctors, social workers, and nurses. Why do we stare at her, and keep talking to her, hug and kiss her?Today, Sylvi wasn't wearing tights with feet for the first time. Kaia lifted her pant leg and stroked her bare leg while she was playing with the Iphone-her favorite thing so far. Music plays on it, and she is so CLOSE to dancing, but too shy for that. So she sat on this big bear foot, when Kaia stroked her leg, this happy look on her face, and stared at Kaia. Sylvi lifted her own pant higher, and just sat there in bliss, kind of smiling with this far-away look.Touch is something she seems to like. It can be a real bonding element for us 3, and this picture-even though you can't see her face, really tells it all. It was a powerful little moment, and watching it got to me.
Little toddlers, babies, children at any age; they don't belong in an orphanage. Anywhere in the world. No matter how they got there, they each have a secret story of circumstance that they know nothing of. There is a massive baby stampede, walking, crawling, toddling; over to the edge of the playpen to reach out for us whenever we come in to the room. I tussle the kids' hair, shake their outstretched hands, some of them giggle when I whistle to them, or poke their tummys. They are desperate for their turn, for attention, for us just to watch them. But we take Sylvi, and head out to another room. As you leave, you can turn around suddenly, and catch 12 pairs of eyes watching your exit. Some rocking, some sucking their thumbs, playing, or some sitting-but all watching.
Sylvi likes Kaia and I, and she is thinking of us tonight. A worker told us that the kids lay in bed and stare at each other's faces through the bars in the cribs as they fall asleep. Every night, quietly. No crying. No use for that, they learn. For the first time, it seems as though Sylvi is pondering our love for her. I see her face light up when we come to see her. Today, Kaia put her down at the end of our visit, said goodbye, kissed her-she reached up with both hands and threw her little head back to be picked back up. She likes us, to be touched, to feel special for 2 hours. She get's that now.
I'm sure no one has sat and stroked her leg, sat with her, and made her feel like that. It's pretty amazing to witness, to be in that room and see her eyes, her cheeks flush, the tiny smile. All from just a special touch.
Little toddlers, babies, children at any age; they don't belong in an orphanage. Anywhere in the world. No matter how they got there, they each have a secret story of circumstance that they know nothing of. There is a massive baby stampede, walking, crawling, toddling; over to the edge of the playpen to reach out for us whenever we come in to the room. I tussle the kids' hair, shake their outstretched hands, some of them giggle when I whistle to them, or poke their tummys. They are desperate for their turn, for attention, for us just to watch them. But we take Sylvi, and head out to another room. As you leave, you can turn around suddenly, and catch 12 pairs of eyes watching your exit. Some rocking, some sucking their thumbs, playing, or some sitting-but all watching.
Sylvi likes Kaia and I, and she is thinking of us tonight. A worker told us that the kids lay in bed and stare at each other's faces through the bars in the cribs as they fall asleep. Every night, quietly. No crying. No use for that, they learn. For the first time, it seems as though Sylvi is pondering our love for her. I see her face light up when we come to see her. Today, Kaia put her down at the end of our visit, said goodbye, kissed her-she reached up with both hands and threw her little head back to be picked back up. She likes us, to be touched, to feel special for 2 hours. She get's that now.
I'm sure no one has sat and stroked her leg, sat with her, and made her feel like that. It's pretty amazing to witness, to be in that room and see her eyes, her cheeks flush, the tiny smile. All from just a special touch.
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