If you want a good cry, read today's addition to Sylvi's blog. Her new family is in Russia going through the process of adopting her. My prayers go with them all.
Sylvi was great today, warming up a bit more to both of us. Still not as she was before, she has clearly lost the innocent happiness she had before as a baby. Now, as a young toddler, she is very aware of new things. Kaia, me as a man, the quiet of our room we go to be alone with her in. All of it scares her. And that is ok, we know this. We again snuck in to catch her playing with her group, and while she is quiet, at least she is comfortable and playing with them. Turns so serious when she sees us, a bit of recognition, but no romance or love at all, more concern and solemn looks. We go over-board to get a smile; sing, dance, laugh, act goofy, the whole bit. But not much reward, maybe a slight smile now and then. I saw her new teeth once in 3 visits, when she let a big smile slip out while throwing her up in the air. That is fine-we saw today some more advances. She loved my Iphone, the pictures and music. I showed her the boys and family, our dog. She liked to slide her fingers on the screen and flip pages, and did that for an hour, not letting it go. She is slight and small, but she has an 'Orphanage Grip' and hands like a Halibut Rail Man. She could break fingers with you any day, Alf. I think the group learns this early to keep a toy they like.
So, it is a hard feeling to describe. I got sad when I saw a picture of her, on my Iphone, laughing so hard back in December. I feel that so much has passed by, making it all the harder on her, and us, now that she is older. It makes you angry-the system that you cannot get around. But this wasn't meant to be easy, and we kept telling ourselves that we had to be prepared for the tough parts.
I'm finding it eery, and un-nerving to look into the eyes of the others when we go to the room she is in. They stare, wave, cry and hold there hands out to me, for a touch or to be swept-up. It is a strange feeling, like they are betrayed by me, for not picking them. I must not be the only one-the orphanage director does not allow parents into the general living area usually, for reasons like these. There is nothing criminal going on, no law being broken or human rights being violated. Just toddlers that are unwanted; and they don't know it. But they can't understand why She get's the toy, why She goes with us each day. And that is spooky for me.
Today at the end, before I set her down, back with the group; I whispered in her ear, that we are taking her home-and that I love her. She doesn't know this-or what it means. She looks at me and furrows her brow, so serious. She is home. Sylvi can't foresee the sadness that her group faces. They are on this path; too old for much chance of getting adopted, and yet growing more comfortable with the institution life every night. One day, they will wish to be adopted like Sylvi, but I don't know what age that is. I don't care to. Right now, this is what they know. The rows of beds, the playpen, the food, drink, naps, potties, smells; and the sound of continual crying. At least this is the constant to them. Not the people, or the adults. They come and go.
In December, it would have been a bit easier to change Sylvi's pattern, a bit more naivete and trust. But, it is May when we take her away. And May might be a tough month for all of us. I cringe to think of her sadness leaving the "Baby Home". How strange to go away with us: outside, a car, airport, plane, food, bath, the world. But, I guess, the great news is, we don't have to wait for her to want to be taken. This would take too long, so we go the hard way, and better off in the end.
