When I adopted Marat, I hoped it would work out. I had heard horror stories of kids with Failure to Thrive, Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD) and I hoped I would not have to live through that. Medically, he was diagnosed with Failure to Thrive, though within a few years, he actually made it onto the growth charts, a reason to celebrate! He started growing, learning English, making friends, charming the daylights off of every one he met, and blessing my life from the moment I first laid eyes on his picture, 10 months before I met him.
We went out to dinner tonight to Marat's favorite Thai restaurant and ate more than we should, but then there is that promise of lower grocery bills in just a couple of weeks so I am okay with it. I should have used that time to talk to him, to ask him what he was looking forward to, what he hoped to accomplish in the next year or two, but mostly I just sat quietly thinking about the first time he had Thai food and how I recognized at that time that my food bill was about to explode.
Once we got home, I followed him down to his basement bedroom and helped him pack for what would be his last night as a full time resident of the basement (God willing) and I looked around the room at his photos of childhood friends, trophies earned and not so earned (gotta love the entitlement generation--trophies for everybody!) and then I saw it. His first American toy. A battery operated Spiderman on a quad. He would play with that thing for hours and drive me nuts! When we first arrived home in America after the adoption, we stayed at my Mom's house for the night before our drive back to Coos Bay the next afternoon. She was so excited about being a new grandma, that she said that she would be right back and that she had to go to the store. This meant that she would be gone at least 2-3 hours. When she returned (2 hours later), her arms were full with toys and gifts--something I honestly did not expect given her lukewarm reception to the news that I intended to adopt a child. She was somewhat skeptical of the whole situation, not in a bad way, but she simply voiced all the fears that I held deep inside and never acknowledged out loud. But here she was welcoming her new grandson into the family the best possible way she knew how. By buying the loudest, most obnoxious toy that could only be interpreted as Karma making its first visit upon my sleep-deprived self! She also bought him new pajamas (which he wore until he was 12 years old and the pajama pants had no choice but to be called shorts because he had grown so much) and a pup tent and sleeping bag. I set up his tent in the doorway of the bedroom so he could see me just a few feet away. He laid down on top of his sleeping bag and looked paralyzed, like he seriously did not know how to act or feel or know what to do. He clearly had never experienced anything like this in the orphanage and I am sure he had no idea of what was going on.
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| First night in America, Marat wasn't sure what to do in the tent. |
The roles have certainly reversed. That first night, there were lots of tears for Marat, fear of living in a new country, with a new mom, and the unknown. I stayed up all night consoling him and trying to put him at ease. This last night, 11 years later, there are tears again,but this time it is me shedding those tears. And I am expressing the fears for him, of him living in a new city, new friends, and venturing out in the unknown. As much as I am making this about me, I am heartend by the picture we took tonight. I received it in a text message as I was writing this blog post. He sees that I am sad and unsure and now he is the one doing the consoling.\ It said, "Here you go guys if u guys miss me u can look at this pic. Love you" Gone is the uncertanty of the boy in that first picture, how to act, how to behave in a strange new land. Instead, it is clear that he is excited but most importantly confident and ready to take that next step!
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| "If you miss me, look at this pic." |
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