Five-Week Mark

It has been a long time since I blogged, partly because I'm back at work and can't seem to find the time, partly because I have such mixed, confused feelings that I'm not sure what to blog about, and partly because my computer is a piece of junk and I can't download pictures right now. So I guess I will forget the pictures for now and just write.

Today is Sunday, January 31, and it's been about five weeks since we brought Alex home from Ukraine. I'm so glad the Save a Child moms are getting together in two days to eat lunch. I am way overdue for a big, long therapy session with other people feeling what I am. There are days when I feel encouraged and think, "Wow, we are really making progress," and there are other days when I feel very discouraged and think, "We are not making any progress at all." On those days, I try very hard to step back and put myself in Alex's place and try to envision what things must be like for him, and I know I can't even begin to imagine it.

Today we had another small melt-down. "Melt-down" means he quits talking, puts his head down, and covers his face with his hands. It can go on for hours or only a few minutes, but we have found it best to leave him alone when it happens. Today I told him it was time to read, and he said, "Oh, Mom," went downstairs, locked the door, and stayed. We later heard him go out the back door, and when we looked outside, he was laying on the tramp, curled up in a ball, with his hands over his face.

Here is another instance. Two Saturdays ago, it was time to go to dinner. We have been going out as a family every Saturday for dinner for the last 15 years. This night, Alex was in the middle of a melt-down. We went downstairs and told him to get in the car. He said, "Me no hungry. Me home." After ten minutes of coaxing, we simply turned off the bedroom light, and Michael physically moved him from the bed to the car. When we got to the restaurant, Alex wouldn't get out of the car and said, "Me car." Ten more minutes of coaxing, and Michael physically removed Alex from the car and took him into the restaurant. We spent the next hour eating, talking, and having fun with our whole family (except Eric), all the while Alex turned to the wall giving us the silent treatment and pouting like crazy. Usually after something like this happens, he is exceptionally good for a few days. It's like he realizes how babyish he was and wants to make amends, at least until the next time he has a melt-down.

But I have to admit, I think these episodes are getting less and less frequent, and when I look back over the last five weeks, I'm pretty sure we have made some progress. Here are a few things I feel encouraged about.
1. I no longer have to go downstairs several times a morning to get Alex out of bed to get ready for school.
2. Alex voluntarily showers every morning.
3. Sometimes Alex doesn't fight me when it's time to read.
4. Alex has made progress on his times tables, albeit slow progress.
5. Alex has never complained about going to church and stays the whole three hours.
6. Alex is quick to say, "I love you my family."
7. Alex now says family prayer and sometimes even asks to say it.
8. Alex reads the Book of Mormon with us. We take turns each reading one verse, and he reads from his Russian Book of Mormon when it's his turn.
9. Alex likes to hug (too much), but he's not needing it as much as he used to.
10. Alex is participating in soccer and likes it.

I know there are a lot more things I could write about, but ten will have to do for now.

I know I have a lot to learn, like more patience. I am trying to learn that every day. I want Alex to speak English right now, and sometimes I think to myself, "I can't believe you still don't know this word. We must have read this word a thousand times." I don't actually say it, but boy do I think it.

Anyway, I wanted to record my thoughts today so that in a month from now, I can look back and say, "We really are making progress."

Six days and counting until Eric is deployed to Iraq. It's not a good countdown like waiting for Christmas or the last day of school. No indeed. Quite the opposite from a mother's perspective.

Eric was back in the States (Wisconsin) for thirty days for training in November and December. Quite the change from Guam to Wisconsin, but he liked being back in the States.

I'd recognize those eyes anywhere!

Our tax dollars!

Eric's buddies.

This is back in Guam I'm sure. Way cool picture. Needs to be in a photo competition.

Attacking the jungle!

Lawrence Family Get-Together

Tani and Don had everyone over to their house for an end-of-the-holidays get-together. By the time I remembered to pull my camera out, a lot of people had already gone. Oh, well. Here are a few pictures.

Visit to the Doctor (Or Two Hours from Hell)

Well, school starts up for Quinn and Alex next Monday, and knowing Alex couldn't register without up-to-date immunizations, we headed for the doctor's office Thursday morning. Prior to leaving, I told Alex via the computer what was going to happen. He voiced some resistance, so we called Marissa's friend who speaks Ukrainian to speak to Alex a little further. Then we were on the computer again, with Gage, Marissa, Quinn, and I attempting to calm his fears.

"It will hurt just a tiny bit, like a pinch. The doctors are nice. The shots will help you not become sick. You have to have the shots to go to school. Everyone gets these shots. If you don't have them, you can't go to school, " on and on and on.

He wrote back to us through the computer, "I'm scared."

We hugged him and said, "It's okay. It will be okay." We told him he needed three shots.

So he got showered and dressed, and away we went. Fortunately Marissa agreed to come with us for moral support for Alex. (Alex LOVES Marissa.)

We arrived, and the doctor's office rounded up an employee from downstairs that speaks Polish. Surprisingly, they could communicate quite well. Alex's vision was great in both eyes. He weighed in at a whopping 67 pounds (below the percentile chart for a 12-year-old) and measured 56 inches tall (eleventh percentile).

Then Alex donned a gown. I had to coax him to take off his pants. Alex always wears two layers of pants, something they did at the orphanage to keep warm. He took the first layer off, and we had to coax to get the second pair off. (He still looks skinny even with all those clothes on.)

The woman doctor looked in his eyes, ears, listened to his heart and so on, all the usual stuff, then told me she wanted to check for hernias and needed to check his privates. (By this time, the Polish-speaking woman had left.) I told Alex "touch" (he knows that word) and I pointed. This is where things started to get interesting. He absolutely refused and started to panic. We tried calming him down, and after about ten minutes, I said, "Okay. We're going to skip this part of the examination. We'll have to worry about it later."

The doctor said she wanted a blood draw at the lab, a stool sample, etc. to check for TB and anything else that Alex might have picked up in Ukraine. I agreed to take care of that later.

Then Alex got dressed, and the nurse came in to administer SEVEN immunizations, and all hell broke loose. We cajoled, coaxed, bribed, everything we could think of. For 67 pounds, Alex is strong and wiry. He had the look of terror in his eyes.

Let me digress. When Alex was in our home in August, he took a spill while learning to ride a bike and got a NASTY gouge in his knee. It was deep and big, and the little kid never shed a tear, just sort of whimpered, but something about those needles sent him over the top, and I mean OVER THE TOP.

To make a long story short, it took three big, strong nurses to get those shots in Alex. Marissa and I tried to participate, but when he looked at me with terror and pleading, I was afraid of what it might do to our relationship, and Marissa and I ended up backing off. It was an absolute wrestling match, one big nurse holding his upper body, one holding his lower body, and one jabbing the needles in as quickly as possible. After the 45-minute ordeal was over, Alex was really mad and looked at me with pure hatred. He refused to get his shoes and coat on and sat in the corner of the examination room and pretty much communicated that he would live there the rest of his life. Marissa and I went to the waiting room. Eventually he came to the waiting room, sat down, and refused to move. I ended up dragging him to the car, and by this time, I had had it. He refused to put on his seat belt, and I yelled, "Put on your seat belt." Marissa ended up putting it on for him. He cried all the way home, and I wondered what we had gotten ourselves into.

Then I began to wonder what was in this little boy's past that made him so afraid of needles. I wondered if he would ever talk to me again or if he would hate me the rest of his life. He went straight to his room when we got home. I let him cool for about 30 minutes. By this time Michael had come home early (New Year's Eve), and we both went down to check on him. He was nailing the wheels to a Pine Wood Derby car!! Within five minutes, he returned to his normal affectionate self, and all was forgiven! I think he was a little embarrassed. I talked to him on the computer again and told him he needed to take some pain killer and to use his arms a lot. He was totally compliant.

Then he hugged me and said this. "Ukraine mom," and made the motions of slapping my face over and over and over again, and then said, "Go to sleep," and acted out going to sleep. I said, "What?" He repeated the whole thing. I'm not sure what it all meant, but I'm sure I will find out in the future.

We ended up having a wonderful New Year's Eve with our family. Michael cooked us a gourmet dinner, steak, shrimp, mushrooms, potatoes, fruit salad, etc. (We missed you, Eric. We sure wished you could have been there.) Then we played around-the world ping pong for hours. Alex was darling, on his best behavior. I think he was asking us for our forgiveness.

Christmas

Quinn and Alex awakened early Christmas morning and tried to arouse everyone else, but 5:30 a.m. was pretty ridiculous considering we had only arrived from Ukraine at 8:30 p.m. Christmas Eve! (I was actually already up doing dishes.) We made them eat breakfast first, and then everyone else got up. Let the fevered frenzy begin.

Alex unwrapped this soccer ball and immediately started begging to send it to his friends at the orphanage.

Later in the day we went to Logan to my parents' home for Christmas dinner. It was a really enjoyable afternoon seeing everyone. We decided a few years ago not to exchange gifts with our siblings, and my parents also asked that we not give gifts to them. There's only so much "stuff" we need, right? Instead we pool our money together, and one sibling gets to decide where we will donate the money that year. This year it went to Shriner's Hospital to buy durable goods for children. So for entertainment, we play the "White Elephant" game and bring "junk" from our homes. It's highly entertaining and good for a few gut-splitting laughs.

Awaiting the game to begin. What highly valuable gift should I choose?

I'm sure the day was a little overwhelming for Alex, but he seemed to handle it well. It's crazy that his first day as an American was Christmas. Next Christmas, we hope we can look back on the year and see all the progress he has made.