My Sarah

Sarah bloomed like we knew she would in her new place, but melted down when she wasn't able to get on the bus with her friends.  Next week, sweetie!

An AHA moment came this afternoon when I picked her up.  Another couple was touring her daycare, as I was leaving.  I had only strapped her in her carseat, when they came over to my car.

"I know this is awkward, but we're interviewing daycares and we have a little girl with Down syndrome.  What do you think about this one?"

And so Sarah's story was shared and I could only shout praises for the accommodations, the flexibility, and their love for Sarah.

I said, "She is loved and that is all a Mama wants for her child."

We talked about IEP's, and the school district preschool.  They are one year behind us, and were surprised to learn Sarah had only been in the country since Memorial Day.  I'm learning quickly, they said.  One day at a time, that's all.  

Paving the way for another child with something extra, my Sarah.  Oh, she is changing lives, making her way in this wonderful world.

Oh, the blessings she is sharing.  Her daycare teachers told me one of her friends was playing by himself when she went over, took his hand, and they played together.  Another time, she led another friend to the group area.  The adults' hearts melted and the kids are seeing her as one of their own.

My Sarah, making her mark in this world.
What a wonderful front-row seat in this wild, precious life I've been given.

This I See

When I was four, my mother took me to the doctor for an eye exam.  Afterwards, the doctor informed her that I was severely near-sighted and would need glasses.  My mother cried the entire ride home.  She had worn glasses most of her life and didn't want that stigma on her four year old child.
 In her words, "Devastated."

This was circa 1975 and the technology was not as advanced, so my lenses looked like coke bottles, and continued until high school when I was given contacts.  I don't remember that early glasses time, but the way I looked at the world changed.  I could see.  The colors, details, and shapes. 

 My father's time to choke up came later when I said, "Dad, did you know the grass is green and so are trees?"  It gripped him because he didn't know I couldn't see.
************

Fast forward many years.  A few weeks ago, I took Sarah for her eye exam.  My utopia was in full bloom with my rose-colored spectacles because she had sailed through her other medical workups with only some ear issues.  Another appointment and then we'll be finished with her post-adoption workup. 

 So when the doctor informed me that Sarah was very far-sighted and her eyes were working very hard to focus, my heart plummeted.  I was thrown for a loop, socked in the stomach.  Similar to my mother's reaction.   I didn't cry, but was silent the entire way home.  It's not the wearing of glasses, but the fact that I didn't know she was having trouble seeing.  I didn't know she was struggling.  I didn't know, and feel I've failed her.  (Irrational, I know.  But, I'm a mom.)

Andy wasn't at all surprised.  "Shelly, I see glasses on kids with Ds all the time.  I was expecting a prescription for glasses for her and our other kids soon enough."  Again, I live in my "glass is half-full, utopia."

But, now she can see and they add to her spunky personality.  And her lenses are thinner than mine ever were.  The miracles of new technology.  Her flat, button-shaped nose isn't enough to hold them up, so it'll be a challenge to keep them on.  Any suggestions?

We're working a few hours at a time, and soon she'll be wearing the finger-smudged specs full-time.
 I wonder what she would have said (if she had her words) the first time she put them on.  What does she see differently?

**************
Andy went to her IEP meeting yesterday, and there was one transportation issue that was our only concern.  Before the meeting, we were notified that Sarah could attend the school Addy and Austin attend or another school in the same district.  Our hearts and prayers were praying for the first option all week long.

When I walked into the door after school, Andy said, "You are not going to like what I'm going to tell you."  Then, I knew.  She would be attending the other school.  He shared with me the entire process, how everyone at the table wanted her to attend her home school, but the transportation routes are complicated and we need her to be picked up at her daycare.  So, the other option it is. 

I wallowed for an evening.  Wondering, why?  This school is our family.  We skyped into classrooms while in Ukraine.  They followed our process.  Staff and teachers alike knew of our Sarah.  When she walked through their doors after she was home, there were tears.  Tears to see the miracle she is.  She was home.  Even the kids' classmates know of Sarah, and give her shout-outs in the hallways.  Our home and family, and we wanted Sarah to be a part of that preschool.

 But, today I know she is to shine her light in a new place.  Her daycare has seen what a miracle she is and what she can do.  Every day, she receives shout-outs as she walks the halls to her room.  She is loved.

And she will be loved in her new school.  Tomorrow, she begins the next chapter in her story.

Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God's handwriting.
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Remembering the Good

 Sometimes, I need only to stand wherever I am, to be blessed.  mary oliver

This morning, I began my first official day of school.  It's convocation, where the entire district meets for one giant pep rally, and to see friends from other school buildings.  My friends wanted to hear about Sarah and her celebrations, when someone said,"Your blog is always so happy. You're going to the park, playing with kids, having a good time.  Whenever I need a pick-me-up, I read your blog."  Yes, I do celebrate the good things.  I focus on the positive and write about what I want to remember.  Our family has its moments.  The house can be trashed, appointments and errands run here and there, Sarah throws tantrums, and the kids are fighting.
  But when I think about the day, I remember the good.  I am blessed.

******
Sarah's new friends rallied around her the next day we arrived at school.  As she was searching for her first activity of choice, one spunky blondie said, "She doesn't have her words yet," and without a moment's hesitation Miss Emily said, "Her words aren't here yet, but they're on their way soon." 

Think about that.  It's a way for 3 or 4 year olds to understand individual differences.  
"They're not here yet, but they're on their way soon."

Then, that afternoon, Sarah walked into her home, waving her arms and said, "Hi." Unscripted, unprompted, spontaneous because those are the words one says when you greet someone.  She's learning.  Everyday, she's learning something new.  Her words are on their way soon.

We had her home visit from the school psychologist and the play-based assessment, but our IEP meeting won't be until the end of the month.  All the therapists, intervention specialists, and supervisors were amazed at what Sarah can do in the 2 1/2 months she's been in the U.S.  When I shared she was the only child with Down syndrome in her groupa, one therapist said,"You make a good argument for full inclusion."  My Sarah, already changing perceptions.

 As a mama, I'm on my own learning curve about her needs, instruction, and IEP's.  A different viewpoint, for sure.
***********
The early awakening is making for an easy bedtime transition.  At the beginning of her new life in our home, Sarah needed us to lay down beside her bed until she fell asleep, otherwise she would not stay in her bed. (We tried everything!)  Soon, it was only 10-15 minutes, and now she's asleep within 5 minutes of us standing outside her door.  My little girl has found her home, her place to feel safe, her family.

 Austin chooses to sleep in a sleeping bag so that he doesn't need to make his bed in the morning.  He is the first one to fall asleep.

Addy, my tween, will fight sleep to the bitter end.  After an hour of laying in bed, she was still awake, although not fond of the flash.

We're adjusting to the new schedule, and next week, the big kids will begin.  And so the cycle continues.  Have a wonderful weekend, and remember to celebrate the many blessings you've been given.  Celebrate the moments with your family, and live life to the fullest.

  Sometimes, I need only to stand wherever I am, to be blessed.  mary oliver

Let the Summer Games Begin

Today was the last day of school.

 

It's an Amazing place where our kids attend.  Where each child is celebrated for who they are and the stories they share.  Their teachers embraced Addy and Austin, loved them, and celebrated with us when Sarah came home.  Our children are loved in this magical place, and as a mama, that's what matters most.

Even Sarah got in on the action.

And Sarah is making her place in a new Crayon Box.  A place where she will attend school with her brother and sister.  Where she is already celebrated for her miraculous journey home.

 A place where she is hugged, loved, and cherished.

 She does not discriminate.  She hugs all who hold their arms out and those who need a little encouragement.

  Where teachers, parents, and students recognize her for the rock star she has become.

We are grateful for this school, the teachers, the staff, and the loving environment that surrounds each person who walks into the halls.  Thank You!

************************

When I am asked questions about adoption and Down syndrome in Eastern Europe, it's difficult to share the culture and norms regarding children with special needs.  Andy was questioned repeatedly the last few days he was over there about why Sarah, and not one of the other "healthier" children.  In fact, a caretaker told him to come back next year for a specific child by name.

My friend, Kecia, is over in the same country now, finishing the process on her little girl.  We became friends through blogging and email, but met in the capital for three hours over dinner.  We shared experiences thus far in the process, but we shared a common goal: a love for a little girl that was cast aside because of her diagnosis.  She writes about questions she was asked at church here about why she was adopting Mia.  It shows how our little girls are perceived by their country.

My little girl, with her abundant energy, her inquisitive nature, and love for adventure is copying her big brother and sister,

and living every moment to the fullest!