hers and mine

Have you read the book, Two Little Girls? I read it ages ago and, quite frankly, can't remember if it was good or not. I do vividly remember thinking that I hoped her children, especially her second daughter, never read that book.

So, I'm cautious about sharing.

I've read so many stories, and have become vf's with families who've brought home little six- and seven-year-old girls from Russia. After a settling-in period, which seems to often include some very physical moments, these girls hit the ground running.

Their backgrounds, however, are quite different to my little bunny's. We're not going to be running any time soon. We're going to be having a nice leisurely walk. And it's a walk I'm so looking forward to taking! But, I'm not sure that it's one I'm going to be blogging. We'll see.

I'm going to be discreet from now until court. You'll just have to bear with me and know that it's all worth it. ;>

Let's see...

She is not at all what I expected.
We are perfect for each other.

• I'm a teacher.
• I was a psych major...until I realized all I could do was go to grad school...which would postpone my acting career even further.
• I ended up with a psych minor.
• My focus was on children--developmental psychology.
• I've had an interest in, and done much research about, the challenges d2b has in front of her.
• I've got lots of clothes in her size. ;>
  

Everyone who sees us--the examining doctor, my agency staff, the sw, the director of the orphanage thinks we're a good match, one that is more than good, one that is deep and strong and true. My child-charming skills, while not a surprise to me, were a source of amazement to many onlookers. The sw was very impressed that I was "a professional".

It wasn't until the second day that I knew. It was then that I realized that if I'd prayed for the right child to be referred to me first, then I'd best open my eyes to why this was the right child, instead of worrying about why I might not be the right Mama for her. It was that second morning, when I was walking to get a Coke before we left, that I realized I couldn't really put a limit on my obedience. I am adopting because I know it is what I'm supposed to do. So, who am I do say that I'll obey up to a point but no further? That actually made me laugh. I was much calmer going in the second day. And I knew when I saw her again that she was mine, and I was hers.

Even though I didn't know it at the time, I started being her Mama about five minutes after they brought her to me, a scared little bird, so worried about what to do and determined to do things correctly, and then proceeded to read her history out in front of her. I was livid!

She understands my Russian. She listens to me, and turns to me, instead of to the translator. (After my second translator's first day, which was the second day, I had to get her to back off and stop trying to push things. It isn't her job to bond with d2b or to run a dog-and-pony show. And, frankly, what she thought was important I didn't. I gave her the cameras to keep her busy. It helped...but she's not a great photographer.)

She is more agreeable than any child I've ever met. Ever. She does everything willingly and wholeheartedly.

She loves balloons and balls. She like puzzles and games and drawing. She likes hearts and stickers. We had so much fun playing with some wooden farm animals I found. (We made the goat a cow and then a dog. There was no dog. How can there not be a sabaka?)

She has never had a choice and doesn't really know how to make one. She will choose between two activities, but was very perplexed when we asked her what color shoes I should bring her. Several colors were suggested and she was still perplexed. When I told her, "Mama will choose?" I got a big grin (oh, those dimples), an emphatic nod and a big sigh of relief.

She's figured out what makes me smile (like her dramatic, tak, tak, tak --kind of like "so" and kind of just a thinking, tongue-clucking noise--while she's thinking or looking for an answer) and does it purposely. She mirrors the way I'm sitting. If my chin is in my hand, hers will be moments later.

She has scars over both eyebrows that look like injuries that should have been stitched and weren't.

She is a teeny-tiny little peanut. She's 111 cm tall and weighs...not nearly enough!

She is very precise in everything that she does. She is eager to please and to do things the. right. way. She looks into my eyes and just searches.

She has the sweetest voice, the deepest dimples, the most gorgeous eyes.

She cried every day when I left. This, her panic the first day, her inconsolablity the second, her determination the third and her melting into my hug on the last day broke my heart four different ways.

I left her a stuffed elephant (what else?) that I'd been sleeping with for weeks so that it would smell like me (the best connector to memory). Elephants never forget. They promised to let her sleep with it. My arms are so empty without that elephant.

She loved her photo book about her new life--home, cats, school, friends and family. She likes that she will have three uncles. She likes her toys and her dresses. She was excited about the circus. She said she will throw the mouse for Mia. (Mia is thrilled.) But her absolute favorite page, the one she poured over every time we looked at it, was a page with photos of the two of us. She was just amazed. We decorated the book with stickers. She was ready to go home on Thursday--and I was so ready to take her! They said they would read her book with her.

She is mine and I am hers.

She needs to come home. Now.