Re-entry

We're back from Massachusetts, and I think we're all recovering pretty well.  It was wonderful to see my family, most for Sarah's first time.  It was just exhausting for all of us.

Sarah did a lot better during the the visit than I'd expected.  In fact, she seems to be having a harder time readjusting to being at home than she had getting used to Grammy's.  I wonder if it's some sort of PTSD (not that I'm calling the trip traumatic). 

She seemed comfortable sleeping in the Pack n Play in my old bedroom with me and slept well at bedtime and naptime at first.  She had a progressively harder time, though, and was racking up a deficit, so I'm glad we didn't stay longer.

On Tuesday, we had lunch with my Uncle Bill and his partner Jane.  Sarah was a charmer as always.  She had her first drink of water from a straw, which she mastered quickly.  Unfortunately, she then pulled the straw from the plastic cover and proceeded to groom herself with the water that dribbled out.  I'm not kidding.  She would get water on her hands then run them through her hair and down her face.  It was like an Herbal Essences commercial...not exactly table-appropriate behavior.  She also had her first taste of lobster, from my yummy lobster roll.  She found it to her liking.

Sarah's cousins, Forrest, Sam, and Kelley, had a half-day of school on Wednesday, so we visited that afternoon.  She was a little overhelmed by all of the attention and activity but held up pretty well through guitar and saxophone solos and being deluged with hand-me-down toys.  She was one hungry, tired girl by dinnertime, though.

We were at Grammy's for Thanksgiving Day, and the meal was amazing, as always, with my mom's farm-raised turkey and homemade pies.  After dinner, Sarah started climbing the two stairs between the dining room and kitchen and quickly got into her "zone."  Up, down, up, down, over and over.  Her cousins got in on the action, and she kept everyone entertained for a good half-hour.

Sarah made Grammy's day by letting her hold her for a few seconds on Tuesday, the first person other than Don and me to hold her since we came home from China.  On Thursday, she let Grammy hold her for a few minutes, which really put a smile on Grammy's face.

Our trip home Friday was fairly uneventful.  We had a long layover in Minneapolis and just happened to choose gates with flights to Tokyo and Beijing to relax and let Sarah do some crawling on the carpet.  She loved seeing all of the Asian faces and even got to say "hello" to a little boy about her age.

As I mentioned earlier, Sarah seems to be having a rough time re-entering our quiet life on the farm.  On Friday and Saturday, she was whiny and clingy and just plain unhappy.  She seems to have returned to her contented self today, though.  Sleep-wise, she's been an angel.  The last two nights, she's pointed to her crib, then laid there quietly while going to sleep -- no jabbering, rolling, or sitting up -- and been out in less than 10 minutes.  She's been restless during the night but hasn't cried much.  She's been up at 5:20 both mornings, uncanny since that's the time she was waking before our trip.  She has a strong biological clock, that girl.

We're Off!

We fly back to Massachusetts tomorrow.  I've been packing, and I'm exhausted. I used to get stressed out about packing for myself.  Now, I also have a toddler to pack for.  There's the panda bear, the favorite burp cloth, the special quilt, the sound machine, the lullaby CD, the right books...all of which can't actually be put in a suitcase until tomorrow, since they're needed tonight.  You should see my checklist.

I've been telling Sarah that we're going in an airplane to visit Grammy, and I think she gets it.  She points to Mom's photo on the fridge and smiles.  I've been trying to prepare her for meeting her uncles and cousins, too, but I think that will still be a bit overwhelming.  Then again, she loves people, so I'm sure she'll just roll with it.

The sleeping is going okay. We had some really good nights last week, then a couple of bad. Thursday night, she got up in the middle of the night and screamed when I put her back in the crib. I decided to try leaving the room, since I've sensed that I just antagonize her by being there and ignoring her. She screamed for 55 minutes. I went back in at intervals, the way "they" say to, but she just got progressively angrier until she wore herself out and went to sleep.  She showed no signs of trauma in the morning, but I'm not happy that I did it.  I really don't know what the right thing to do is, but that doesn't feel right.  I'm still determined to get her to sleep without crying.

To make matters worse, we took her to an opthalmologist on Friday (per the International Adoption Clinic's recommendation). We had no idea how invasive it would be. They put drops in her eyes, which made her scream, then came back ten minutes later (after she had recovered) and put more in. The nurse then told me she'd need another round of drops, since her eyes are so dark. She also said they would strap her to a "papoose board" to hold her down to see into her eyes.

At that point, Don and I decided to just leave and cut our losses. We told the doctor, and he said, "We won't do more drops, and I'll just see what I can see with her in your lap." He did, and he saw enough to say there aren't any tumors or anything, but that's about it. I feel awful that we put her through that. It seems unnecessary.  I can't help but think that doctors sometimes do procedures, or recommend them, just because they're available, not because they're needed.  No other kids get their eyes checked at 16 months....

As if that weren't enough, she got her seasonal flu booster and her first H1N1 shot, also.  It was one hellacious day for Sarah Grace.  I can't believe she has to get an H1N1 booster in a month.  Will the torture never end?

In cheerier news, Sarah seems to be learning new skills every day.  She has finally mastered stacking the wooden rings on the spindle, and she's starting to figure out puzzles, which is exciting.  What I find most impressive, though, is that she's learned matching.  She has a wooden Noah's Ark set.  She'll pick up an animal, and I'll tell her the name, then I'll say, "Where's the other one?"  She scans the pile, and picks the right one every time!  That reminds me, I need to go get the monkey out of the pile.  Its mate is missing, and she goes crazy looking for it.

She now crawls like the wind and pulls herself up on everything, including the dog.  Thankfully, Cadi is very patient.  She loves to stand at our big picture window and look for the donkeys and watch cars going by.  She can stand on her own for maybe five seconds and cruises the furniture with ease.  We have a stained glass rooster hanging in an east-facing window in the living room, and she looks for it every morning as the sun comes up, then does her "cock-a-doodle-do" rendition.

There's so much to be grateful for this Thanksgiving.  We are blessed.

Dreaming of Sleep

I can sum up our last week or so by stating what we haven't been doing, which is sleep.  It's old news now, but Sarah continues her struggles with slumber.  On Monday, after a night of no less than nine wakings, I called the International Adoption Clinic for advice.  The nurse told me that I had gone beyond the call of duty by sleeping in Sarah's room for this long and that it was time to teach her to put herself to sleep (and back to sleep) by Ferberizing and return to my own bed. 

If you're unfamiliar with Richard Ferber's method, it's basically letting the child "cry it out."  You leave her in her room to go to sleep and check back in five minutes to let her know you're still around.  Then you leave for 10 minutes, then 15 (or maybe 20, I forget).  I've been opposed to this practice from the beginning, since, in my opinion, it goes against the basic premise of helping an adopted child feel safe and cared for and, well, it just seems unnecessarily cruel.  When our pediatrician told us to do it a couple of weeks ago, I listened politely, thinking, "This woman doesn't know anything about adopted kids." 

When the nurse at the Adoption Clinic, who had consulted with the director of the clinic, told me to do it, however, I thought it might be worth a try.  Chronic fatigue and the hope that Sarah might not even cry when I left pushed me over the edge.  So, Monday night, when she reached for her crib after her bottle, I put her in, kissed her goodnight, and left, clutching the baby monitor. 

At first, she just seemed confused and called out for me a few times.  Then she whimpered and started to cry.  She cried rather half-heartedly for a few minutes then stopped and seemed to be talking to herself.  This is when I made my Big Mistake. 

When five minutes had passed and she wasn't crying, I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to go in or not (remember, I was running on very little sleep).  So, I went in.  She was sitting in her crib, not looking traumatized at all.  I told her I loved her and was right outside and left again. 

This time, she started screaming right away, in anger.  She cried for a few minutes then stopped and began babbling.  Not having learned my lesson, I went in at the 10-minute mark.  When I left, she began to wail, and it wasn't in anger.  She quickly became hysterical.  I knew what I was supposed to do now -- I was supposed to let her cry, to the point of making herself sick, if necessary, to teach her to soothe herself to sleep (as contradictory as that may sound).  I went in.  I just couldn't do that to her.  When I reached the crib, she lunged for me.  I picked her up and comforted her, to no avail.  I finally sat on my bed, and she dove for the quilt and passed out.

The next day, I talked with an attachment therapist and told her that three medical professionals had told me to Ferberize my daughter and I didn't agree with them.  But she did.  She said it was for Sarah's own good, and the sooner the better because it will just get harder.  Hmmm....  I told her that I had screwed up by going in when Sarah was content and that I was worried I'd blown the chance to have her learn with minimal trauma.  She said, "Nonsense, that's the beauty of parenting, you always get another chance to get it right."  I'm not sure I  believe that, but it's a nice thought.

I usually have faith in experts.  I guess it's my scientific background.  But I also believe in following my heart, and that usually wins out.  Experience has shown that my heart can't always be trusted, but I still can't help listening to it, and it's becoming more reliable with age.  Besides, I'm the expert on Sarah Grace Hultman.  :)

So, I've developed my own strategy.  I've decided to put her in her crib and teach her to go to sleep while I'm in the room reading (by flashlight) and sleep in her room until she can put herself back to sleep without crying or my picking her up. Once she can do those things, I'll try leaving her alone to go to sleep, and I'll go back to sleeping in my bed.  I hope that will soften the hard blow of reality for her.

Last night, she went to sleep in her crib in about 15 minutes, with little crying. She woke at 3:30 this morning and went back to sleep on her own in a few minutes, after I tucked her back in.  She slept until 6:00.  I think that's a big improvement.  I hope within a few nights she'll be pretty good at putting herself to sleep and maybe even sleep in a little longer.

We're definitely making progress on naps. I've learned that sleep is like money, the more you get, the more you get ("the rich get richer").  So, I've become obsessive about Sarah's naps.  This week, I've mastered listening for her to wake up and rushing in to rub her back and put her back to sleep (it's worked three times so far!).  Her naps have stretched from about 1 - 2 hours to 2 - 3 hours.  That should help her sleep better at night.

By the way, if you're looking for some interesting reading (perhaps when you can't sleep?), I recommend Sleepless in America, by Mary Sheedy Kurcinka.  It's full of useful information and suggestions for improving your kids' and your own sleep (but be prepared to pare back the extracurricular activities and TV time).

Amidst all my anguish over Sarah's sleep, I've been worrying about our Thanksgiving plans.  We've planned since the summer to drive back to Massachusetts to be with my family so that Sarah can meet her uncles and cousins and spend her first Thanksgiving where the holiday began (a little Yankee pride showing there).  On the way, we were going to spend a night with my dear friend Alison and her family. 

Months ago, I really thought Sarah would be ready for such a trip.  I've been having misgivings for the last couple of weeks, though.  Along with the sleep concerns, it became clear on Sunday that she would not endure a 20-hour car ride gracefully.  We drove to the Twin Cities to visit Don's family, a six-hour roundtrip.  She slept about 30 minutes.  For the last hour of the drive home, she cried and reached for me.  She'd reached her limit.

On Monday, I decided that the trip to Mass. was sheer lunacy.  Even if we all survived the drive, how would Sarah get any rest in unfamiliar surroundings.  My conversation with the nurse put the nail in the coffin.  She said the trip would probably set us back to Square 1 in the sleep department.  I don't remember what Square 1 was, but I don't want to go back there!

Fortunately, I must have gotten a little more sleep than usual Monday night, and yesterday I started brainstorming other options.  We've decided to fly back to Mass., which will cut the duration of the trip in half and drastically reduce the complexity. Fortunately, the trip to China gave us enough frequent flyer miles to get cheap tickets, even at this late date. 

I know the trip will probably still wreak havoc on Sarah's sleep routine, but I'm prepared to work on it for a week or two after we return before I can implement the "sleeping on her own" plan.  I think it will be worth it for Sarah to be surrounded by family on her first Thanksgiving.  Some things are more important than sleep.

Now, your reward for slogging through all of that (or did you just scroll down until you saw photos????)....

Then and Now

Sarah came to us three months ago today.  What a transformative three months it's been (for all of us).  Is this the same child?

In China on Day 3:

At home last week:

The same child, no doubt, but so much happier and relaxed.  I love you, Sarah!

A Prized Promotion

This was supposed to be the customary "could she be any cuter?" First Halloween post, but I'm feeling moved to make it more.  I'm on the verge of tears...joyful tears...and I have to share.  Maybe it was the three-shot turtle mocha I got at Caribou Coffee on the way home from church, but I don't think so.  I am just genuinely and completely happy.  I don't recall feeling this way...ever.

Of course, since marrying Don, I have been happier than I thought possible, but now it's reached a new level.  Caring for someone who cannot care for herself and seeing the happiness and contentment she feels is overwhelming.  It chokes me up.

In the last week, Sarah seems to have promoted me from favorite nanny to Mommy.  There is more tenderness and trust in her actions.  When I pick her up, she wraps her arms and legs around me and pats me on the back enthusiastically.  When I rock her to sleep, she buries her head in my chest and melts into me.  Upon waking in the wee hours last night, she calmly rolled over and went back to sleep after I reassured her from my bed beside her crib.  It was magical.

I get great joy from watching her play in her room.  Every so often, she'll head down the hall and disappear into the space Don and I created just for her.  She starts the lullabies on her boom box, pulls out some books, plays with her shoes, and hugs one of her panda bears.  She seems utterly sanguine and secure.  It makes my heart swell.

In church this morning, between crumpling the bulletin and playing with the hand sanitizer, she lifted her little face for a kiss, and then for another.  It doesn't get much better.

When I told Don how happy I feel, he said, "Patience pays off."  But those of you who knew me B.D. know I was anything but patient.  I was often downhearted and even depressed.  The last four years of waiting for Sarah were sheer torture, and I sometimes lost hope.  But I persevered, and I am so thankful I did.  I had no idea the rewards would be so rich.

So now, after all that sentimentality, here is a photo of Sarah from last night.  It was a low-key evening, as usual, with only three Trick-or-Treaters at our door.  After dinner, I put Sarah's ladybug costume on her (a transformation she found confusing, I'm sure), loaded her into the Burley stroller, and headed for our two backdoor neighbors' houses.  She was quiet and stonefaced most of the time, but they got a treat.  Marie gave her a box of mini Teddy Grahams, which I've decided is the perfect First Halloween handout.  We came home, ate a few bears before bed, and called it a night.