Contemplating Her Navel

Sarah hasn't been her usual jovial self this weekend.  Friday night when she was taking a bath, she kept touching her belly button and signing that it hurt.  I thought maybe she was concerned that it wasn't supposed to be there, so I pulled out my shirt and showed her mine to comfort her.  She recoiled with a disgusted, frightened look and signed "hurt" again.  I told her it was okay, that it didn't hurt; it was supposed to be that way.  She continued to look concerned and slid herself away from me, to the far side of the tub.  I managed to distract her with her bath toys, but when I was putting her pajamas on, she again pointed to her navel and signed "hurt." 

She spent most of yesterday morning playing with Dad and was fine, but by lunch she was out of sorts again.  She wasn't happy with anything I gave her and barely made eye contact with me.  She then had a drawn-out crying spell before her nap and refused her bottle.  When I went to get her up, instead of greeting me cheerfully and showing me her stuffed animals, as usual, she lay in the corner of her crib and ignored me.  She shunned me most of the afternoon, as well.  She was more like herself today, but in the bath tonight, she again kept poking her belly button and looking worried.

This afternoon, I was reading about writing a lifebook.  A lifebook tells an adopted child's story, from birth through becoming part of her adoptive family.  It helps her understand and embrace her life's journey.  For the section on the child's birth, the website suggested using a photo of a belly button to convey to a toddler that she was carried by, and connected to, her birthmother, just as all children are, before coming to her adoptive mom. 

Now, I'm the first to admit that I tend to over-analyze and read into things, but don't you think it's an interesting coincidence that Sarah has been concerned about her belly button and ambivalent toward me?  I know she doesn't know the significance of her navel, but maybe on some subconscious level she is holding
any grief and confusion she has about what's happened to her in the hole in her tummy.  I can only hope that it's small enough to fit there.

New Year, New Look

I thought it was time for a change, so I asked Kim at 7M Designs (a fellow China adoptive mom) for a new look.  Here it is!  I love it...what do you think?

Our Not-So-Little Girl

Sarah had her 18-month checkup on Friday.  She is almost 34" tall and 26 lbs. 6 oz.  That's the 97th percentile for height and 75th for weight...on the U.S. charts.  For southern China girls, she's barely even on the charts.  I was ready to predict she'll be the first Chinese player in the WNBA, until I Googled and found out Haixia Zheng was.  Darn.

Sarah still doesn't like doctors, but she did much better this time.  In fact, she started showing off and charming the pediatrician.  The doctor asked us if she was saying any words.  When we said, "Mama and Dada," Sarah started repeating them over and over, and smiling from ear to ear.  We got away with just one shot, and we talked the nurse into giving it to her while she sat in Dad's lap.  She definitely did better that way than when she was pinned down on the table.  Big improvement.

The doctor isn't concerned about Sarah's lack of speech.  Sarah vocalizes a lot and understands just about everything we say to her.  I've read that sometimes when a child is working really hard on one skill, development of others can take a back seat.  Since Sarah had so many physical skills to catch up on and she can communicate most of her needs with signs, I think speech hasn't been a priority.  I bet she'll make great strides in the next six months.

Speaking of signs, Sarah learns quickly and is eager to use all that she knows.  The DVD she got for Christmas has "doll" on it.  She was playing with a dolphin in the tub the other day.  When I told her what it was, she immediately signed "doll."  Another new sign is "read."  Now, when we're going through the family photos on the fridge and come to Don's son Reid, she makes the sign for "read."  Homonyms are tricky.

Sarah is finally willing to drink milk from a sippy cup (water has been acceptable for a long time, but not milk).  We're now down to one bottle a day.  I'm surprised by how easily she's given up her morning and evening bottles.  I'm also a little sad, since those are the ones that I used to give her (Don does the one before nap).  The days of cradling her in my arms are gone.  :(

Lastly, I've been feeling guilty about yesterday's post.  With all the tragedy and hardship in Haiti, I'm afraid I sounded rather insensitive and shallow.  My thoughts and prayers are with all those suffering such devastation, and I'm keenly aware of just how blessed I am.  I couldn't ask for anything more in life.  I wish everyone could be so fortunate.

Season of Light

I love my sunroom.  Our home would be just another raised ranch without it.  It's surrounded by trees, so in the summer, it feels like a cozy, shaded treehouse.  In the winter, with the leaves gone, it's sunny (go figure), cheery, and warmer than the rest of the house.  So, while others bemoan the dark, cold days of winter, I'm enjoying my season of light.

Saturday Smile

Since my last two posts have been on the serious side, with no photos, I think I owe it to Sarah's adoring public to post this shot.  It's a little out of focus, but it's clear she's a cutie.  I love those smiling eyes!

This and That

Tonight's the sixth night I've put Sarah to bed and let her cry.  The longest she's cried is 15 minutes, and that was just once (and still torture).  Most nights she's cried for less than minute, thank goodness.  She cried a few times during the night for the first few nights but hasn't in a couple of nights now.  Last night, we didn't hear anything from her from 7:15 to 6:00.  I actually got a good night's sleep!

Have you seen the show "Modern Family"?  We just started watching it a few weeks ago, but I'm hooked.  I just love Mitchell and Cameron, the gay guys with the adopted Asian daughter.  Last night, they were "Ferberizing" their baby, or letting her cry.  Mitchell was being hard-nosed about it, and Cameron kept running in to rescue her.  It was hysterical. 

Ironically, the first time we watched the show, Mitchell had thrown the baby in the air and hit her head on the ceiling.  They rushed her to the hospital to make sure she was okay.  The doctor said she was fine and, "Babies are made for new parents."  A few days before, Sarah had dived head-first off the living room chair, and I'd caught her by her feet just before her head hit the floor.  I was beside myself with worry that she had been hurt.  I Googled symptoms of a brain injury.  I kept checking to make sure her pupils were equal.  Don told me she was fine.  It wasn't until I read that you don't need to worry unless the baby is unconscious for more than a minute or two that I decided she was probably okay.

Speaking of Sarah, it's time for an update on her activities.  The big news is that she's now walking!  She's taken 22 steps in a row.  She's still not confident in it and has to be coaxed to do it, but she's proud as a peacock when she does. 

Other tidbits:

• She holds her fist under her chin to say grace before dinner.
• She knows about 40 signs and uses them all the time.  She's got "thank you" down cold and is learning "please."
• She often gets jealous when Don and I talk to each other and starts yelling for attention.
• She mimicks my frustrated growl when Sophie claws the furniture.
• She loves Swedish sausage, which Don makes at Christmas, much to my disgust (there's something about stuffing pig intestines with mashed up potatoes, beef, pork, and onion that turns me off).  It's about the blandest food there is, and I'll wager she's the only Chinese girl with a taste for it.
• When the Christmas lights were on the bushes out front, she would look out each night and sign "flower."
• She shaves with Daddy's electric shaver.
• She loves to dance with Mom and raises her arms and whines when a good song comes on.
• She loves her dog and shares Cheerios with her on the floor.  She even teases Cadi by holding out a Cheerio then taking it back.  Cadi has been amazingly patient with her.

 That's it for now.  I'm off for a good night's sleep in my own bed!  :)

The Rest of the Story

I'm sure you enjoyed the happy photos of Sarah at Christmas.  She had a great time, and I was so thankful to finally spend the holidays with my daughter.  The sad truth, though, is that I was just trying to survive each day, and dreading each night.  She still was not sleeping well, and therefore, neither was I.  While she seemed to handle a sleep deficit with grace and good humor, I was struggling to function.

We visited the International Adoption Clinic in Minneapolis a week before Christmas and spent a long time discussing her sleep issues with the specialists there.  We made it clear that we didn't want to let her "cry it out."  Although they assured us that she's well attached and nothing can affect that now, I felt as though I'd be undermining the trust and happiness we've shared by ignoring her pleas.

They suggested putting rolled-up blankets around the inside of her crib to make it cozier and using a weighted blanket to give her security.  I hurried to make the blanket by stitching together two pieces of flannel on my ancient sewing machine and filling sections with rice.  She didn't like the makeshift bumpers or the blanket; I think they cramped her style.

Although she was still waking multiple times a night, I decided, as a gift to myself, to start sleeping in my own bed again on Christmas Eve.  I wasn't expecting much rest, but at least I'd be cozy next to my husband in between trips to her room.  She seemed to accept the change, as long as I showed up at her bedside promptly when summoned.  She was awake twice during the night, then up for the day at 3:50 a.m.

By 1:00 a.m. on the 26th, I'd hit the wall.  We were celebrating Christmas with Don's kids at our house that day, and I knew I wouldn't make it through the day if I didn't get some rest.  When Sarah awoke that time, I put her in our bed with Don and went downstairs to the guestroom to sleep.  That may sound insensitive, but he's able to sleep through much of her rolling and kicking, while I'm not.  Of course, with me gone, there's more room, too.  After an hour or so, she fell asleep until almost 6:00 a.m.

The following night went the same way.  This time, I tried to tough it out with her in our bed.  Three hours and numerous kicks to the stomach and face later, I went downstairs again.  In all fairness, I have to report that I also received many sweet kisses during that time, often opening my eyes to find her face inches from mine waiting for a smooch.  She's a sweet insomniac.

The next few nights, I had regained a little stamina and visited her room to comfort her four or five times.  Meanwhile, I tried everything I could think of to help her sleep.  I put a sweatshirt on over her sleeper, in case she was cold; I started using the Twilight Turtle night light (which is very cool, by the way) my sister sent her for Christmas; I started saying a prayer with her before bed.

Then, we had a miracle night where she didn't cry at all.  Of course, I lay in bed awake wondering if she was okay and waiting for the crying on the baby monitor.  Unfortunately, it proved to be a blip on the radar, and my commute between bedrooms resumed the following evening.

At this point, I was feeling truly desperate, having had maybe a handful of good nights' sleep since July.  We had done everything we could, except follow the advice that numerous experts (including mothers and grandmothers) had been giving us for months -- let her cry.  We had tried it a couple of times in November, and I felt so awful I couldn't do it again.

We grudgingly accepted that whatever it took to get her to sleep would benefit all of us, and the sooner it happened the better.  So, for a couple of nights, when she awoke, I would go in and re-settle her then leave.  She would cry for 5-10 minutes then stop, but I'm not sure she was going back to sleep. She would then cry about an hour later, and I would do the same thing. That time she would cry for only about a minute when I left, but this would go on all night. I was getting no more sleep, and I felt like a traitor.

I realized yesterday that going in when she cried was the wrong thing to do (obvious, maybe, but I'll plea sleep-deprivation).  I desperately wanted her to know that I would respond to her cries when she needed me, but I saw that I was in fact rewarding her crying by showing up.  I've read a number of books about teaching kids to sleep without letting them cry, and I really wanted to make that work, but I think she was beyond that point.  She was abusing her power, so to speak, and needed a little discipline.

So, last night I bit the bullet. I went through our usual bedtime routine then tucked her in and left. She immediately jumped up and started screaming.  But then, something amazing happened (I'm channeling How the Grinch Stole Christmas here)...she stopped! After less than a minute, she stopped. I think she was asleep soon after.  She cried twice more during the night, each time for less than a minute. I DID NOT go in. She woke at 5:40 this morning (a little later than usual, if you can believe it) and seemed cheerier and more content than usual today (she tends to be clingy). Unbelievable. I even slept most of the night. What a feeling!

This evening, I did the same thing.  She cried just as vehemently but stopped in 20 seconds.  Her heart wasn't in it, I guess.  Perhaps she knows the jig is up and has decided not to waste her energy.  Or maybe she's decided to give her hypersensitive mom a break.

So, as they say, what a difference a day (or night) makes. I'm sure we're not out of the woods when it comes to sleep issues, but we've definitely turned a corner. I am so relieved. Things have gone so well with all of us sleep-deprived that I can't imagine what life will be like when we're rested.  I'm optimistic we'll find out soon.