Some neighbors are running in and out of the house playing. As usual, I have asked everyone to stay out of the bedrooms because Alex gets quite territorial about his space and his toys. Not so long ago, there were plenty of episodes of shutting down or getting angry because someone touched something that Alex didn't want them to touch. Which was everything - he didn't want to share anything, and we couldn't blame him for his inexperience with sharing because he'd never had anything to share before. If he did have something he wanted to keep, the only option was to hide it, hoard it, and hang onto it for dear life. You certainly didn't share it, because you'd never see it again.
So to avoid the trigger, we keep his bedroom door closed when friends are in the house.
This afternoon, Alex has impressed me; he calmly showed his friend how to play with a new toy that he recently got for his birthday. He also invited them to play Skylanders on the Wii with him, which is something he doesn't like to share. Then one of our friends asked if they could play on a DS. Alex voluntarily offered his up. And then he said something that absolutely blew me away...
He gave his friend instructions for where to find it in his bedroom.
His English as he spoke was impressive, and I marveled at how he could give someone directions on where to find something. But far more impressive was that Alex was giving someone permission to go into his bedroom, unsupervised, to get one of his most prized possessions. I almost fell to the floor in tears.
We struggle so much with how to guide Alex and Anya, how to teach them gently, how to undo years of less than adequate guidance and care. We second-guess every decision that we make and over analyze every choice we face. We wonder how long it will take, if ever, for them to overcome their coping mechanisms. Some days, I feel helpless to help them. Some days are really hard.
But most days are not. Most days, I am amazed at not only how far they've come, but also at how minimal their issues really are. There should be so many more struggles, so many more hardships, given everything they've been through. The one we hear about most often is Reactive Attachment Disorder, but there's a whole list of other syndromes and symptoms that could - and maybe should - be plaguing our household. And there's no guarantee that more issues will not creep up in the months and years to come. But so far, problems have been minimal, understandable, and often predictable.
I say all this because, despite how we want to believe that adoption is a "happily ever after" affair, the difficulties of adopting are often plastered all over mass media. It is the truth; children who are abused or neglected are sometimes incapable of being rescued and loved the way that we adoptive parents hope. I've read blog after blog, article after article, to this effect: We want to save them, and sometimes they can't be saved. My fear is that this may scare potential adoptive parents away from taking a risk.
What I want people to know is that not every child is unreachable. Not every child is damaged beyond repair. There are success stories. Our kids, who have experienced things in their young lives that we will never fully grasp, are proof of this. Some days are difficult and emotional, but just 5 months after we walked out of that orphanage on June 27th, I truly believe that Anya and Alex will be a 100% a success story. My children are making very visible progress. They are capable of giving and receiving affection. They are bonding in very real ways with us, with friends, with extended family, with teachers. They are learning to cope and express themselves more appropriately. It's a gift to watch all of this unfold, and I pray that we will continue to watch it unfold for a very long time to come.
Yes, there are no guarantees, and not every adopted child will thrive or make their adoptive family a happier family. But every child deserves for someone to take that chance on them.
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