She was tiny, stinky (we teased her and said she had 'Breath of the Dragon'), and so far delayed that I admit to feeling more than a bit scared ("terrified" might be a more appropriate term), but she was my daughter and in many ways the experience of meeting her and holding her that first time fulfilled the dream of adoption that had been in my heart since girlhood.
We had done our homework in preparation for adopting, and expected a child who was fearful and rejected one or both of us. Instead, we met this calm little child who seemed to wonder just where we'd been for her first 23 months of life and what the hell had taken us so long to get there. I loved that, but I wondered and worried if she'd look at every stranger the way she looked at Dave & I that day--so trusting, so open, so willing to be ours that it scared me.
Spend five minutes with her now, and there is no doubt who her family is and which four lucky people get to claim her as ours.
She loves her brothers and finds their antics hilarious.
She thinks her daddy can do no wrong and has been known to profess how much she likes him, especially when she's mad at me ;)
She loves me, her Mama, even though I didn't get to do so many of the 'mama' things I did with the boys when they were babies. I think of her birthmother and what she gave up, and hope that someday, somehow, she will know how pure and honest and deep my love for Marley is.
There are things that Marley does (including being so incredibly stubborn that I am torn between frustration and admiration) that make me wonder: Is this a girl thing? a little sister thing? a birth family/genetic thing? an orphanage thing? an adoption thing? a Marley thing? or simply a thing thing? It's kind of like rattling off all of the usual questions we moms ask ourselves about our kids, but with a few extra layers piled on top to keep it interesting. And, keeping it interesting is something she excels at. When I look back at the pictures and videos of the strides we celebrated with her, it almost breaks my heart all over again because it is right there in front of my eyes, how much impact the orphanage setting had on her early development. But she had so much in store for us and has exceeded every tentative hope I felt for her.
At 2, she learned to pull up in her crib:
At 2 1/2, she had a few clear words:
A few months later, she started preschool in a language-enriched non-categorical special education program. Big lump in the throat that day, watching her "big" brother carry that Tinkerbell backpack for her.
And I'll admit to having a big old hunk of "stuff" to work through regarding the whole special ed thing. You'd think that as a special ed teacher, I'd instantly feel comfortable with my daughter being in special education classes, but that was just not the case. Knowing in my head that she needed the help didn't go very far to help me get through conversations that went something like this:
"Where does your daughter go to preschool?"
"She goes to ____".
"Oh, I didn't know they had a preschool."
"She's actually in the special ed program."
"Oh. . . " (long pause).
I'm still learning not to end that conversation with a rushed apology/explanation "She's adopted from China and had a cleft palate blah blah blah." Anytime I've said that, I end up with someone staring at me like I'm some sort of saint, not a mom who gets totally pissed when my 3 year old is saying something for the 100th time that I can't understand and we're both losing our noodles over it. I get mad at myself for trying to explain away her special needs, rather than stating them for what they are--obstacles she has fought like hell to overcome, but that still drive us all batty once in awhile.
This summer, at age 3 1/2, she learned to swim without her life jacket, including underwater backward somersaults and picking dive toys off the bottom of the pool.
To see her now. . .it still takes my breath away at times to think of how much she has changed and how easily she grew into an independent spirit. She talks in full sentences, she sings, she dances, she says "No" and gives me death stares that I was hoping not to face until the teenage years. She loves to cook and to play with her babies. She loves to ham it up for the camera:
She likes to get fancied up:
But is just as happy taking a fully-clothed dip in a river:
Every day she lines up an entire fleet of strollers and cars packed full of so much junk that you'd think she was preparing for a bag lady convention.
I emptied her purse two weeks ago and found a gigantic can of artichoke hearts inside. That sucker was heavy and I have no idea how long she had been lugging it around. As I type, Casey is giving her hell for hiding his Big Time Rush CD inside her Little People farm, and I just dug the whisk, a plastic walrus, 4 legos and a dried up fruit snack out of the seat of her Elmo car. Seriously, we may have a future star of one of those reality TV shows like "Hoarders Anonymous" or maybe a remake of "Sanford & Son". And yes, this is one of those things that leaves me wondering: Is it an orphanage thing? an adoption thing? a Marley thing?. . . .
She is a joy and a little turkey at the same time, but mostly she's an amazing girl who squeezes as much playtime, affection and attention out of every day as she deems adequate. And while I won't pretend that having three kids is easy (too many of my loyal readers would call my bluff on that anyway), I know without a doubt that getting to be her Mama, giving her brothers the gift of growing up with a sister, and her Daddy the gift of having a little girl who thinks he's the bees knees--these things will sustain me through those days that leave me yearning for more and less all at the same time.
For my friends who read my posts on facebook only, click on 'see original post' so that you will be able to view the videos.
