Becoming

I would imagine what it would be like when we brought Daniel home. I figured if I imagined that it would be horrible that I would be pleasantly surprised (doesn't that sound awful?!)

It hasn't been horrible.

It has been hard.

Very hard.

And good.

Very good.

The physical demands on my body are almost overwhelming. I realized yesterday that I hadn't taken a shower since Monday. Delicious.

I lay down to sleep and my joints and muscles scream after a day of dealing with Daniel. Picking him up. Holding him while he goes through detox from the psychotropic drugs that they were feeding him (and all the other children in his orphanage) three times a day. We are weaning off of them gently. It is crazy that he begs for them as I cut doses.

Being his mother is a whole different ball of wax than being Grace, Claire and Wyatt's mommy. There is an element that is pride related. I have always had the children that people compliment. Now I have the little boy that splashes a girl at the zoo and earns glares from mothers. I can say I am hereby ashamed of the times that I have made judgements about other peoples children or parenting skills. Some people are genuinely horrible parents, no doubt, but some are just in over their heads. And right now that is me.

And then I lay down with him and he traces the lines of my face with his little fingers and tucks me in just right and then rocks himself to sleep. Which the first time I saw broke my heart, but it really is soothing. I was with him last night until he fell asleep and he almost had be asleep too with his rhythmic rocking. And then he stopped. And I was like, "What is the deal?!" and he was asleep.

He is kind with the other kids. I mean, typical sibling things, he isn't a saint, but neither are the other three.

Nothing matters to him. There is nothing that can be taken away that will make him repentant if he is being naughty. The biggest punishment is making him sit in my lap when he wants to make trouble.

He asks to go back to the orphanage. This does not make me feel bad at all. It is perfectly understandable; it was his home. It was predictable.

He flipped out after talking with one of his old friends who was adopted last year. I think it scared him that she couldn't speak Russian anymore.

He now uses some English words, "Let's go!" "Doctor!" "Mommy!" Little by little.


He knows that he is changing. And that is exciting and scary for him.

He is becoming Daniel Sponseller.