My "BaoBao" Sunday July 20th

It’s Sunday and Derek is with the kids at church. Seth is having a long quiet nap and so I turn to my new favorite hobby of blogging. Several people have asked that I share more about Seth’s attachment. I’ve been keeping an attachment journal and trying to write a little bit every day so I can remember this process. I hope maybe I can help others with what I’ve learned.

Most of the attachment process is pretty mundane. We play puzzles, I give him a piece and he puts it in. I hand him a lego and tell him where to put it, if he puts it someplace else we’re done with legos. We read books, and I have to turn the pages. All of these activities are moving his brain activity from the back part of the brain, the fight or flight and trauma center of the brain, to the frontal cortex, where logic and higher reasoning happens. We talk about healing happening in the heart, but much of the healing process is rewiring the brain, creating new neuropathways, and moving the brain activity from it’s trauma center to its logic and reasoning center.

We go for walks and he has to hold my hand and let me lead the way. I feed him every bite of food that he gets in a day, and give him every drink, always requiring eye contact. I bathe him and change him and rock him, feeding him warm milk and human touch. He spends several hours a day in the front pack, hanging out close to me, taking me in, feeling my heart, learning to trust. Over and over again, a hundred times a day we have to go through the trust cycle. He has a need, I meet it, he learns to trust, and so attachment occurs. We create hundred of opportunities for interaction, eye contact and touch, all fundamental to his bonding.

What we do is critical, but mundane to an outside observer. Everyday I’m seeing the results, and it’s amazing to see him give himself over to me. I believe there were others, his nannies that he called his mamas who met his needs, and cared and loved. If they didn't I don't think he would be able to give his trust to me so easily. We did have one pretty dramatic moment this week. Really it’s been 99% routine with him being quite compliant and this one moment of drama, but since some of you asked, here goes. I’ll share the entry from my attachment journal of this past Thursday.

Thursday July 17^th, 2008
Seth has been doing quite well the past few days. I’m amazed how he’s giving me so much control over his life. Melissa came over this morning and we worked on jumping on the mini-tramp. He wouldn’t do it. This was the first time he’s refused to be compliant. We asked Becca & Gregory to jump and then rewarded them with treats. We gave him several times to try, but he still wouldn’t.

After she left I packed him. He seems to need packing to pull himself back to a safe place, where I am in control. He totally relaxes and lets go when he’s in there now. I was wondering if he would rage. He hasn’t raged since Monday and has been doing so great. I figured it was coming and I welcomed it, knowing he probably still had grief he needed to process.

He took a nap and when he woke up we did our usual routine of cuddling and reading books. We were on our 2^nd book when Carlie came in to see if she and Becca could go play next door. When she went back out he wanted to go with her, but I said “no”, we weren’t done with reading. It’s all part of that taking control of his life. It’s hard, because what he asks isn’t wrong, and I would give it to my other kids, but he can’t trust someone he can control, and he has to know I control every aspect of his life right now. He pulled the book out of my hands and hucked it across the room. Then the rage began.

He was more angry than I’ve seen before. It’s surprising, because he’s usually a pretty easy going kid. I had been cradling him in the rocking chair. He tried to grab for my face and claw at it. I was surprised but thought, “Good for you buddy, until you get out your resentment of me trying to be your Mom you’re not going to fully bond to me.” I now held onto his arm so he couldn’t hurt me. It’s so important that when they rage they can’t be allowed to harm anyone or its so damaging to them. He started thrashing and kicking; he was shaking he was so angry. It was heart breaking to see how much fear and anger he carried. He tried to kick me full on in the face. I’m glad I have good reflexes. I was glad he only has one hand to restrain because he was trying to punch me with his little arm but I could keep my face out of reach. He screamed and gnashed his teeth. I held him and kept smiling and lovingly telling him, “Good job getting your ‘mads’ out. You got a lot of ‘mads’. We’ve taken you away from your home and family, I can see why you’re so mad. It’s O.K. how brave of you to let them out.” Over and over, lovingly, calmly I gave him permission to be mad and sad. I couldn’t be tense or upset. I could only be calm, loving and reassuring. I wondered if I could have been so positive if he was older and bigger.

Twice during the rage the anger turned to the most heart-wrenching sorrow and he cried like his heart had been broken, which it probably has. He quit trying to hurt me during those times. After his sadness he even looked settled briefly but then he was trying to put his legs on top of my arm and hang on to my hands. He looked passive but I could see he was trying to take control of me. Then the rage would start again. He’s only 2 ½, and 27 lbs but it was hard to hang on and keep him from hurting himself or me. He raged for 25 minutes. The last thing he shouted before his anger subsided, and it was said with a mixture of anger and anguish was “dau mama” (I want to go to my mamas). I knew he meant he wanted to go to his Mamas in the orphanage (that’s what he called his nannies.) He said it with such sorrow that it broke my heart, not because I feel threatened by his love for his other Mamas but because of the grief and heart break he was feeling, and seeing how much he is missing them.

When he was finished he completely relaxed in my arms and looked into my eyes. Then came the miracle moment. “Ni shr wode baobao (You are my baby)” I told him, “Wo shr nide mama (I am your mama)” He got the sweetest, most content smile on his face and said to me, ““Nide baobao (your baby)” .

I smiled and said it again, “Wode baobao (My baby). Wo shr nide mama (I am your mama)” “Wode mama” he repeated. Over and over again I told him “You are my baby. I am your mama” Everytime he repeated these words he would have the sweetest smile on his face.” We rocked and I sang and talked for a half hour. It felt so healing to both of us.

After we finished I could tell he was wiped out, so I packed him immediately. It felt good to have him so close to my heart. I could tell he felt relieved and relaxed to be in there too.

My friend Tracy called while he was in the pack. He was making a few little noises and since his head is right by mine while he’s in the pack she could hear him. “Who’s that?” she asked. I was surprised because she’s been over here and knows I’ve got Seth in the pack. “Is that Seth?” “Yes, it is” “Oh, it sounded like a baby but I couldn’t figure out why in the world you’d be holding a baby”. I was stunned. I remembered “He had to be my baby before he could be my boy”, and something about our moment this afternoon sent him emotionally back to being my baby, even to the point that his little noises sounded like a baby, not a toddler.

When it was time for bed and I fed him his bottle he felt different. It’s hard to describe. I’ve been cradling and rocking him with a bottle for several days now and when I’ve cradled him he felt like a toddler. Tonight was different. Tonight he felt like a new baby. A couple of times I looked down and was surprised to see such a large child, because it felt like I was rocking a new baby. His posture was different, you know how new babies can’t hold themselves erect, so they’re totally curled along their spine, that’s how he was. He didn’t feel like a toddler, the way he let me hold him, was like a new baby. We repeated our same phrases. “Ni shr wode bao-bao (You’re my baby)” “nide baobao (your baby)” he would repeat. “Wo shr nide mama (I am your mama)” “wode mama (my mama) ”. I made up a little song with these phrases and sang it over and over again. He held my gaze and when he’d repeat the words he had this serene smile on his face. Sometimes he would say it quietly to himself, “baobao”. He was letting himself be my baby. It filled up part of that loss I feel that I didn’t get to rock and hold and feed him when he was a baby. I wondered if anyone took the time to hold him, and look in his eyes with love, when he was a baby. Or did he get his bottle propped in the crib, just like all the other babies lying there without their mamas. It’s hard to think about.

I think today was a big step of him turning himself over to me. What courage. How frightening to trust, to let go. I wondered if I would turn my heart over to someone I’d only met 2 ½ weeks previously, if I would be brave enough to trust. After he fell asleep I held him and cried. Cried for my Siyuan, and all his grief and losses. I cried for his other mamas. I believe they loved him, and did their best to care for him. I wondered if they missed him. And I cried for all the orphaned and neglected children who ache and long to be somebody’s ‘baobao’.