Becoming a Butterfly

Becca turned six last week. I watched her during the week of her 5^th birthday implode to some sad, dark place. It frightened me. She’s done so much healing this past year and I anxiously waited to see if her birthday week, which coincided with Chinese New Years, would take her back to that heartbreaking place she disappeared into last year. Her birthday came on the same day we had our Chinese New Years party, and yet she breezed through both, with smiles and twirls of joy.

She’s worked hard this year. We’ve been attending play therapy together for over a year. She’s been doing so well that I told the therapist, if we make it though her anniversary (Birthday and abandonment) without a major depressive set back, I think we’ll be done.

I know the play therapy has helped. We’ve done so many sessions that have allowed her to play out a lot of her trauma and anxiety. In our last session she had all the animal babies set up in the sand tray. Then the T-Rex came to gobble the babies up. The symbolism was not lost on me. But I nearly cried when she brought the Mommy and the Daddy kangaroo into the scene. They came and stood in front of the babies and kicked the T-Rex till he was dead. The T-Rex came back to life several times, but each time the Mommy & Daddy kangaroo kicked him over and over again, and I (acting as voice of the kangaroos) shouted at the T-Rex, “You can’t get our babies. We’ll keep them safe. You can try a thousand times but we will never let you hurt them”. She left the session feeling less heavy, and more joyful than I had ever seen her.

The other major shift in my Becca came this summer. We have friends from Hong Kong, Patrick & Maria Cheuk, who came with their three boys and lived with us for a month. They are lovely, warm, gracious people, and they are Chinese. After they had been with us for several weeks I was talking to Becca and in the course of the conversation made reference to the fact that Patrick was Chinese. Becca stopped me, “Patrick is Chinese?” “Yes sweetie, he is” “Patrick’s not Chinese” “Yes, he is”. As I thought about it I realized that she came to us with an intense fear of men, and whatever man instilled such fear and trembling in her, was Chinese and in her mind she equated that all Chinese men must be mean and loud and scary. Patrick is mild, soft spoken, gentle and tender. This experience with Patrick created a huge shift for Becca. In her play therapy, she never had allowed a father figure, or any other male to be part of the scenes she set up. She would carefully turn over each animal on the therapist’s shelf to check its gender before she would allow it to be included in her play. If it was male it was immediately rejected and returned to the shelf. In our play session after Patrick left she said of her scene, “I think I need a Dad”. It was all I could do not to cry. She had been home 3 ½ years, and finally was inviting a male person to enter her life. . Even though Becca’s Dad and Grandpa have been kind and loving and patient, it took a Chinese man to rewrite her belief system about men and allow her to open her heart to the men in her life.

And then Patrick’s wife Maria was so adorable to my Becca. They made dumplings and colored and talked and walked together. I could see Becca drinking her in. I can never be that Chinese woman that she looks at and sees herself all grown up. She and I make dumplings, but when I watched her make dumplings with Maria I realized what a loss for her, that she can never make dumplings with her Chinese mother and Aunts and grandmothers. She needed to spend unhurried time living and watching and absorbing this lovely Chinese woman into her self.

When Becca came to us she rejected everything Chinese. She refused to speak the language, and when we’d teach all the kids Chinese words, she refused to even try and say them. She was also very aloof when Chinese people would visit and refused to talk to them. She would often tell me how she hated her black hair, and how she wished she wasn’t Chinese. Her month of living with this family allowed her to finally accept her own Chinese-ness.

After they left she announced she was ready to learn Chinese. Since this past summer she has loved her black hair and she has embraced the many Chinese things we do in our family. I took her and my other girls to a Chinese dance performance over Chinese New Years. We sat in the balcony and watched hundreds of Chinese families streaming in, Grandparents and parents with their children, extended families and friends gathering together. I turned to her and said, “Becca, isn’t this SO fun to see all these Chinese families”. She turned to me and said, “Yeah, and I had to come with you guys”. After the first stab that went through my heart I realized two things, First, it was sad that she didn’t come to celebrate Chinese New years at this dance performance with her Chinese family, that she had to settle with sitting with a bunch of white people. And second, her acknowledgment that she wished she had come with a Chinese family was a reflection of her healing.

One of my favorite books on transracial adoption is Beyond Good Intentions” by Cheri Register. In her book Register teaches that “Your child is capable of loving you and still having intense feelings about those other parents off in the distance…This curiosity…doesn’t negate the value of your parenthood or diminish your importance in your child’s life. It’s not rejection, not disloyalty. It is not even about you.” pp. 18-19. Becca’s comment was a healthy acknowledgement of her losses, the loss of her Chinese family, the loss of belonging to a Chinese community, even the loss of being surrounded by people who looked like her. My heart ached for her losses, and after that first stab of pain I also recognized it was not about me.

The third part of her healing has been working through her anxieties about having to be perfect. I posted about her first day of kindergarten and her relief at not getting sent to the Principal’s office. But as school progressed I realized how anxious she was to be perfect so as not to get in trouble. I realized she feels this pressure to be perfect, compliant, to never create waves. But it came at such a great cost, she was anxious from the pressure, and she wasn’t honoring her own needs and feelings. I finally told her,

“Becca, you’re human. You’re going to make mistakes”

“No I won’t. I’m never going to make a mistake”

“Yes, you are. And it’s O.K. when you do. Mommy and Daddy will still love you, and you’ll learn from those mistakes.”

“Well, I’m not going to make any mistakes”

“I’ll make you a deal, if you’ll make a mistake, then you and Mommy are going to go on a date and we’ll go get some ice cream.”

“I’m still not going to ever make a mistake”

It took her four months before she slipped up. She was talking to her friend and her teacher wrote their names on the board. When I picked her up from kindergarten she was totally distraught.

“Hooray for Becca! You did it, you blew it, you made a mistake! Let’s go celebrate”

She got a mischievous grin on her face. Later that afternoon we went to Maggie Moo’s for ice cream.

“But I’m never going to get in trouble again”

“Oh, you better,” I said as I’m thinking, ‘I would never have this conversation with my other kids’

I used to tease that it took another gene pool to get a neat and tidy child. Becca was my only child who would keep her room immaculately clean. Everything was in its place, and if one thing was dropped or left out, she’d put it away. Today her room is a total and utter disaster. The more my Becca has healed, the more chaotic her room has become. I hope that means my other children are healthy. Does that mean that my messy house means that I’m healthy too?

She has also been so sweet and compliant. Now she’ll talk back, throw a fit, scream that she hates me. I never would have guessed I’d be glad about such behaviors. But I realize they’re healthy, she’s finally expressing herself in authentic ways. But as she has, I have also seen more of her authentic self, more joy, and more genuine happiness.

I know there will still be times when Becca will have to grieve her losses, and process her grief. She’ll have struggles, but right now I’m seeing her healthy genuine self, her giggly dancing, singing happy self, emerge from the stress and anxiety she’s carried through her young life. I believe that she will emerge stronger, and with a greater depth of character. Watching her journey has been heartbreaking, but I feel such joy to watch how she’s emerging with such strength. Maya Angelou has said,

"We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes that it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” ~Maya Angelou

Becca is my beautiful butterfly. I feel privileged to share her journey through life.

Seth-One Year Later

We've had our Seth for over a year. It's been a hard year, somedays I wondered if we'd make it. I have felt physically and emotionally stretched and exhausted. But looking back we've had many successes.

We have created an attachment. I believe he has attached to me. He is affectionate, loving, accepting of my love, seeks out snuggles and hugs.

He also is accepting of limits. His behavior isn't always perfect (what kid's is?) but he accepts limits and correction without additional testing or tantrums. This is also a sign of his attachment that he looks to his parents and accepts their boundaries.

He still struggles at times with being over stimulated. He struggles with too much noise or activities, but even that is coming along.

He's moved from spending most of his time on the blanket to having boundaries like-the family room, the sandbox, or the backyard sidewalk.


We're starting to see some authentic emotions. Horseback therapy has really helped with that.

He's empathetic and learning to give and take with his relationships. He calls his brothers and sisters his friends. He's always asking, "When are my friends coming home?" He still delights in button pushing, especially his brothers'. But he's interacting with his 'friends' and they are the most important people in his life.

He is extremely intelligent and has grasped not only language, but many complex thinking processes.

And through it all, he is still happy, enthusiastic about life, elated with every new experience and person to meet. He throws himself at life with enthusiasm and passion. He has lost so much, and suffered much but still his joy has carried him forward.

The journey this year has been hard, stretching us beyond our capacities, but as we snuggle and giggle and he meets my eyes without resistance, and with love I can't imagine a greater reward.

"I Didn't Get Sent to the Principal's Office"

Friday August 27^th, 2009

Becca started Kindergarten yesterday. She had been so excited, but as I walked her into the classroom and helped her find her desk I could see fear and panic rest in her eyes. I had worried about this transition for over a year. My Becca is such a tender, gentle soul, and new situations frighten her. She has had too many frightening and heartbreaking transitions in her life. I gave her a “You’ll do great” with a hug and a smile. I knew this would be a test as to how far we’d come, and if she was strong enough to take this step into the next phase of her life.

I worried and wondered how she was during the long three hours. I arrived early, anxious to look into her eyes for the truth about her day. She walked out with a huge grin and sparkly eyes. With relief, I wrapped her in my arms and twirled her around. “How was your first day Becca?” “So Great! I didn’t get sent to the Principal’s office!” I was taken back. I had tried to anticipate her fears about kindergarten and talk through them, but I hadn’t included that on my list. Of all my seven children, I would vote my quiet, timid Becca the least likely to ever end up in the Principal’s office. “Becca were you worried about going to the Principal’s office?” She looked embarrassed and shook her head no, but I could tell the answer was otherwise. We met her friend Lacy coming out of her class. She faced her and intently asked, “Lacy, did you get sent to the Principal’s office?” Lacy looked confused, “No.” “Boy, we were both so lucky! Neither one of us got sent to the Principal’s office!” Then she prattled on about how much she loves her teacher, and the new friend she made, and how fun Kindergarten was going to be. As I dropped her off today for her second day I could see from her eyes, she was ready.

This fragile little girl, who came to us with that ‘deer in the headlights’ look in her eyes, has grown strong, and now she is ready to leave the safety and predictability of Mom, and home to start this next phase of her life. Several Moms have asked if I’m sad to have her go. One part of me is sad, I’ll miss having her all mine, but I also feel joy to see how much her heart has healed, and the strength she has found so that she can move forward in her life.

Chapters Close, Chapters Open

Saturday August 28, 2009

It’s 10:50 p.m., 50 minutes past my bedtime but instead of drifting off to sleep in my cozy pajamas I’m sitting at my computer listening to sounds from the teenage party in my basement drift up from below. Someone is playing the Pink Panther on my 100 year old, slightly tinny piano, while someone else, with no musical ability at all, is sitting next to the Pink Panther pianist and plunking the top keys without any rhythm or melody. I hear the steady back and forth of the ping pong ball underneath the more intense and electronic sound of the pinball machine. The strumming of a guitar is mixed with teenagers talking. It’s a back to school party, the first party Alex (14 ½) has hosted in our ‘made for teenage parties’ basement. Just two weeks previously Nicole hosted her farewell party with many of her high school friends, before they left for various colleges and jobs and missions.

I remembered how awkward her first basement parties were, and how Derek would come in and out suggesting games and activities to help move them past the awkwardness of young teenagers. I watched how Derek played that role again tonight at Alex's party.

And yet I contrasted those first awkward parties, with Nicole’s farewell party two weeks previously. I had asked her what activities she had planned. “None. We just want to be together. I’ll see friends here and there after this, but we’ll probably not all get together again." They had spent so many happy teenage moments together, and now that chapter was closing.

I took Nicole up weekend before last, to start her life at University. She couldn’t leave home fast enough, and I remember being 18 and feeling that same urgency to try life on my own. Derek asked me the night before she left, "Is she ready?" "Yes" I answered with confidence. She's such an amazing young women, mature, level headed and solid in knowing who she is. I know there will be life's lesson to be learned, and wisdom to be gained, but we feel like she has everything she needs to succeed. I feel confident in launching her off into the world. She went to school with her good friend who will now be her roommate. They are going to have an amazing time.

She has spent the last year working with children who are emotionally disturbed, most of whom have attachment disorders. She has loved it so much and so has decided to major in special education. She has such a gift and patience to work with these children. I feel that God has been putting forth experiences to prepare her for life. I can't wait to watch her life unfold.

I thought I’d include a few pictures of her at her new dorm.

Before Move In


"Well, we've got in all in here, just not sure where we're gonna sleep"



"Now we're feeling a bit more settled"

"You mean six girls gotta share this bathroom?!"

Dobson "Daily" is a misnomer

I've decided that "Dobson Daily" is a gross misnomer for this blog. I should have called this the Dobson annual, or something less ambitious than the Dobson Daily. It's been so long since I've posted, not that life has gone awry, but only that the craziness of a family of nine, often crowds out all but the most essential of activities. (And even then sometimes laundry and dishes doesn't even make it into the daily 'to do' list. So I'm back blogging for the moment, but with no promises about posting "Daily" or even annually.

Becca's Fifth Birthday: The Journey is the Reward

The week of Becca's fifth birthday was a hard one. I decided to share some of my journal entries from the past couple of weeks. Before I adopted Becca and Seth, I couldn't imagine the load that my children would carry. I hope by sharing you can come to know a bit about the heart of a wounded child. I know many of you share my privilege of working to heal the hearts of these amazing children. The Journey is the Reward.

Thursday February 5^th, 2009

It started last Saturday. Becca seemed fine while we were setting up for the Chinese New Years celebration, but once it started she wasn’t herself. When Annie (our neighbor and dear friend who is a year younger than her) came and gave her a big hug, she turned away, refusing to make any eye contact.

Becca went to church Sunday morning but seemed a bit quiet. By the time we left she had a low grade fever. Her eyes looked dark and pained. Sunday afternoon we went to Logan so we could tour Utah State on Monday with Nikki. All Sunday Becca was quiet and clingy.

I spent Monday touring with Nicole. Derek took the kids. Becca was lethargic and looked miserable. Gregory, trying out his new vocabulary word for the weekend, said to her, “Becca, what’s wrong. You look constipated.” I scolded him, but he was right, her face looked like she was in pain, not acute pain, but dull, persistent, relentless pain. Whenever she was with me, I carried her. She was limp. Other than her fever she didn’t have any symptoms.

We returned home Monday night. Tuesday Becca woke up with the fever, and a bit of a cold, but nothing proportionate to how lethargic she was. I debated about taking her to her play therapy appointment with Susan, but decided she didn’t really have any acute sickness going on.

Usually at Susan’s she walks right in and gets to work, ‘playing’. She looked at all the toys for a long time, and then came and sat by me. After a while Susan said, “Becca, usually you like me to get out the sand for you to play. Would you like to play in it today?” Becca nodded her head. She got it out. Becca slowly got out the princesses (her usual) and put them in the sandbox, but then she just sat there. She looked at the ground, sometimes glancing at me or Susan, but she wouldn’t play. For 10 minutes she just sat there. “I think she’s anxious, She’s not been feeling well.” I said to Susan. “Actually, she doesn’t look at all anxious. She looks depressed.”

“Have you heard of anniversary syndrome?” Susan asked me. I had heard of it, but listened while she explained it again. “Often when a traumatic event occurs, on the anniversary of the event a person will go into a sort of funk. It’s like depression, only it usually lasts a week and then they’re fine. Even children who have no concept of time manifest this funk around the time of a trauma anniversary. They’ve done studies on Prisoners of War who are locked in cells without light and have no concept of the passage of time, and they too with remarkable accuracy exhibit this anniversary syndrome. Does Becca have any anniversaries coming up?” I was disappointed I hadn’t put this together myself. I should have known. “Her birthday is in three days, she was abandoned a few days afterwards.” “I think this is definitely what Becca is exhibiting. It shouldn’t last much more than a week.”

Becca was worse on Wednesday. Her eyes looked dark, withdrawn and sunken. She wanted me to hold her, which I did as much as I could. When I wasn’t she just sat on the couch, staring at nothing. She didn't talk, she didn't play. She would drift off to sleep for brief parts of time. She still had a bit of sniffles and a fever, but nothing else. Depressed, severely depressed, is exactly how she felt to me.

This morning (Thursday) she slept until 9:00 and came out looking horrible again. I held her for a long time, trying to keep Seth regulated and trying not to stress about the deteriorating state of my house over the past week. I have been writing a Children’s book about a little lady-bug who loses her ladybug mama and then is adopted by a Big Brown Beetle. It’s Becca’s story, but though I’ve sung her the song that goes with it, I hadn’t read her the story yet. I got it out and we read through. She was quiet, but I could tell she was intensely absorbing the story. At the end I had her cradled like a baby, and she looked ready to cry. “Becca, did that story make you feel sad?” She nodded her head. "What part makes you feel sad?" “The part ‘bout missing my China mommy”. “Do you miss your China mommy?” “Yes” “It’s sad you lost your China Mommy. It’s sad you don’t even know what she looks like. You lost a lot of things when you were a baby.” “She nodded quietly with her dark sunken eyes.

I remembered back to when we went to Becca’s orphanage right after we had adopted her. We were just finishing up our tour of the orphanage when I looked over and saw a dirty tiny bundle laying all by itself in the corner. Here’s part of my entry.

Sunday December 11^th, 2005.

I saw in the far corner a tiny bundle of dirty blankets. I was curious. The other children we saw were all clean. I walked over and there was a tiny baby, probably only 5 lbs, and her skin was dry and somewhat shriveled. She didn’t even respond to me picking her up. Her eyes were open but she didn’t attempt to look at my face. She was completely listless. The director came over and casually said, (It was his casualness that stabbed so deep), “Oh she was just abandoned this morning. She was so dehydrated we had to take her right to the hospital and put an IV in her.” Inside I silently shouted, “And why, why when she has been through the trauma of being abandoned, and the trauma of the hospital have you too, just abandoned her to a corner of this room. Why isn’t someone holding her? She’s been through so much!!! How can you leave her in the corner in these dirty rags all alone, she’s already SO ALONE!!! Can’t somebody pick her up and love her, just for a moment?”. Instead I just smiled and acted like this was the most ordinary thing in the world, to find a baby listless and abandoned laying in the corner of the room. Of course it’s routine to them, there’s one or two EVERY WEEK! This was my Becca-WanWan almost two years before. Was she also this dirty? I know she was wrapped in a towel. Somehow holding this baby brought to me the reality of my Becca’s beginnings, and thousands of baby girls, and disabled children all over China. Every week, this happens over and over and over again. . I couldn’t hold back any more. I took her to the corner and cried for just a minute. They wanted us to leave, Derek went with Becca upstairs, but I had to stay and hold and rock this baby for a few more minutes. She’d been abandoned by her family, by society by the orphanage. I couldn’t just walk away! I talked and loved with all the strength I could send from my mother heart. “Live, baby, live! Live and grow strong so you can find your forever family.”

Was this where my Becca had gone these past few days? Was she feeling all the despair and terror and utter aloneness of that first week of her life? I felt sick remembering how that baby looked and felt. It’s hard to fathom a child so young can carry such a heavy load, that they can know how utterly unwanted, abandoned and alone they are. But they know. I saw it in the eyes of that baby in the orphanage. I saw it in the eyes of my Becca.

I’ve noticed Becca seems withdrawn and melancholy around her birthday, but I’ve never seen her this severe. I’m guessing it’s because I’ve started her in play therapy which has brought everything closer to the surface. Cognitively, I know it’s not going to go away without processing it, she’s gotta get all the yuck out of there, but it’s heart breaking. She’s been running a fever since Saturday night, but doesn’t have any other symptoms except a few little sniffles. My Becca is so buried, reliving her moments of private hell. I’m really worried.

Friday, February 6^th

It’s Becca’s birthday today. She woke up screaming and spent much of the day screaming or sleeping. I was relieved. Screaming was better than her disappearance into some dark abyss. I told her to put on her shoes so we could go to Seth’s speech therapy. She began screaming this high loud shrieking. This isn’t screaming like throwing a temper-tantrum screaming. This is anger and loss and terror all rolled into a horrible sound, the sound of things feared and things lost. I’ve never heard this kind of screaming/crying in my biological children. I put her in the car and told her what a great job she was doing getting all her ‘mads’ and ‘sads’ and ‘scareds’ out. “Get it all out sweetie. You have a lot to be upset about. Scream and scream and scream and scream it out.” I was surprised by its intensity and length. My Becca is so soft spoken and sweet. A very gentle, meek little soul, I couldn’t believe how much was in there. When we arrived at the school there didn’t seem to be any end to the screaming and she was going full force even as we walked in the door. “Sweetie, schools are not for screaming. Children are trying to learn. You’ll need to stop, and then when we’re done with Seth’s therapy you can scream again for as long as you need.” She stopped during speech, and just let me rock her while Seth worked with the speech therapist. As soon as we walked out of the door, the screaming recommenced. I was amazed but relieved to hear so much coming. The only way out is through. We came home and at 10:30 a.m. she went to her room and fell asleep for several hours. She’s hardly eaten anything this entire week. Because it’s her birthday she got to pick what she wanted for breakfast and lunch. She picked Belgium waffles for breakfast, but then didn’t even eat a single bite. She wanted a Cheese quesadilla for lunch but only took a nibble.

I had originally planned a big party for her this afternoon but never sent out invitations because she was in such a bad place. The afternoon alternated between screaming, and quiet retreat into her dark place. We have a tradition of taking our children out by themselves with Mom and Dad on their birthday. I had asked her previously where she wanted to go and she told me she wanted to go to the Chinese dumpling restaurant. However, I had decided we would do a quiet dinner in because she was in such a bad place. Around 3:00 I asked her what she wanted me to cook for her. “I want to go to the dumpling restaurant” “Sweetie, I don’t think you’re feeling up to going out” She began screaming again. Normally I do not give in to screaming, but I agreed that since it was her birthday we would take her there, if that’s what she really wanted. She was pretty lethargic and I took her temperature right before we went in. It was 102. Still no other symptoms than some sniffles. She was pretty quiet during dinner, but didn’t look so withdrawn. She even let Derek tease her and she giggled a bit. She ate three dumplings and I was elated. She then asked if she could go watch the Chinese lady making dumplings at the back (our usual). She and I went back and watched this middle-aged woman rolling out the dough and filling each dumpling. While we watched I could feel her shifting. I could feel the heaviness start to lift. By the time we got back in the car I took her temperature and it was down to 99. We went home and opened some presents and had cake with the kids. She seemed pretty wiped out but not so withdrawn. It’s been 7 days. I hope tomorrow will bring the end. I can’t bear to watch her go through another day of this.

Saturday February 7^th, 2009

I was in the kitchen cooking breakfast when I heard Becca singing. She normally is always singing some little song but this was the first time I had heard her sing in a week. She came in all smiles and giggles, dancing and twirling. After not seeing her play all week long, I was grinning to see her with a handful of polly pocket princesses. And that is that. She’s completely and totally back to the sweet, giggly, happy little girl she was a week ago. I’m amazed. I ache for the journey she had to go on this week. I hope she didn’t feel as alone as she did five years ago. I never would have imagined the load of loss that is carried by my sweet little babies. I hope that sharing the load, makes it more bearable. Even sharing their loads in the tiniest ways that I do, is a privilege. I am inspired and enriched by sharing their journey. The Journey is the Reward.

(one week later) Friday February 13^th

Today we had Becca’s 5^th Birthday party. What a joy it was. Four little Princesses making crowns and kissing frogs. I felt sad Annie couldn’t come. Her birthday is one day after Becca’s. She’s is the middle of her own Anniversary Yuck. But the party princesses pranced and paraded and whispered and giggled with pure joy and delight. A heart healed, at least for the day, or maybe for the year. The Journey is the Reward.

Happy Chinese New Year!

It was Chinese New Year's last week. We held our annual celebration with 110 people, families with Chinese Children. We eat Chinese food, do Chinese cultural crafts & calligraphy, hold a Lion Dance parade and light fireworks. This is our 3rd. The kids look forward to it and it's lots of fun. I feel it's so important for our family to celebrate and honor the Chinese Culture which has now become part of our family culture. I think it's also very validating for our family to see other bi-racial families that look like them. A big thanks to my patient husband who spent an entire day with me dragging kids around Guangzhou looking for more Chinese decorations. The big lanterns, and two Lion Heads were our reward, though proved a bigger challenge trying to get them home. Sorry the pictures are a little crazy. I can't quite figure out how to lay them out nicely in blogger.