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.

Seth's 3rd Birthday (3 months belated)

I was so overwhelmed with life when it was Seth's birthday that I never did blog, but I did write in my journal that day. I decided to revisit that day and post it.

It was Becca's birthday yesterday. Birthdays for adoptees are always very complex. A birthday is a reminder that you didn't start out with this family you have now, and that somewhere you have another family. I try to always take time on my adopted childrens' birthdays to acknowledge and honor their birth family. Alex's 14th birthday was sweet this year, because we've been able to reconnect with his Birth Mom and family. Yesterday as Becca and I were talking about her "China Birth Family" (I hope to share with you about Becca and how difficult this week has been for her) I felt I should go back and share my journal entry about Seth's China-Mommy here on the blog.

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Friday November 7^th, 2008

Today is our Seth’s birthday. He is 3 and it is his first birthday with us. I feel so much joy that we have him, that he is ours, for his zest for life, the way he’s thrown his arms wide open to embrace everything new that is thrown at him. But I also feel overwhelmed today with sadness for his birth family. They will never know his smile, his enthusiasm, and even more that they have no idea where he is, if he is warm, if he is safe, if he is even alive.

This morning I’ve been thinking about Siyuan’s birthmom. Who is she? Is she thinking of him as she goes through her day? Is she working in a factory making household items that may someday land in my home. Is she working the fields on a small family farm growing vegetable to sell in the market where she shops alone, childless, empty and aching. Has she given birth a again? Does she now have the perfect son, or has she settled for a daughter. Perhaps she is teaching a kindergarten class their first English words as her heart struggles with loss and regret, not knowing his English has surpassed hers.

I can’t begin to imagine the cruelty of a culture and political system where mother’s must choose, for the good of the family, to abandon their baby, because that baby had the misfortune to be born female, or with some other seeming imperfection. Usually babies are abandoned within a day of their birth, but my Siyuan was 5 days old before his mother found the strength to leave him, to walk away forever. I imagine her inner struggle, knowing that in this country, a son without a hand would never be allowed to work and could never support his aging parents, let alone care for a family of his own. But that didn’t mean she didn’t adore his round cheeks and thick black hair.

I feel angry at the injustice, at the prejudice, perhaps she does too. But nonetheless, she didn’t have choices, not any. All she could do was hold on to him, for one more day, and then another while her heart shattered, refusing to put itself back together. And then she wrapped him up and left him at an apartment complex. Was it hers, did she live there, did she watch from her kitchen window over the courtyard until a kind man took her son away? Did she watch that spot for days, wishing her Siyuan would somehow reappear, so she could snatch him up and take him home. Does she still walk past the spot on her way home from work and feel the emptiness of it?

I imagine the ‘not knowing’ is the worst. I picture her today wondering, “Where is my son? What does he look like now that he’s three? Does he have my eyes or my husbands face? Are people at the orphanage kind or cruel? Does anyone notice when he cries, or has he stopped crying altogether? Or was life so hard, without a hand and without a Mom that he gave up on life altogether?

Most Chinese find it difficult to imagine why a family would adopt a child with a disability like Siyuan’s. Everywhere we went in China people were shocked and perplexed as to why we would want him if he didn’t have a hand. I’m sure it has never crossed his China Mom’s mind, that anyone else would want this son that she wanted, but couldn’t keep. I wish she could peak at his life now. I wish she could see him riding in the jeep around the backyard with Gregory laughing with exultation. I wish she could see how six brothers and sisters delight in this little boy of hers, celebrating his every victory. I wish she would see him cradled in my arms, listening to a lullaby and stroking my cheek. I wish she knew how intelligent he is, imitating everyone, their movements, their speech, absorbing everything about his new life in America. I wish she could see how thrilled he is with the word ‘mine’ and to realize there are things in his life that belong to him, and him alone; His pajamas, his crocs which he must sleep and bathe with, his truck. When she wonders and worries if he’s warm as winter encroaches, I wish she could see him in his crib next to me, wearing his red striped feet pajamas, cuddled up with his flannel cowboy blanket fingering the edges as he drifts into a peaceful slumber. I wish she could see the pure thrill and enthusiasm he has to take a shower, letting the water him full force in the face while he laughs in delight. When she worries about how he’s faring without his hand, I wish she could hear his big brother Gregory tell his friends, “You gotta see Seth’s little arm. It’s RAD!” I wish she could see how uses it to eat, and build toys, and put on his favorite crocs. I wish she could see how I kiss that little arm a hundred times a day because it is so precious to me.

I am grateful to her, for my son. I wonder if his joy and wonder, and enthusiastic embracing of life came from her. I hope losing him, didn’t maim thatjoy in her. But his life, and his joy brings new life and joy to my life and into our family. Four months ago I met my Siyuan, nervous, not knowing who he was, how he’d accept us. But now he’s been mine, and I couldn’t bear to lose him. My life is richer, fuller, more joyful because he is part of it. And so today I honor and remember his China-Mom, and give thanks to God for bringing me my little Seth-Siyuan.

Looking Back...

(Seth with his beloved 'Crocs')

January 25^th, 2009

I can’t believe it’s been four months since I posted. We had finish work (doors, trim and shelves) done in our basement several months ago. In between managing my Seth-a-roo I’ve been trying to get everything painted, and kids moved out and then back into their rooms and closets. Thus, blogging has come to a halt. I must confess I miss it. There’s something therapeutic about writing and sharing.

(This picture above is my favorite of my painting projects. This was a cracked, dented, beat-to-heck dresser that belonged to Derek when he was a kid. Becca needed a dresser and of course wanted pink. I think it turned out quite remarkable)

Many of you have asked how Seth is doing. Seth is making remarkable progress. Sometimes the day to day keeping him regulated and having him test me wears me down and I feel discouraged. The first part of January was particularly discouraging. There’s a rough estimate thrown out by who-knows-who that children coming from China need about 2 months per every year old they are to adjust and settle into their new life. This estimate proved accurate for Becca. Even though I still see progress as she feels more secure, at six months, she was pretty attached and regulated. Life began to return to some normalcy.

When we adopted Seth I estimated his time at around six months and figured by January 1, 2009 he would be adjusted, settled and we’d be back to normal life. So when January 1^st rolled around and I could see we were no where near ready to turn Seth over to a ‘normal’ three year old lifestyle I felt pretty discouraged. 2009 loomed large and long, knowing I would have at least another year of helping Seth heal his heart and brain. My 50 yard Sprint, had evolved into a marathon of undetermined length. I had a few days of a personal pity party, cried some tears, and then put my running shoes back on.

On one of my ‘pity party’ days my sister, Julie, shared with me a story my Dad had shared with her.

I grew up in Murray Utah. Across the valley and straight East of where we lived was Mount Olympu. I had looked at it with awe many times. One summer, when I was a boy around 13 or 14 yeasr old I thought, “It would sure be cool to hike to the top of that mountain.” So I, along with 2 or 3 of my friends, hopped on our bikes and headed East on 62^nd South. It took a long time to cross the valley and get to the base of the mountain. We were hot and sweaty before we even parked our bikes and began to hike. We hiked and hiked, making our way through the brush. After an hour I could see the top of the mountain. “Wow, we’re almost there!”. We picked up our pace and pushed to the top. My legs felt like rubber as I came up over the top of the ridge. But we had not reached the top. I could now see five or six more ridge. The whole mountain still lay ahead of us. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. I had failed in my quest. Then one of the other guys said, “Look!” I turned around and there was the whole Salt Lake valley layed out before us. I hadn’t been able to see it before for all the brush. When I saw how far we had come my discouragement, and sense of failure and frustration were chased away by the realization of “We did something amazing!”

This story inspired me to shift my vision. Rather than seeing the whole mountain looming ahead, and feeling my legs rubbery and ready to collapse, I look back and see how far we have come together, my Seth and I. We have both worked hard. When I look at it from that perspective, with the valley below, the distance we’ve come is amazing.

Six months ago Seth couldn’t bear to be touched. “Ow, ow” he would say when I tried to stroke his cheek or snuggle him on my lap. Eye contact was too hard, and he couldn’t bear more than a fleeting glimpse into my eyes. We’ve moved from pushing away at any contact, to rocking together, and just this week we’ve moved to ‘baby snuggles’ in bed. Tonight I cradled him again in the crook of my shoulder, and held him snuggled against my chest. His entire body was pressed against mine, cradled, close, intimate. For twenty minutes he looked into my eyes while I sang him silly songs and lullabies. I stroked his cheek and his hair and he kissed my eyes and my nose. Then for the first time ever he fell asleep in my arms. It was so sweet that I couldn't bear to put him in his crib and I fell asleep too. His heart is healing. How brave of him to let go of fear, and embrace love.

Six months ago Seth couldn’t sit still and focus on any activity. This week I pulled out some 25 piece puzzles. He can put them together faster than I can. We still have half the mountain to climb, but when I watch him build legos, and play “people house’ with Becca, I’m amazed.

Six months ago, he didn’t trust anyone but himself to meet his needs. He’s gone from greedily eating whatever we gave him, to actually being picky and refusing food. He’s learned to trust that we will always have food. Being choosy about his food is now a luxury he feels he can afford.

At first he didn’t notice or care if Mom was even there. He’s learned over these six months that, “Mama always comes back” and he’s glad about that.

He’s learned what it means to belong to a family. Tonight we sang our ritual, “I love Daddy he loves me, We love Mommy yes siree, We all love Seth and so you see, We are a Happy Family.” We progress through each family member until we’ve covered his family. “Seth’s family” he loves to say over and over again. He’s learned the joy of being adored and spoiled by grandparents. He is becoming connected and it feels good to his heart.

A child cannot trust someone they can control. If a child believes he is stronger than the adult, then he cannot trust the adult to keep him safe. So children must test to see who is stronger. A normal child will test a limit 17 times, a stubborn child, maybe 47 times. But a wounded child like Seth must test the limit 147 times, often more. But he’s slowly learning that Mom and Dad are stronger and more powerful than he is. We are the boss, we are in control, and his limits are not going to change, no matter how he wears us down with his manipulation, or persistence. He is beginning to feel safe. He is beginning to let go a little bit of his control. We’ve made it to the first ridge. The rest of the mountain looks daunting, but we will press forward. His will and determination is strong, he is a survivor, but he is learning that we will always be stronger than him, therefore, we have the ability to keep him safe.

I think our biggest challenge with Seth right now is healing his brain. When a child lives in an impoverished environment such as an orphanage, and when their needs aren’t met, their brain kicks into survival mode. The base of the brain is where our most primal survival responses are executed. These are usually manifest into fight, flight or freeze mode. If we were to look at a scan of the activity in Seth’s brain when we first adopted him, the majority of the activity would be located in this primal, survival part of the brain. His brain spent so much time in this part, that most of his neuro-pathways have been wired in that primal part of the brain. A brain scan of an emotionally healthy child shows most of their brain activity occurring in the frontal lobes. Luckily, brains can be healed, neuro-pathways forged. Our goal is to shift more of Seth’s brain activity into the frontal, problem solving, higher reasoning areas of the brain. We are actually working to rewire his brain, creating new neuro-pathways into the frontal lobes.

With the therapeutic process we’re using he must first learn to self-regulate and stay in a designated, defined area. He has an area in my kitchen, marked by blue tape about 4x6 feet. He also has a blanket I put in the family room that he has to stay on. We’ve been working to help him stay and play in his ‘box’ for 20-30 minute segments of time.

After Christmas I was struggling to get him to stay in his area. He would get off, and I would walk him back on. If he repeated leaving the area then I’d hold him until he was ready to stay. Then we’d try again, and again and again. I became frustrated, unable to get anything done. One morning my sister Julie, seeing how Seth was testing, testing, testing came over ready to work. “Let’s go get some lumber and build Seth a box he can’t get out of.” She was so generous and wanting to help. But the point is not containment, he purpose is for him to learn to regulate himself. External limits and controls are only temporary. He has to move out of fight/flight mode and learn self-control and self-regulation. He’s learning. He’s doing much better at staying in his confined space.

The reason the confined space is important is because it cuts down on too much external stimulus. If his brain has too much stimulus he’s having to worry about controlling everything around him. He’s in that primal part of his brain and his brain can’t shift to the higher frontal lobes. On the blanket or in his box he can let go of that and focus on his activities. The activities we’re having him do are ones that will create new neuro-pathways in those logic and reasoning parts of the brains. And what therapeutic activities would those be? Building toys play a big part. He plays blocks, legso, Lincoln logs, tinker toys, K-nex & Gears. He also plays playdough, strings beads and does puzzles. All of these require higher brain function and problem solving. As he does these activities he is more calm, accepting of limits, and doesn’t need to control everything around him. His play is working new pathways into his brain. Six months ago he struggled to do peg puzzles. Now he can whip out a 25 piece puzzle like you can’t believe. New pathways are being created. Looking back it’s hard to believe how hard he’s worked and how much his brain is healing. Much of the therapeutic parenting I do for Seth is beneficial to building healthy brains in all children.

And, as I think I mentioned before, all these limits have to be maintained with loving eyes and voice. Anger, frustration drives the brain back into fight/flight mode. This is hard, because I can be a screamer Mom. I wish I had learned all this seven kids ago, it really is a great way to parent.

Here is a couple of pictures of Seth. Jumping on the tramp is a great activity to help get the brain moving out of the back part and into the frontal lobes. Another activity is what’s called, “Strong Sitting”. It’s a meditative pose used in various religions. It actually opens up the spine and stimulates the limbic (feel good) part of the brain. In this picture Seth was a bit resistant to ‘strong sitting’ so Becca was ‘teaching’ him how to do it.

So that is definitely the long version of how Seth is doing. We are both doing well. He is growing more and more attached. He is sweet and loving, and fun loving with a laugh that makes all the work worth it. I' m so grateful to my mentor and friend Melissa, who buoys me up and has taught me so much. And mostly I'm grateful to my Heavenly Father who has 'given me strength beyond my own." I know he knows me. I knows he knows Seth. He loves us both and is giving us the courage and strength to make this journey together. We know there is still a long hike ahead, but when we look back, we realize the view from up here is amazing!

Together Forever!

Saturday was one of those days that we will never forget. We are of the LDS faith and we believe that families can be together forever, even after death. We have a special ceremony that we hold in our temples that symbolically binds us together as a family. We call it a 'sealing'. We are sealed or joined together. This Saturday our family went together to a temple near our home and Seth was sealed, joined into our family forever.

We all wear white as a symbol of heaven and of purity. I felt so much joy to have all of my children gathered together. We had friends and family who came to share in our celebratory moment. I hope you love my pictures of my children as much as I do!