4-7-16

Well another day has gone by, and it is clearer than ever that Kristi should be here with me.  I miss my family; I miss Ana, and it is so hard to here that she called Daddy in her sleep two nights ago, and to see her get so excited about skype even though she usually couldn’t care less about it.  I miss Jack and the fact that this is the week that he started to smile, which is such big payoff for the lack of sleep for the past few weeks.  And it feels so weird bonding with N in an environment without them; in a way, I feel like I’m cheating on them.  Most of all I miss, and need, Kristi.  N needs a family, not just a daddy; he needs a mama who can tell dad when N is tired and needs to take a rest, or who will make the boys sit and relax a little bit.  I want so badly for N to attach to us as a unit, and not just one or the other.  But, in a few months, we will get our wish!

Today, I got to feed N.  There was just one problem; we were not alone.  So, as I sat with the other little children at the little lunch tables, I felt a series of punches in my gut as each one stared straight into my soul from their tiny plastic lawn chairs. Some would smile as I waved and cheered, others would just continue to stare as if I had done nothing, and others, mostly the older ones, began to change their faces into rock hard defenses, knowing that I was not coming for them.  And N, seeing my interaction with the other kids, immediately started acting distressed and hurt-why was this guy who kept calling himself my daddy leaving me to talk with the other kids? he was thinking.  So, even though a part of me felt terrible, I picked up N from the table and began to play with him away from the other children, yet in plain view of them.  Though I knew it, I have never felt the unfairness of this world more than in that moment.  Why, with so many families able to adopt in the world, are these cute, chubby cheeked, lonely kids still here??  Shouldn’t it be us fighting over them?  Not them fighting to get a family. 

God wanted us so much to be in His family that He gave His Son as a sacrifice for us.  We didn’t even want to be in His family, but He fought, and is fighting, for us.  Our good news is that He defeated death, and we all live forever.  Jesus’s righteousness covers me, and I can have a relationship with the perfect Father.  You are an orphan in need of an eternal family.  He has room for all of us; my arms are big enough to hold N only, but His arms are wide enough on the cross to hold us all.

4-6-16

There’s not a lot to say today about what I did with N that has not already been said (except for my favorite part, see the end for the spoiler). So maybe we can dive into his mind a little, and this untrained father will just give his reactions to it.  I read a book about a man who, from childhood, built a large mansion, and added to it every day.  However, this mansion was not brick and mortar or wood and nails, but its walls were made of memory and feelings.  There were rooms for languages, art, math and science, family members, friends, feelings for eating, feelings for childhood, feelings for love, and feelings not so positive.  When he wanted to dig into math, he could open the math room on the second floor and find the book on Calculus, or if he saw an art piece that stimulated him, he could hang it in his art gallery, or if he experienced a feeling he never wanted to feel again, he could lock it in the dungeon.  N doesn’t have a house like this, but he has a tent. The tent is mobile and adaptive, so it can be set up whenever and wherever he is.  The tent is not elaborate, but is very clean, as most of the memories and feelings are lumped together in a sack right outside of the tent.  The sack can be visited and an item removed, one at a time, as long as it doesn’t cause any negative feelings or invasion of safety. 

Now, I am here.  When I peek-a-boo into his eyes too soon, the tent goes up and his eyes divert to the blank tapestry as he leaves this unsafe person outside.  When I offer items, they are quickly moved to the sack of things unless they have soothing value.  Barging into the tent just causes N to break camp and set up farther away than before.  So how can I draw him out?  #1, I can guard the tent.  When I am no longer an invader, but a protector, I become part of the tent’s mechanism.  When N decides to add new items to the sack or get items from the sack outside, I am there to hand them to him and to protect him on his way.  #2, I can have a party by myself with neon lights and music. As long as the party doesn’t pose a threat, such a thing can bait N into leaving the safety of his tent, if for nothing else, to take a look at what’s going on, or even to participate.  I would love for N’s tent to grow into a large house with a big yard and room for family, friends, and good memories, but Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither our are minds.

“Barzo, barzo, barzo!” (quickly, quickly, quickly) I yelled, running up the stairs to the slide platform, with N in my arms.  “Now, bavno…bavno…bavno,” (slowly, slowly, slowly) I whisper, taking long, slow steps to the edge of the slide.  “Edno, dve, triiiiiiii!!!” as we go down the slide, every time garnishing a look from N for a few seconds, checking out my face in the light of the sun, out of his tent.  His beard is furry, and his teeth are big, but that was fun, I think!  His eyes say it all.  “Vizh!” (look),  I stressed, “Lulkata! Ayde, (come on) Ayde!”  But it was too much, and with the other kids watching and waving and taking the guard’s attention away from the tent, N started to build his tent elsewhere, in a safer location.  But before he left, he actually rolled the toy car we had, back and forth, playing with it, not just exploring, but playing. 

I helped him pitch his tent on a big swing made for two or more, and I “Shhh’d” him like I have Shhh’d my two babies at home so many times before.  And after 10 minutes that seemed like 2, N was almost asleep.  “Leke Nosht,” (nighty night), sweet, little N. 

As a side note, I don’t say Leke Nosht to taxi drivers anymore.  No two grown men should say “Nighty night” to each other!!

4-5-16

*written by Ry in country

Getting lost is typically a great way to see somewhere that you have never been, but it is not ideal when you have a schedule to keep to.  I went running this morning to try to get a breath of crisp air and enjoy the sun and hopefully run by a church or two.  The air smelled more like diesel exhaust, but the sun was nice.  I ran by St. Nikolai Church on my way back to the hotel, but for some reason the hotel was nowhere in sight.  I somehow made it to the grocery (Billa’s) that we went to yesterday, realized I was too far West, went back to the main square and tried to get back to the hotel again.  A ten minute delay proved to be no problem for my 9:15 meeting with Maggie to go to the orphanage, but it was nerve-racking for a little while, anyway.  With the addition of bread and butter (khelab and mosla) to our Bulgarian vocabulary, breakfast was much more successful, and I made it to the hotel lobby to meet Maggie, showered and dressed, at 9:15.

After another 4 lev for a short taxi trip, Maggie and I were welcomed into the orphanage to meet with the director and psychologist again, as well as meet the local social worker who would be reporting back about my visits with N.  I tried to follow the conversation along, failed miserably, then tried to show off with a “Hi, how are you?” and proper response (that went OK), but eventually, after showing my passport to the social worker and getting complemented on my cute family, N entered the room.  His face was flushed and hair was matted and his eyes glazy-he had been woken up from an atypical morning nap for me.  Apparently the little guy was worn out by all of the playing we had done! There’s no rest for the weary, however, and we immediately went back upstairs to the room with the toys.  This time, I started by holding him and he was very receptive to that.  He wasn’t interested in coloring, and he was somewhat interested in the block puzzles, but most of all he was engrossed in his door obsession, trying every door in the hall until he found that one with enough give to hit the wall behind it.  We took advantage of the moment to try to learn open and close, at least.

As a distraction from the amazing doors, we walked N to the slide at the end of the hall.  What was a fearful, annoying experience yesterday became a memory to be cherished as we rolled the little yellow Chevy truck done the slide and watched it go (davai).  We squeezed onto the slide (purzalka) and went down together, and the end of the slide was met with a smile, every time.  It wasn’t long before he started to try more doors again, and as other distractions, we began flipping lights as his mind worked over the relation between the switches and the lights coming on an off.  We rolled a beach ball back a forth until he could legitimately claim “just crawling around” and not “I am heading towards a door”.  We did some acrobatics today (flips, flying, and sitting on my shoulders), but we DID NOT like sitting on my neck-that was too high and dangerous for his liking.  But, I got to cuddle and calm him down in about 30 seconds.  Soon he’ll know that I won’t drop him!

With lunch being at 12:00, we were responsible for moving him back downstairs so he could eat with the rest of his group.  Bye Bye (Choa Choa), N!  Thanks to Billa’s grocery store, lunch was on the cheap using our fruit and lunch meat form yesterday.  I couldn’t stop thinking about being with N that evening, so in the mean time I learned how to count from 0 to 10 for fun countdowns with N. 

Another 4 lev brought us to N, who we met outside.  He was still physically tired, so we sat at a gazebo, and I showed him water (boda).  I poured it on my hand, and as it pooled in my palm he put his forefinger in it, flicked it, started “washing” his hair and splashing the water.  He also drank very well from the bottle, but otherwise showed no interest in the bottle itself-he was more like “Get to the point, I’m thirsty, please (molja).  Again, N loved kicking balls, going down the purzalka, and being just being silly. He loved watching the cars (kolati) go by, too.  The only distraction during the car (kola) time was a French-made hubcap with a lion (wolfche) on it that we threw away like a frisbee.  Back on the swing (lulka), he almost fell asleep, laying his head on my hand for a pillow as he was rocked for one of the first times in his life.  I got more smiles today that I could have ever asked for, and between you and me, I am calling myself tatko (daddy) whenever I want. 

Dinner was courtesy of “Burger Point”, and thanks to the help of a ten year old who could speak a little English, we got two (dve) double cheeseburger meals with Pepsi.  We even got a surprise for free-fly by bird poop!  Right on Dad’s head!

4-4-16

*written by Ry while in country

Today is the day.

Today is the day the Lord has made.  So it’s a good one, no matter what.

Today is the day I get to meet my new son, N.  So it’s a great one, no matter what!

After a good, meaty breakfast at our hotel in which we made use of Google again to order extra toast and butter, Maggie met us at 9:30 to head off to the orphanage where N would meet me for the first time.  By taxi, the orphanage is about 5 minutes away from our hotel and costs about 4 lev.  We drove across the pothole laden roads, through a narrow, rust white gate, and onto a large, weedy, driveway leading to what looked to be like an elementary school mixed with a hotel.  The orphanage had been built in the 50’s, and you could tell.  But, it could have been worse.  All in all, it was clean and fresh, and the director of the orphanage, as well as the psychologist, was kind.  The director mentioned that I was young-that she had a daughter born in 1990-and I mentioned that now is the best time to adopt.

Within 5 minutes, a deep olive skinned boy with freshly cut black hair swept to the left side came into the room, carried by the orphanage psychologist.  He was wearing corduroy brown pants with a green flannel shirt that said “tractor” on the front and “I want to farm” on the back.  I wanted to snatch him and run, but I settled for waving and poking him, similar to how you would treat a cute 9 month old when the mother doesn’t want you to hold him.  The psychologist mentioned that his heart started beating when I got close, however, so I had to ease into the role of “friend” all the while wanting to be “Dad”.  We were taken to a corridor upstairs with three rooms on the left side, three windows on the right, a bathroom at one end and a slide at the other, and each room had a window to the other side of the wing of the building.  In the last room, there were many toys sitting on a short blue table and a larger carpet in the middle, and the psychologist sat N down.

I can’t describe the meeting in order, or in that great of detail, but here’s the gist.  N loves to test things out with his mouth or by tapping them against something to see what sound it makes.  As he ate a yellow Chevy truck, he spun the wheels with his left fingers.  He made eye contact with me as a friend when I started tapping a hollow box with my finger-he became interested and started to tap the box in turn with me.  We took N to the window as the psychologist left, leaving Maggie and I by ourselves with N.  Outside he was able to see cars and a playground and some people working and playing; I was trying to say and sign everything I saw, just to show N how big of a world there was and how much he could learn, but as he sighed one time, I could see he had an idea of how big the world was, and there was more pressure behind his sigh than anyone his age should have.

N loves to fly.  I got on my back, lifted him up and he flew a few feet above the ground, and he flew straight into my heart as he smiled back at me every time I gave him a “Boink” on the forehead, or when I gave him a “Nosy-Nosy”.  He walked with my help from room to room, not quite enjoying the slide, but loving the sound that a metal door makes when it opens too wide into a plaster wall.  After discovering that he loved that sound so much, every door became a distraction and he wanted to make the big “Boom” sound he heard on the first door.  Once he realized that Maggie and I were trying to get him to be done with the doors, he went back to eating his hollow box that we started with.  But this time, he started rolling the box. He rolled it a little at a time, seemingly innocent, until we realized he was rolling the block towards the door so that he could sneak his way into banging the door!  He liked to stretch (thank you “MyGym” for teaching me how to do stretches with kids) and he liked to lay on his back and bicycle with his feet.  He also liked giving kisses to the sheep puppet-but his favorite thing, by far was flying.

N had to go eat lunch however, so Maggie, Dad, and I met for lunch at Dublin (apparently Irish pubs are in Bulgaria, too).  Lunch was very good-I got very happy when I learned that Bulgaria had an award winning beer named “Zagorka” (which is very good, by the way) and that Bulgarian food is traditionally meaty (which is also very good, by the way).

Back at the orphanage at around 4, Maggie and I were met at the door by a nurse (one of many who works the orphanage while the director and psychologist are gone for the day).  Behind her were the faces of the children who did not get to meet their future dad that day, and looked at me with eyes full of tentative and scared hope.  And in front of them was N, handed to me by the nurse.  It didn’t take too long for him to remember Maggie and I, and he liked to look at the videos we took of him that morning, and he pointed at himself and me on the camera as he remembered.  The 70 deg F sunny weather made it possible to play outside, and after putting on a jacket with a missing button, N, Maggie, and I set off to try each of the decades old slides and swings.  We walked to the edge of the yard where we could see cars on the other side of the fence; N just watched them attentively with his eyes, turning his head as the busses and big trucks sputtered by.  Again, what he seemed to love most and what would always make him smile was flying in my arms, and me being a junkie on his smile already obliged as much as I felt was good for him.  He attempted to explore some of the play-pieces, and he was “meh” about the slide, but apparently I need to buy a bunch of old, dry rotted toy drums.  We found one such drum in the playground, and when I kicked it he made a scoffing sound, almost like he thought he could do better!  So, I swung him down to the drum and his legs drug past, kicking the drum, and he started to cackle.  Bubble burst out of his mouth with slobbery joy as he looked at me and asked with his eyes again and again to kick the drum.  6 o’clock came fast, and as I walked back to the doors of the orphanage, N yawned and laid his head on my shoulders to take a rest.  And finally, when I leaned to give N back to the nurse, he leaned back into me and reached asking me not to let him go. 

So naturally, after 4 more days of this, I will have one problem:  How in the world am I going to let him go for 5 more months!?!?!?

4-2/3-16

*written by Ry while in country

The name of the title is not just convenient, but it is indicative of the way that the first 24 hours of this trip has felt-I couldn’t tell where one day ended and the next began!  My dad was so awesome when he offered to come with me on his own dime, knowing that he would be stuck in a hotel or wondering the town by himself most of the time and not able to see N at all.  We drove together to Cincinnati.  We were going to stop at Chris and Leah’s house (friends from college who I wish would move to Louisville), but realized that it would be cheaper than a taxi just to park at the airport.  But a shout out to C and L for volunteering to help us out!  It didn’t take long for things to get interesting for Dad; he had lost his Nyquil to airport security and got a Philly Cheesesteak sandwich from a vendor that only had one girl working (taking orders and making food).  I got Chik-fil-a and had no problems, as usual with Chik-fil-a; but no sooner than Dad sat down with his food, the airport went dark as the electricity was lost!  I casually mentioned to Dad, “It stinks for anyone in that elevator.”  We ate our food comfortably and walked back to our gate at the planned time to board the plane.  Our flight was delayed, however, due to the electricity, and even more so, our pilots were stuck in the elevator!  I’ll hold my tongue next time!

Leaving an hour late only caused our 7 hour flight to arrive late by 30 minutes due to some tail-wind we had.  I tried (I promise!) to sleep and catch up on some sleep I had been missing the past 5 weeks due to Jack, but I failed, and watched Terminator Genesys instead (actually better than I thought it would be; it definitely beats Terminator 3…).  I slept for about 2 hours total.  I did get a picture of the Eiffel Tower from the plane, so I was satisfied!  We had heard that Paris was a monster of an airport to navigate, and that all sorts of problems could occur there.  But we had ZERO issues!  We made it from our plane to the gate of our connecting flight in no time, and we had plenty of time to sit and walk and stretch our legs.  We heard that baggage can get lost or you might have to take a bus from one terminal to another, but we didn’t have a single problem.  As the Bulgarian people started sitting around me waiting to get on the plane to take them home, it all began to feel very real for me. 

Our three hour flight to Bulgaria was made one hour shorter via nap time J.  Our bags showed up in about 5 minutes (pretty much a miracle), and we made our way to meet Maggie (not her real name, but changed for privacy) who would be riding with us and a private driver for three hours from Sofia to Yambol.  Maggie has been nothing but sweet, kind, and helpful since we met, and she has made our trip very comfortable with her language skills and country knowledge.  The first thing you notice about Bulgarian countryside is the mountains.  What starts as distant clouds, later turns out to be snowcapped mountains!  The range approximately splits north and south Bulgaria, and we ran the length of them.  The rest of the countryside was flat, the land reminding me of Indiana or Kansas, the sheep and farmers bringing to mind Ireland, and the juxtaposition of flat and mountain recalling Kauai, Hawaii.  We stopped for a driver smoke break, and we managed not to get hit going 150km/hr (93mph) when we finally made it to our hotel.  After saying thank you “Blagodaria” and good night “Leke nosht” to Maggie and our driver, we immediately made use of Google to ask our receptionist why neither myself nor my dad had power in our rooms.  Note to self:  check or a card activated switch next time I rent a hotel in Europe-that’s probably why the lights and receptacles don’t work!