Joy and Pain

Thursday morning, I took Miss K to the medical lab to get some blood drawn. Routine stuff to verify some of the medical information we received from Ethiopia and determine whether any of her vaccines need to be repeated.

She made so many friends in the half hour or so that we sat in the lobby. When strangers talk to her, she looks them straight in the eyes and smiles as she shyly tucks her head in against my neck. Melts even the grumpiest old men. If I engage in conversation with them, she seems to interpret that as a cue that it's safe to come out and be the center of attention.

Seeming comfortable with herself and secure in my arms, she smiled, babbled and did all of her tricks for the people in the waiting room: saying "ba-ba" (as she waves her little left hand bye-bye), cheering "yay!" as she claps her hands, saying "uh oh!" (as she drops something), wink eye (I wink at her and she scrunches her nose up and does a double blink in response), and sillily shaking her head back and forth (the first trick she showed us in Ethiopia) when anyone asked her a question.

She's so content, carefree and trusting. The needle stick would be the first physical pain I'd subjected her to. I worried that she'd feel betrayed when I'd have to hold her still to get the required 6 vials of blood drawn.

To the astonishment of both me and our lab technician, little 10-month-old Miss K sat perfectly still while the tourniquet was tightened on her bicep and the needle was inserted in her little vein. No resistance and not a whimper or a fuss. She grinned and babbled away at the technician through the whole procedure. Just making small talk. Like she'd done it a million times before.

When I recounted the incident to Hus-B, he responded "well, a needle in the arm must be nothing to her compared to all she's been through". And he was right.

We get asked all the time whether Miss K ever cries. The answer is very rarely. She is such a joyful, delightful child! Full of life with a personality so much bigger than her chunky little body. And she's so smart and eager to learn! She seems to understand and comprehend conversations and situations at a level far ahead of her age. She's got an extraordinary air about her.

We know very little about her life before the government orphanage. We do know, however, that she's been loved, that she learned to love, and that she's lost loved ones.

Inside our smiley, bubbly baby is a heart that has been broken. Every couple of weeks since we've been home, Miss K has given us a glimpse of a very real, raw and intense grief. They say infants grieve in their sleep. Each time it's happened as I was rocking her at night, just as she started to drift off to sleep. Memories, images, sounds and/or smells must come flooding back to her. She starts sobbing. Mournful, painful, inconsolable sobs. After a few minutes, the sadness turns to fearfulness. Is she remembering the first time she cried for her birth family and they didn't respond? Then comes the anger. She screams, arches her back, stiffens her legs, flails her arms and pushes me away. Then the sad sobs return. I continue rocking her. I do my best to soothe her and love on her. I sing to her. I pray for her. I talk to her softly and tell her I know she's hurting. Sometimes it seems to help, sometimes I feel like my voice and touch make it worse. The cycle usually lasts 20-30 minutes. Eventually she will settle back into her cozy position--with her exhausted little head cradled atop my left elbow as I pat her back with my right hand--she will accept her bottle and drift off to sleep. And there will be no sign of any feelings other than pure joy and zest for life for another week or two when it happens again.

We pray that Miss K's constant joy is not a subconscious defense mechanism to cover her pain. We don't want her to ever think we haven't appreciated the extent of her loss. Or grow up to think we were oblivious to struggles and challenges unique to her. Or that we've swept issues under the rug. We pray that God gives us perception, direction and wisdom as parents. That our precious little girl always feels loved, understood and supported. That her bright eyes and vivacious spirit will come to reflect a heart healed by our Lord. And that He will be glorified in it all.