And then it was one year...
I hate to make everything about me all the time...really I do.
When we got home from Korea with Alex, within the first months home, he identified and recognized V as "dad". He could say it, and when he saw him, he called him by name.
Mom, mommy, or any other version of the word was a different story. His first nights home, he would wake up screaming for his other mother, "eomma" and when that stopped, for the next 10 and a half months would not call or identify me with any version of the word mom. I read him books about mommy and baby everything and would point at myself and say "Alex's mommy" every time one of his cartoon shows would have a character calling for their mom.
Nothing.
I empathized with his trauma and need for time to attach, but I couldn't ignore that in my fragile state, I was feeling rejected because he wouldn't call me mom...even though I knew to expect it. I also couldn't help to feel jealous that V was Dad almost instantaneously while I was sitting there at six months home, wondering if he would ever have any name for me because at that point, I would have taken almost anything. He did say "Hey!" for a little while every time he saw me...does that count?
Aside from the occasional pity parties for one on hard days, I accepted that he would call me whatever in his own time and assured myself that at least I was on his list of trusted caretakers. My mind really messed with my confidence while I stayed home and had all day to over analyze everything. Obviously...if I was stuck on such a seemingly insignificant detail (story of my life). I was looking for validation everywhere...
Three-ish months ago, he finally started pointing at me when someone asked him where mom was and a short time after that began trying to say mom, which right now is "ba" because he can't pronounce words that start with "m". Ba, ironically, is Grandma is Gujarati and what we call V's mom. I'll take it though because at least I was somebody now.
About a month ago, he was in the den watching TV and I was in the kitchen cooking dinner. It took me a minute to realize it, but he was calling for me from the other room. I went in the den and he motioned me to sit on the floor and help him trace his foot on his magic eraser board.
My heart swell-eth over with joy and I had to use every ounce of self control to not run in there and tackle him/smother him with love. That might have freaked him out a little...
I don't think I will ever forget that moment because I had been waiting for it for so long (!) and it felt more amazing than I could have ever imagined...
As we all played together after Alex woke up from his nap today as a family, I thought about how on this day, one year ago, we stumbled off the worst (and longest) flight I hope we'll ever take. We finally made it home and everyone slept. I woke up to the sound of Lindsey's daughter (then ~9 months old) making trumpeting noises with her mouth as they had snuck over to bring us goodies and welcome us home. Later, Alex woke up, still trapped in his nightmare and we spent the past year regressing/progressing and figuring out how it was all going to work...this family thing.
It's been a non-stop ride with every emotion that exists and it seems like more than a year and more like a week at the same time. I hear that's how it is with kids, anyway...
One year down...check.
When we got home from Korea with Alex, within the first months home, he identified and recognized V as "dad". He could say it, and when he saw him, he called him by name.
Mom, mommy, or any other version of the word was a different story. His first nights home, he would wake up screaming for his other mother, "eomma" and when that stopped, for the next 10 and a half months would not call or identify me with any version of the word mom. I read him books about mommy and baby everything and would point at myself and say "Alex's mommy" every time one of his cartoon shows would have a character calling for their mom.
Nothing.
I empathized with his trauma and need for time to attach, but I couldn't ignore that in my fragile state, I was feeling rejected because he wouldn't call me mom...even though I knew to expect it. I also couldn't help to feel jealous that V was Dad almost instantaneously while I was sitting there at six months home, wondering if he would ever have any name for me because at that point, I would have taken almost anything. He did say "Hey!" for a little while every time he saw me...does that count?
Aside from the occasional pity parties for one on hard days, I accepted that he would call me whatever in his own time and assured myself that at least I was on his list of trusted caretakers. My mind really messed with my confidence while I stayed home and had all day to over analyze everything. Obviously...if I was stuck on such a seemingly insignificant detail (story of my life). I was looking for validation everywhere...
Three-ish months ago, he finally started pointing at me when someone asked him where mom was and a short time after that began trying to say mom, which right now is "ba" because he can't pronounce words that start with "m". Ba, ironically, is Grandma is Gujarati and what we call V's mom. I'll take it though because at least I was somebody now.
About a month ago, he was in the den watching TV and I was in the kitchen cooking dinner. It took me a minute to realize it, but he was calling for me from the other room. I went in the den and he motioned me to sit on the floor and help him trace his foot on his magic eraser board.
My heart swell-eth over with joy and I had to use every ounce of self control to not run in there and tackle him/smother him with love. That might have freaked him out a little...
I don't think I will ever forget that moment because I had been waiting for it for so long (!) and it felt more amazing than I could have ever imagined...
As we all played together after Alex woke up from his nap today as a family, I thought about how on this day, one year ago, we stumbled off the worst (and longest) flight I hope we'll ever take. We finally made it home and everyone slept. I woke up to the sound of Lindsey's daughter (then ~9 months old) making trumpeting noises with her mouth as they had snuck over to bring us goodies and welcome us home. Later, Alex woke up, still trapped in his nightmare and we spent the past year regressing/progressing and figuring out how it was all going to work...this family thing.
It's been a non-stop ride with every emotion that exists and it seems like more than a year and more like a week at the same time. I hear that's how it is with kids, anyway...
One year down...check.
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| Freshly landed and glad to be off the plane! (this side walk was NOT moving) |
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