Isn't She Lovely, Isn't She Wonderful

Our experience visiting our daughter at her orphanage in Bulgaria was very different from the week we spent with our son in another Eastern European country. You can read about the wonderful time we had with him and his caregivers here and then compare to our days in Bulgaria.

Our very first visit with our daughter lasted about 15 minutes and cut into her nap time. We had come straight from the airport, briefly met with the orphanage director and the social worker and were then taken to a small ante-room outside of our daughter’s temporary group room (her usual group room was being renovated). This small visiting room was furnished with two big cabinets and a large couch. The windows were high and we could not really look outside unless we were standing up. We were crowded in there with the translator and the social worker and before we knew what was happening, our daughter was brought out to us by one of her caregivers. Even though we were aware of her current measurements, I was still shocked by how tiny and light she was after she was placed into my arms. She let me hold her, but it was clear that she was confused and scared about the entire experience and I cannot blame her. The setting was stressful for me, too. We were standing up with many people around, it was hot, and there was so much talking in two languages. After a few minutes in my arms, I let Craig hold her and we sat down for a little bit before being told it was time to go. I really wish I remembered more about this first meeting as I do with our son, but it’s all a blur. I know I cried and I know I tried to tell her that her Mama was here, but I doubt she was able to absorb any of it in this sensory overload situation.

When we returned in the afternoon for a second visit, we were given a different visiting room, this time a very small space with a large couch, a high window, a table, some toys, a cabinet, a TV and linoleum flooring. We spent about 90 minutes with our daughter though toward the end of that time she was hungry and became grumpy. Once again, I couldn’t blame her as she is on a very strict eating schedule and when a meal isn’t on time, she is unhappy. The room was so hot and our little girl got sweaty being passed back and forth between Craig and me. She was in socks, so she couldn’t cruise along the furniture because the floor was too slippery and she couldn’t crawl on the floor because it was too cold. We had a few toys and books we got out for her and they held her attention for a while, but what she liked the best was to be lifted up to the window by her daddy to look outside. I think she would have loved doing this for hours and she was much more animated during this activity. Over and over again, Craig held her up to see the big world she will join with us some day soon.

We spent the next three meetings with our little girl in either of these two rooms. I had asked if she could wear shoes, so she could cruise and the request was granted. There was also a carpet placed in one of the rooms, so we were able to let her crawl a little bit. She is very interested in textures, probably due to sensory deprivation in that department, and felt everything from the rough underside of the carpet to the buttons on my shirt to daddy’s hair. She also liked to feel the different things in the board books we brought. She enjoyed looking at our family photos in a soft book. We rarely saw her smile or heard her laugh though we were assured she does in her familiar setting.

On Tuesday afternoon we took our daughter out of the orphanage for about one hour to have her visa/passport photo taken. When we returned, I was allowed to feed her and learned that meals are all about speed and getting the food into the child as quickly and efficiently as possible. On Wednesday, we were allowed to walk with our daughter outside for a few minutes.

In our entire week at the orphanage, we never interacted with our daughter’s caregivers. We only saw them in passing or when they came to bring her or get her from us. If we had questions, they usually went via our translator to the social worker or the doctor and from there to the caregivers and then answers came back to us the same way. We asked to see our daughter’s eating, playing and sleeping quarters and were told this was not permitted, so we only stole brief glimpses of her room as the door opened and closed very quickly. We also never saw any other children except from afar. Our main point of contact was the social worker who was always available to us and who was friendly and helpful. However, we did not have the same warm and welcoming experience we did in our son’s orphanage where our entire time felt very natural and we were treated like beloved family right from the start.

Our last two meetings with our daughter took place in the orphanage’s physical therapy room. She was familiar and comfortable with this room and able to crawl and use the equipment there which included a giant ball pit. In this room, she finally warmed up to us and discovered that Mama’s singing is soothing, that long eye contact can be enjoyable, that parents respond to babbling, that touch is comforting, that Oma is fun, that showing off her skills earns applause and bravos, that it’s okay to giggle, that it’s safe to try her hand at trust, that she is loved beyond measure, and that life will be good. I wish we could have had more time with her in this spacious, bright, interactive setting because there we saw our daughter’s true spirit which is sweet, inquisitive, and gentle.