Dear Emilia,
Six years ago today, I carried you out of the only home you'd ever known into cold wind and sleet as the sun had almost set over Dobrich. You were light as a feather in my arms and your face showed sheer terror at what was happening to you.
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| November 14, 2011 |
I had waited and longed for you for months, enduring delay after delay, and now that I had you with me, I realized I didn't know you at all. You shied away from our touch when it exceeded the boundaries of what you had known, you were restless and listless at the same time, you did not seem to want to give life another try. I wasn't prepared to see your malnourished body when I peeled the clothes off you for the first time or to see the patches of missing hair on your head, the brittle nails, the deep circles under your eyes. I wasn't ready to hear laughter and crying that was indistinguishable, to watch you rock in a corner for hours while covering your ears and sometimes eyes, too. I was clueless about the level of neglect and trauma you had experienced which would show itself fully in the years to come. I didn't know the many diagnoses that awaited us.
This morning, as I was sitting on the couch, watching the news, I heard your feet patter down the stairs. I knew in a moment you would run around the corner and fling yourself into my arms, "Mama, Mama, Mama, hi." You snuggled with me for several minutes, being generous with your kisses and squeezes until you said, "I go see daddy" and off you were. I knew in another moment I would hear the words, "Daddy, I want hold you" from the kitchen. Oh, how much has changed.
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| November 14, 2017 |
You have learned so much this past year from riding a bike to just about using the bathroom consistently. Your teachers told me last week that your social skills have skyrocketed and that you are getting along fabulously with your classmates. You say, "No help, by myself" with increasing frequency each day.
As your face matures, I see your beautiful birth mother and grandmother in it more and more. I also see myself in your preferences about the world, in the way you say no and okay, in how you like to pepper your speech with German expressions sometimes. You're like your dad in your positive attitude and the way you can make people feel good about themselves.
This morning when I wished you a Happy Together Forever Day, you clapped your hands and exclaimed, "Happy birthday!" I was going to correct you and tell you it's not your birthday, but then I realized that in a way November 14 is the anniversary of your re-birth as a cherished and beloved daughter, sister, cousin, niece, granddaughter and friend.
Emilia, the last six years with you have been a gift to me. Having you in our lives is a joy.
I love you.
Your Mama
