I had a dream last night.
I was in a rather rural and shabby looking hospital, it looked like it had been converted from an elementary school. I have no idea why I was there, but I was in the hall, and I noticed someone stealing an infant - it was winter, and cold, and snowing, and this dark haired person just walked right out of the hospital with a naked infant in their arms, and no one stopped them. I tried to report it to the authorities, but no one would believe me. Until the next morning, when people noticed that a baby was gone. Then the people I tried to report it to got mad at me, and tried to shut me up.
I woke up this morning and kinda laughed it off as just a weird dream, told Sebastian about it ... and then realized something that I had been trying to bury for the last few days. I obviously didn't bury it very well.
Last year's post: I Will Always Love You
(And for anyone who wants the longer version, check out She Part 1 and She Part 2 ... which reminds me I never wrote Part 3 ...)
It is the third anniversary of two wonderful little boys coming into my life; two wonderful little boys that I would only get to know for a short time before they moved on again.
It is getting easier to think of them, to remember them, but the hurt is still there, and very deep.
Boys, wherever you are, I hope life has been gentle with you, and you are blossoming into the wonderful people that I know you can be. You are 6 and 7 now; I wish I could see you and know you, sing you to sleep again. I still miss you, and I will always love you ...
When the boys first came to us, I knew a couple of Russian lullabies, and obviously some in English, but "Stairway to Heaven" was the one guaranteed way to get the little one, my little monkey man, to fall asleep in my arms.
Showing posts with label the boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the boys. Show all posts
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Friday, December 31, 2010
Healing through movies
While I was up visiting Sebastian, we watched a few movies, but two in particular led to some deep conversations, and some healing. The two movies were Restrepo, and Salt.
One may seem obvious, the other not so much maybe.
I was a little hesitant to watch Restrepo, not to watch it myself so much as to have him watch it, so soon after coming home. I was over-ruled, however, as within an hour of me getting there he asked if I remembered to bring it. I had, of course, so we watched it our first night together.
All in all it was a good experience. A number of the scenes got him talking about stuff, about the realities. Parts of it made him laugh, parts got him telling stories. The only scene he couldn't watch was the extra entitled "Sleeping Soldiers" - he hovered over that with the remote, and said in a soft voice "It is so hard to watch a soldier sleep, they look so innocent ... "
We talked some more after the movie was over, and I truly appreciate having it as a catalyst for the conversations we had.
A couple of night later, we watched Salt, with Angelina Jolie. Sections of the movie are spoken in Russian, sub-titled in English. I was getting a bid sad throughout the movie, and then there is a scene where 2 Russians are talking and they say
F'sio? (translated in the movie as: That's it?)
F'sio. (I am not spelling it right, but this is what is sounds like)
I burst into tears. I recalled two wonderful little boys using that phrase, a lot.
(see this post for details). S and I have talked about this incident before. He, wisely, knew there was nothing to be said, that it wasn't something that needed to be "fixed", and let me cry. He is a very, very wise man. And in the end, the comfort of another human was all I needed.
One may seem obvious, the other not so much maybe.
I was a little hesitant to watch Restrepo, not to watch it myself so much as to have him watch it, so soon after coming home. I was over-ruled, however, as within an hour of me getting there he asked if I remembered to bring it. I had, of course, so we watched it our first night together.
All in all it was a good experience. A number of the scenes got him talking about stuff, about the realities. Parts of it made him laugh, parts got him telling stories. The only scene he couldn't watch was the extra entitled "Sleeping Soldiers" - he hovered over that with the remote, and said in a soft voice "It is so hard to watch a soldier sleep, they look so innocent ... "
We talked some more after the movie was over, and I truly appreciate having it as a catalyst for the conversations we had.
A couple of night later, we watched Salt, with Angelina Jolie. Sections of the movie are spoken in Russian, sub-titled in English. I was getting a bid sad throughout the movie, and then there is a scene where 2 Russians are talking and they say
F'sio? (translated in the movie as: That's it?)
F'sio. (I am not spelling it right, but this is what is sounds like)
I burst into tears. I recalled two wonderful little boys using that phrase, a lot.
(see this post for details). S and I have talked about this incident before. He, wisely, knew there was nothing to be said, that it wasn't something that needed to be "fixed", and let me cry. He is a very, very wise man. And in the end, the comfort of another human was all I needed.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
I will always love you ♥
Even though we only had a short time together, you left such a big hole in my heart when you went away. You made me re-examine a lot of what I thought about myself, and who I was, and who I had the potential to be.
I miss you both every day, and while I hope your lives are amazing, and full of love, I wish there could have been a way for you to stay with us.
Pomni, ya vsegda ryadom ♥
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This weekend is the second anniversary of an important event in a long chain of events that have left some very deep scars in me, and in my family.
Two years ago on Good Friday my bother and the woman he chose to marry came home from Russia with two little boys (brothers) that they had adopted.
I had been staying at my brother's house, house sitting for him for the 6 weeks they spent in Russia getting used to the children, final paperwork being done, etc. The deal was that when they came home, depending on the hour, I would leave, or "retreat" to the basement bedroom, and leave in the morning. The social worker had indicated that it was important that the children be exposed only to their new parents for the first little while, with no other adults or family members around, to allow them to "figure out" the relationship. I was cool with that.
As my brother walked up the driveway, he looked gaunt, and haunted. He asked me to stay. I did not hesitate for a moment; I stayed. After he, his wife, and the boys got in the house, and had a chance to settle a bit, he pulled me aside and said words that will haunt me forever: "She's changed her mind. She doesn't want them. Please stay.".
What .... the ..... F .........
We thought that maybe she was just tired, anxious, needed some time in her own home to adjust. We were wrong.
The boys were 3 and 4 years old, 1/2 brothers (same mom, different dad). The older boy was wise beyond his years, and had a sadness about him. The younger one was chubby, full of life, but was obviously used to fighting for his own. They were far from perfect ~ they had grown up in an orphanage in Russia, and they scratched, bit, kicked, and pinched. They spoke no English. They had been ripped away from everything familiar to them, and placed in this strange new world.
My brother had learned a bit of Russian leading up to the adoption, and I learned some very quickly. I ended up living with them for 6 weeks, acting as primary female caregiver to the boys. I played with them, I cuddled and sang the little one to sleep, I took them to the park. The older boy bonded with my brother, and would do anything for him; the younger one bonded to me, and my brother and I both bonded with the boys.
She, the woman my brother is married to, never bonded with either child. She would not get close to them, would not touch them. In the beginning I tried giving her some time with them, to bond, and would have to go running back into the room when I heard her yelling and cursing at them. She claimed to be afraid of them. She claimed to have "post adoption depression".
Their social worker asked me to stay. My brother asked me to stay. I was starting to wonder about moving to the city my brother lived in, re-arranging my whole life, to stay and help raise the boys.
And inevitably, I suppose, She and I had a fight. A blow up. I told her that I didn't believe she ever wanted to actually have children, that she only wanted other people to look at her and think she was a good mother, that she actually wanted a doll, and didn't understand the reality of caring for another being.
She kicked me out. Asked her mother to come stay. Her own mother lasted 10 days, and got angry with her and left.
The day I left I was crying. We were outside. The little one, my little monkey man, took off his mittens and used them to dry my tears.
The social worker tried to find solutions, but ultimately my brother made the decision to surrender the children to another family that could love them. His wife had became physically abusive with the children.
He actually managed to get video footage of her threatening the boys, and when he played it for her, her only response was that he "shouldn't video tape {her} without {her} permission".
The day before the boys left with their new family, I was allowed to come and see them one last time, and say goodbye. I played for a while, and then went into the house with my brother. The little one kept asking for me after I left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I was younger, I swore I didn't want children. As I grew, and held and watched and played with my friend's children, I became open to the possibility, but never felt a "need".
The boys being gone has left a hole in me, and I find myself now wondering "what if" ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And yes, my brother and his wife now have a baby girl ... which I will post about another day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Two years ago on Good Friday my bother and the woman he chose to marry came home from Russia with two little boys (brothers) that they had adopted.
I had been staying at my brother's house, house sitting for him for the 6 weeks they spent in Russia getting used to the children, final paperwork being done, etc. The deal was that when they came home, depending on the hour, I would leave, or "retreat" to the basement bedroom, and leave in the morning. The social worker had indicated that it was important that the children be exposed only to their new parents for the first little while, with no other adults or family members around, to allow them to "figure out" the relationship. I was cool with that.
As my brother walked up the driveway, he looked gaunt, and haunted. He asked me to stay. I did not hesitate for a moment; I stayed. After he, his wife, and the boys got in the house, and had a chance to settle a bit, he pulled me aside and said words that will haunt me forever: "She's changed her mind. She doesn't want them. Please stay.".
What .... the ..... F .........
We thought that maybe she was just tired, anxious, needed some time in her own home to adjust. We were wrong.
The boys were 3 and 4 years old, 1/2 brothers (same mom, different dad). The older boy was wise beyond his years, and had a sadness about him. The younger one was chubby, full of life, but was obviously used to fighting for his own. They were far from perfect ~ they had grown up in an orphanage in Russia, and they scratched, bit, kicked, and pinched. They spoke no English. They had been ripped away from everything familiar to them, and placed in this strange new world.
My brother had learned a bit of Russian leading up to the adoption, and I learned some very quickly. I ended up living with them for 6 weeks, acting as primary female caregiver to the boys. I played with them, I cuddled and sang the little one to sleep, I took them to the park. The older boy bonded with my brother, and would do anything for him; the younger one bonded to me, and my brother and I both bonded with the boys.
She, the woman my brother is married to, never bonded with either child. She would not get close to them, would not touch them. In the beginning I tried giving her some time with them, to bond, and would have to go running back into the room when I heard her yelling and cursing at them. She claimed to be afraid of them. She claimed to have "post adoption depression".
Their social worker asked me to stay. My brother asked me to stay. I was starting to wonder about moving to the city my brother lived in, re-arranging my whole life, to stay and help raise the boys.
And inevitably, I suppose, She and I had a fight. A blow up. I told her that I didn't believe she ever wanted to actually have children, that she only wanted other people to look at her and think she was a good mother, that she actually wanted a doll, and didn't understand the reality of caring for another being.
She kicked me out. Asked her mother to come stay. Her own mother lasted 10 days, and got angry with her and left.
The day I left I was crying. We were outside. The little one, my little monkey man, took off his mittens and used them to dry my tears.
The social worker tried to find solutions, but ultimately my brother made the decision to surrender the children to another family that could love them. His wife had became physically abusive with the children.
He actually managed to get video footage of her threatening the boys, and when he played it for her, her only response was that he "shouldn't video tape {her} without {her} permission".
The day before the boys left with their new family, I was allowed to come and see them one last time, and say goodbye. I played for a while, and then went into the house with my brother. The little one kept asking for me after I left.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When I was younger, I swore I didn't want children. As I grew, and held and watched and played with my friend's children, I became open to the possibility, but never felt a "need".
The boys being gone has left a hole in me, and I find myself now wondering "what if" ...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And yes, my brother and his wife now have a baby girl ... which I will post about another day.
A good friend of mine once commented that if my life were a soap opera, the editors would cut stuff like this because no one would believe it.
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