In The Raw

I'm not a person that's naturally quick to anger. I typically try to see the good in everyone, and positive side of every situation (most of the time anyways...). I don't like to blame, or call someone out. Even if they are at fault. But lately, I've noticed something. Something bitter. Something that more than "bugs" me.

This is my brother, Gabe. He is nine years old.

When we first met him three years ago, in Ukraine, he was six years of age and weighed just 21lbs.
He spent those six years lying in a crib. all. day. long.

He was terrified. For many of our 2 hour visits he cried and trembled in fear (and probably pain) non-stop. Since he's been home, his fear of new surroundings have shaved down to a minimum. He went from hardly being able to sit up on his own, to walking with assistance. From drinking only liquids/pureed foods from a bottle, to beginning to chew solids and feed himself with utensils. 

Before and after: 1 month home

I am beyond amazed at the miraculous things God has done with him in these past three years. When we met him, we weren't even sure if walking would be in his future. We've gone through it all as if he was a six month old. The day he began crawling was pure awesomeness. I will certainly never forget the night he reached for me. Reached for me! He went from pushing our hands away, never wanting to be held, to 'asking' to be picked up. Now, he's the most affectionate, cuddly kid. He loves people. Even if he can just sit next to you, he's happy.

With all that being said, there are still little things. Little things that do not resemble the "sunshine and rainbows" like some people may expect to hear from an adoption story. No, ours is very real. Gabe has definitely lived a life of redemption thus far, but there are still things that some days drive us crazy. If you hadn't noticed, he typically has his hands in his face. This is his major stem that we believe he acquired as a way to occupy or sooth himself when nobody else would. They have decreased slightly, but not much.

When he gets over-stimulated, usually in the evening when he's tired, he'll start cracking up laughing. For no reason. I mean there is obviously a reason, but it's not just because he saw something funny on tv or he's being tickled. Nothing like that. Sometimes he'll do this thing where he squishes his mouth into his hands really hard, and scrunches up his face while making a "ughhh" sound. It's quite difficult to explain. But it's sometimes so intense and stiff, you can't even pull his hands down from his face. There's no point in even attempting to stop it. Thankfully, it only lasts a second or so. And around here, of course it's normal. I'm sure if a stranger caught him doing it they'd freak out.

It's those things. Those little things that strike this bitterness in me. Sometimes I have to remind myself not to take my anger out on Gabe, for its simply not his fault. But that's just it. Who's fault is it? I want to be mad at his former orphanage and nannies. Because maybe, just maybe if they would have picked him up and cradled his little body for fifteen short minutes a day, he wouldn't deal with these "ticks" and "stems". Or would he? Maybe he was just born this way. Maybe there is something else going on his brain that we know nothing about.

I've learned to be okay without the answers. After all, the past is the past. There's nothing we can do to change that. I just wish we could take all of it away from him. All the annoying ticks and non-stop stemming. Teach him when and why to giggle. Show him there's no reason to be afraid when we walk into a new building.

In the midst of letting go of the lingering frustration, I have this smile to look forward to everyday. And that's pretty great.