The scars

The more that I get to know our newest daughter, the more and more I am AMAZED at the drastic difference in her and her brothers. She does not have many of the “orphan stuff” that we’ve become accustom to dealing with.
For one, she is a SNUGGLER. More so, her hugs and her affection is completely natural. She lays into hugs and relaxes. She seeks out touch and comfort. She is my little snuggle bug! It was a LONG time before any of the boys gave “natural” hugs.

If she’s unsure of something, she looks to me for reassurance. She CRIES when she’s upset and she WANTS comfort. She is leery of stranger. While all of this is “normal”, none of our boys did any of this. Annikah has clearly been very loved and cared for. If I did not know her history, it’d be easy to believe that she was raised in a loving family.

She also plays with toys appropriately! Again, this is just amazing to us. She doesn’t just play appropriately, she pretend plays too! I am quite sure that this is a direct result of her going to kindergarten (daycare) in the local village. But, Kullen did too (same place, actually) and he did NOT play appropriately when he came home (though looking back, we dealt with so much behavior that he may have known what to do and just chose not to).

Annikah does GREAT with the other kids. She’s right in the middle of all the play time activities and we haven’t seen any aggression, bullying, etc. She’s a mischievous little one though!

It has been really amazing to experience all of this. We’ve walked a lot of journeys with our boys and dealt with a lot of issues that were related to their past experiences. So this is VERY different for us. As we tucked her into bed tonight, I commented to Robert that it’s hard to believe that this is the little girl attached to the social history report that we have.

Yet then there are these reminders………

She has a scar on her arm from the Tuberculosis vaccine. Her immunization records note the location of the scar. It came from the “booster” when she was a year old. I wasn’t there to hold her while she was getting what must have been a painful shot (and she wouldn’t have needed it had she been my daughter then).

Can you see the scar beside her eye?
(the red is from her sinuses. She’s sick right now)

I have no idea where it came from. The director didn’t know. Just one more small reminder of so many missing years.

Then, there is this scar:
Her chest was cracked open and she went through a major heart surgery. I wasn’t there. In fact, I don’t know if anyone was there with her. Did she lay in the recovery room all alone? Was anyone in the waiting room praying and worried if she’d survive? Was she scared when she woke up? Did someone make sure that her pain was managed? Who held her hand and told her what a brave and strong baby she was to go through that and survive? Tonight, I placed my hand over her beating heart and thanked God for His protection over her life. Had anyone done that before me?

This is one of the most vivid reminders of her past life
Shortly after she was transferred to the institution, she had surgery to remove “a lump”. From the medical report, we think it was a lymph node that was removed. Though it’s hard to see in this photo, this is a big and ugly scar on the side of her face. It will be the one that everyone who meets her notices. I’ve already been asked “What happened?” several times. Each time, my brain screams, “I don’t know! I don’t know if it was necessary. I don’t know if they were careful. I don’t know how scared she was. I don’t know if it could have been done better so that it didn’t scar so bad. I wasn’t there with her. I just don’t know.” Instead, I say “she had a lymph node removed” and a small piece of my heart aches for the years she spent without a mommy.

Today, she went to the doctor. She got a couple of shots and had a blood draw (actually, she had two because we ended up at the hospital getting it done because the lab tech at the pediatrician’s office couldn’t get a vein).
She cried during the shots and briefly during the blood draws. None of my boys have ever cried during shots or blood draws. She cried. Then, she turned to me and buried her face in my shoulder.
She wrapped her little arms around my neck and I whispered “Mommy’s here” in her ear.

Mommy’s here.
No more scars or surgeries or shots without having parents who love her there with her for comfort and support. No more unexplained marks or “unknowns” written for medical history from this day forward.