Lost Time

Sometimes Ivor gets totally beside himself, UPSET.  It seems since we have moved to the new house, it is more often than it was before.  It is so sad to see how easily insecurities arise and the solid ground is shaken beneath his feet.  It's hard for him to cope once he has become upset about something and it can be very difficult for him to "move on."

Perhaps one of the strangest things Ivor deals with is the inability to decipher real from make believe.  Children have a hard time with this anyway, but Ivor has an especially difficult time.  For instance, a bug on a page of a book is just as real to Ivor as if the bug were before him, alive.  This includes cartoon images.  Ivor can't bring himself to like anything that is even the least bit threatening.  He recently was working on "G's" with his speech therapist and on the page was a cartoon image of a ghost.  Ivor convinced his therapist to cut the image out, before he could move forward.

In my recent research I stumbled across this "issue".  It was noted, children who do not recieve the care they need in the first 3 months of life, risk the portion of their brain not developing right that helps a child from telling real from not real.  When I read these things it brings forth such heartbreaking evidence.  Ivors start was not fair.   I hate the thought of my son, my child, laying unattended in an orphanage.  I want so badly to reclaim that time and hold, coddle and comfort my baby.  If he had been within my reach he would have been held more than not.  It is so frustrating to look at your child, who is with you every day, and think of them not behind held, to think of their cries going unanswered.  Ugh.  These are things we, as adoptive parents are not prepared for.  We mourn the loss of the time we did not have them.  We get angry at their past, not just for them but for us too.  We hate that we missed a chapter (or more) of our child's life.  

I long to fix it, relive it, change it...but we can't go back.

My mind goes to all the children that lay there now, being neglected or abused NOW.  I go crazy wanting to save them, hold them and prevent any damage or unneccesary tears.  I scream inside wishing my internal fit would produce some miracle.  It doesn't.  All I can do is keep trying.  Keep advocating.  Keep praying.  Keep remembering the forgotten, and rest knowing one day God will make us whole again and the tears will be wiped away.