Take a walk with me.

Let's play a game. Indulge me in a walk down the day in the life of a child.

But let the emotions become real as you picture YOURSELF as that child.

Ready? Here we go...

Pretend you are, say, about 2 or 3 years old.

Every day for you is about the same routine. You are comforted by the fact that day in and day out you see the same people, you eat the same food, play with the same friends, and you go to bed at the same time. You love your routine.

One day, you wake up and are taken to a HUGE room. Lots of people are there.
None are familiar.
There are crying babies all around you, the room is hot and people are speaking to you, but you cannot understand what they are saying.
You have 3 choices: Cry, Run away or reluctantly let the people hold you.
The choice is made for you, as you are thrust into the woman's arms.

When you look over your shoulder in panic for a familiar face, you realize that your caregiver is gone.
You are now alone with these people who smell strange, and who you cannot understand.
You sob hysterically, and are totally terrified.

The strangers try their best to comfort you, but much to your distress, they pick you up, and get into a car, which is terrifying in and of itself. The only other car ride you had left you here with these strangers. Where are they taking you now???

They take you to a room, where they try to remove your shoes. You fight them frantically and run to the door BANGING it hard to get help! You can't take your shoes off, you aren't staying!!! Why won't anybody come help you get home?!?!?

The more the strangers try to draw you in, the more angry and reticent you become.

Where is your caregiver? Where are your friends? Your crib?

All you have known is instantly gone.

You crumple into a ball in the corner of the room and sob yourself into a fitful sleep, hoping to wake up with everything back to normal.

The days pass, and you begin to tolerate the people who are now caring for you. Although you still have no idea what they are saying to you, they are kind, and have new toys for you to play with. The food is familiar, the smells of your country are the same, and you have a crib similar to the one you have always slept in. Things aren't as bad as they originally seemed.

Each time you leave the room, you still scan the crowds for your nanny, but you are slowly beginning to relax, just a bit, and settle into a new routine in the hotel room.

Unfortunately, that routine that you just became comfortable with is about the change once again.

Your caregivers (for that is how you see them) take you onto an airplane. It makes loud noises, there are LOTS of other people, and you are restrained. For hours.

You have no idea where you are going, or why you are not in the hotel room. It is bedtime, but once again you are frantic. You could never sleep with the roar of the engines and the strange people all around. You become HYPER VIGILANT not to go to sleep. What if these caregivers are gone when you wake up?

Beyond exhausted, you leave the aircraft with your caregivers and enter a place that smells very, very strange. There are people rushing up to you, which makes you cling to your caregiver. The strangers smile and are delighted at how well you have bonded.

Bonded?!?
No, far from it.
You are only holding on tight to the only familiar person in the room.

If this person leaves you, you will once again be alone with strangers.
At least this person who has cared for you for two weeks is kind.
You make it your mission not to let this person out of your sight.
OR, you reach for the newest stranger, and hope maybe they will take you back to all you know and love.
You are confused, frightened, and aren't sure what to do.

It will take MONTHS before your new home is normal for you. Every ride in the car brings back the emotions of that first day, and even though you don't understand it fully, simple things make you panic.
Or rage. Or withdraw. Or cling to to your caregiver that you are now beginning to love.

Each new scenario brings uncertainty.

Your wise caregiver is the only one who holds you. While others may smile at you, you notice that you are always safe in her arms.
That becomes a necessary comfort when facing new situations. You begin to slowly trust that she won't leave you with other smiling strangers, because no one else is allowed that privilege but her.

Your caregiver also is the only one to feed you. To comfort you. To bathe and rock you to sleep. She sings soothing songs to you that begin to ease you when you are panicked. She rushes to you with each whimper, each nightmare, and each boo-boo. You are never far away from her, and she makes sure you can see her at all times. You begin to trust that she will be there when you need her and you begin to seek out her comfort in distress.

After months, and months of the same love and care, the same routine, and the same caregiver, you finally feel that you are HOME.

You finally see this caregiver as something more, something you have never had, or knew you needed:

A mother.
YOUR mother.




Post script: Today,Sunday, November 21st our twins will arrive home. While it will be a joyous day for us, we know that it will be a fearful day for them to lose all they have known.
We covet your prayers for their comfort and peace.

Due to the long process of attachment and bonding, only Greg and I will be the ones to hold and care for the twins for many months. It is vitally important that we gain their trust and prove to them that we are their parents- a concept they have never known.

Feel free to talk to them, or engage them from the safety of our arms, but please do not offer them treats, or ask to hold them.

As soon as we see the signs that they recognize us as their parents, and are securely attaching, we will gladly share them with all of you who have been patiently waiting.

Thank you from the depths of our hearts for your love, care, and support as we form a deep and lasting bond with Celia and Sofia that will last their lifetime!!