one thing remains

March 3, 2013 by 5 Comments

Well, February came and went like a flash, didn’t it? And I don’t know about you, or what the neck of the woods you call home feels like today…but my neck and my woods feel COLD!

So, Hello March! This mama is soooo happy to see you. Because March means spring is just around the corner and with spring comes some of my favorite kind of stuff.

Easter. He is risen, He is risen indeed!

Spring Break. Can I get a “holla” from all of the mamas out there!

And the end of the school year.

All of these make me happy, happy, happy.

The talk of new dresses and daffodils blooming and flip flops lining shelves where there  were just knee high boots…gets a lady beside herself with spring fever. But I can’t get all excited just yet. We still have  52 days of school left {but who’s counting, right?},  another month before spring break and Easter is yet a few weeks away.

And my resolve to finish strong is taking a hit. Mostly because homeschooling a son through kindergarten is HARD.

Add to that scenario, that said son was adopted internationally after having spent three years in an institution and one who was NOT speaking his own language at the time we came for him.

I distinctly remember sitting in the orphanage in September of ’09, listening to his pediatrician {super nice orphanage with a pedi on staff!} tell us that Joel’s special needs were nearly completely resolved. That though we began the process for a sick little boy with RAD {Reactive Airway Disorder} because of  premature birth at 29 weeks, NEC {Necrolizing EnteroColitis with ileal peforation, ileosotomy}& PDA {Patent Ductus Arteriosis}…he would be considered non-special needs if he were to be put on the list for adoption that day.

And had that been the case, he wouldn’t have been available for us to adopt because of that fact.

storytelling3

She went on to say that Joel had one remaining special need…lack of language. He wasn’t speaking at all.

We kinda glossed over that fact to be perfectly honest. I mean, who cares? So he can’t talk yet! Big deal, right?

Wrong.

Big, big deal.

Because though our beautiful boy was doing wonderfully medically speaking, his language deficiencies would prove to be an ongoing daily struggle.

Three and a half years.

We’ve been home three and a half years and every single day, we work and work and work on speech and language issues. He’s been in speech  therapy for 2 years {it took me nearly a year to get him qualified for help…grrrr}.

Teaching him to read has been exhausting and as frustrating as anything I’ve ever attempted to do. We have a unique school situation…we private school two days a week and home school the remaining three. It’s not a co-op…we don’t choose certain outside classes for our kids to take. They are taught every subject by degreed teachers each week for 2 days and then I facilitate the carrying out of their daily assignments {given by their teachers} on the other three days. But as you can imagine, kindergarten is a lot more “hands on” than say, my 7th grader is.

Honestly, some days, I feel like throwing in the towel. I’m discouraged and beaten it seems. And others, he reads like he’s been doing it perfectly for years.  I’ve called his teacher sobbing…and called his daddy elated with the day’s progress. I’ve prayed, cried, laughed and had to walk away. I’ve nearly called the public school to see if a 5 day week program would be better for him, though I know between the four of us {his teacher, me, his reading instructor {2 days a week} and his speech therapist {also 2 days a week},  he is getting a fantastic education and is doing so much better than he was a few months ago.

I’ve listened as his God honoring, precious teacher told me that when we have a bad morning, to just love him, to pour into his heart and to not let it get to me. Because it’s kindergarten. Not life and death. Wise, wise is this woman. Still, it’s easier to say than to do.

And at this point, I’m not sure if he or I are going to make it! Lol.

Make it to 1st grade, that is.

The jury is still out on what’s best for Joel. He is showing good improvement and making steady progress, just not as much as we would like to see. And he’s an “old” kindergartener…having turned 6 just after school started. So next year, if he repeats, he will be a 7 year old kindergartener. Again.

I’ve had to repent of my pride and my fear of failure. I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s not my fault…and it’s most assuredly not Joel’s. He tries soooo hard. He doesn’t have a learning disability that anyone suspects. It’s not that he’s lazy or doesn’t want to try. It’s not that we aren’t providing adequate help to him.

It all comes down to language.

And sometimes, that just takes a long time to sort through and figure out. In the meantime, our Joel is happy as can be, healthy as can be, and handsome as can be. So we give God glory for the work he’s done in Joel physically and emotionally.

Only one thing remains. Substantial speech deficits. And  praise God, it’s not life and death. But it is certainly life as we know it.

 

 

 

Filed Under: heart defect, Kam

the counted

February 25, 2013 by 3 Comments

Forever changed by the experience of being adopted and adopting, Kelly Raudenbush is a stay-at-home mom to 4 children and a professional juggler, juggling her calling as wife and mother with her secondary callings (editing professionally and serving adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund). You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed, and what life for them looks like as they seek to serve God and others on Kelly’s personal blog My Overthinking.

I’m a reader more than I am a writer. The stories from China I likely will never see — they draw me in, show me things in a new way. Some make me wonder; some make me laugh. And, sometimes, my casual blog reading while I sip on my morning coffee makes me pause and somehow changes the way I see things. Sometimes, they change me.

He’s a Western doctor in a very Eastern hospital. On one particular day, he witnessed something that didn’t seem all that unusual at first. About once a week, a group of people will come in, angry and looking for someone to blame. There’s yelling, a big scene, police come; 30 minutes later, it’s business as usual. A ½ hour malpractice suit, and then it’s over.

But, on this day, it didn’t end so simply. The protestors numbered 60 people, and the yelling turned to physical fighting. Their passion and grievance turned to blood — all over a baby.

Their baby had been born that day, a baby who no doubt held many dreams. And, he was born without an arm. They shed tears, raised their fists, and demanded compensation, yelling, “How can our baby live without an arm?” Unlike every other riot like this, they were actually protesting a life, not a death.

This baby would be nearly 2 years old now. I wonder where he is and what his life is like. I wonder if he is hidden away by a family ashamed and afraid. I wonder if he is well cared for or served resentfully. Does he live still with the family who protested on his birthday or does he live with another? I wonder if he is a big brother now to a “more whole” child. He lives in a place where children like him labeled as “severely handicapped” don’t count. With a signature from one of those doctors, his family would have been granted permission to break the one-child policy. When a family has a child severely disabled, they are given a free pass to try again. And, that precious child, their first born, no longer counts. They are zero, do not exist. Even in perhaps the darkest time in U.S. history, African slaves counted as 3/5 of a person.

The way I see it, the birth families of children like this precious baby are faced with a decision I cannot fathom — very simply put, (a) keep their child and raise him or her in a place with no acceptance of a special need, where he or she will always be looked at as crippled and unable or (b) let their child go to maybe, just maybe, go on to count somewhere else.

I look around at my blogroll, at the families I now call friends 3 years into this adoption adventure. I look at the pictures of their sweet babies and silly children, read the stories of funny things they say and the trouble they get themselves into. They so much more than count.



Filed Under: adoption realities, Chinese culture, Kelly

next shared list

February 22, 2013 by 1 Comment

The next shared list is scheduled to be released Monday night, February 25th US time, February 26th China time. So exciting for all families waiting to be matched!

Congratulations to all families in the Special Needs program, whether you find your child on shared list, the Special Focus list or an individual agency list… it’s always wonderful when children find their forever family!

If you have recently been matched with your special needs child, please feel free to share your news. We’d love to celebrate with you!



Filed Under: shared list

Our Non-Verbal World {hearing her “it” factor}

February 21, 2013 by 8 Comments

Angie and her husband live in Pennsylvania with their 3 kids (2 bio boys and 1 daughter adopted in July 2011 from china – born with the cutest cleft lip you ever did see). They spend time working on crazy projects, taking far too many pictures and serving God to the best of their abilities.

she has a certain something. a captivating quality that you can’t describe. it must have something to do with such a long period of time relying on non-verbal communication.

she can draw you into a conversation without saying a word.

this small wonder of a girl has taught me so much about everything. but perhaps more than anything else, she constantly teaches me how impatient i am. i want what i want, right now. waiting has never been a strong suit of mine. and just when i thought the adoption process held the cards on “waiting” – it was only prep work for some of the waiting we have done after she arrived home.

of the many surprises i’ve found along this journey of adoption, our non-verbal journey has been one of the most challenging and the most wonderful surprises. it was a part i never considered. i thought about surgeries and doctors visits and a few speech sessions. but i never considered what a constant and often exhausting challenge communication could be. i didn’t know how much more i needed to practice waiting and what a blessing i would find in those long days and months, learning realness of a child who can’t say all of the things they know and feel.

my daughter came home in july of 2011, 2 months later her cleft palate was repaired and 3 months later, her beautiful cleft lip was repaired. though we grieved the loss of her original lips, we hoped speech would soon follow. we hoped she would finally be able to tell us what she needed. when she was hurt or frustrated or excited. i felt exasperated and helpless as she so often screamed to be understood.

“speech will come soon” they all said (“they” being the doctors and therapists and specialists).
so we waited. we used sign language. we invented our own language.

when she didn’t progress further than 5 verbal words, they all said she must have a problem.
“it’s probably apraxia of speech” they said. “she should be genetically tested for unknown disabilities” they said.

it just didn’t feel right. she was healthy, thriving, learning. she was a typical kid in every way. i refused to make her a medical seek and find and i finally decided to pull back from the medical world for a few months and let her be who she would be. if she never spoke, we would just keep on rolling with life and help her find her voice in other ways. but the funniest part? it never felt quiet. it was surprising to me when people asked why she wasn’t talking. my mind would say, “seriously? she just told me she wanted yogurt for lunch. you didn’t hear that?” she and i could hear and understand each other in a way i’ve never experienced. and through all that frustration, all that time holding her while she screamed and i didn’t know why, God was allowing us to be knit together in a unique and special way.

and then november 2012 hit. something clicked. all those words locked up in her brilliant mind came flying out…and ever since we all just trying to keep up with all that she understands and wants us to know. she’s quite the chatterbox.
and although speech isn’t as much of an issue these days, we still use our special language. the one that doesn’t need words. she often tells me what she needs with only a glance.

i can say now that it’s been a sincere blessing to have over a year without words.
yes, frustrating at times…but i see now what it gave us as a family and what it gave my relationship with her.

we have to work hard to understand each other. harder than if language had come instantly. and in that hard work, we found a special blessing of knowing each other in a way that doesn’t need words.
a great many things can be said when no one’s talking.

i really want to know what she will be when she’s all grown up.
what will her determination and specificity produce in the future?

one thing’s for sure…she knows what she wants and she does not give up. never. no matter what.
this can be a frustrating trait when the thing she wants is a candy cane before dinner :) and knowing the best way to harness her determination is tricky. but for the most part, it is an extremely positive trait. one that amazes me to see what she can accomplish.

i have a feeling she will do a great many things.



Filed Under: Angie, cl/cp

Dragons and Snakes

February 17, 2013 by 1 Comment

Xin nian kuai le! Happy Chinese New Year!

A week ago today, we rang in the Year of the Snake (oh joy) with our kiddos. I hung up our paper lanterns, decorated the table with Lunar New Year plates and cups from Pottery Barn Kids (check your nearest store now or the website…items are on sale!), pulled out our fanciest chopsticks purchased in Guangzhou, and gobbled up delicious authentic fair from a local Chinese restaurant. Well, most of the food was authentic. Mainly Caroline’s portions.

We read a few children’s books about the holiday and its history and presented each child with a red envelope containing money. (Caroline made sure we knew about this custom.) I had also found some Chinese character blocks and a beautiful Chinese doll for the younger ones.

I knew that our efforts to celebrate this holiday had touched Caroline when she began taking pictures of everything and asked if she could wear one of my traditional Chinese dresses. (She has outgrown the ones we bought for her in China.) That evening, she asked to call her foster parents whom she had not wanted to contact for many months. When her foster mom answered the call, Caroline exclaimed, “Mommy!” My heart skipped a beat, for several reasons. First, I immediately realized that her greeting came out in English, and she stammered for a second before she could pull the Mandarin equivalent from her memory. Secondly, I almost felt envious that she called her foster mom “mommy.” She has called me “mommy” since Gotcha Day, and I have selfishly believed that I, and I alone, hold that role. However, my daughter’s foster mom was her first consistent caretaker and was a mother to her for seven years. Ultimately, I am thrilled that Caroline has fond memories of her life in China and has finally felt ready to talk with her family again.

I loved hearing the excitement in the voices of her foster parents and brother. I smiled when I heard them calling her “LiYun.” (I still like to call her LiYun around the house but she prefers her American name.) And we laughed when Caroline translated that they noticed she had picked up an accent! There are many Chinese families in our community with whom Caroline speaks in Mandarin, so she has kept up with her language. But apparently she has taken on their dialect!

It was such a wonderful way to welcome a new year, and I hope my Chinese daughters will never become so “Americanized” that they lose interest in celebrating their birth country’s traditions.

Just for fun, check out Pottery Barn Kids’ website for some cool tips on throwing a Lunar New Year party, decorating a dragon, and more. You can even purchase a plush snake. Who wouldn’t want one of those?? If you have pictures or suggestions of your own to share on celebrating this holiday, please post them for all of us to read. I’m always looking for new ideas!



Filed Under: Kelley, older child adoption

All About Love

February 13, 2013 by Leave a Comment

It’s almost Valentine’s Day, so let’s talk about LOVE! One of my favorite subjects!

Some say, “Actions speak louder than words.” In some cases, that may be true. But we must never underestimate the power of words.

When we meet our adopted children for the first time, we always say I love you lots and lots and lots. They may not understand what it means, but we know eventually they WILL understand. We want to make sure they hear us express our love, and so we express it LOTS!

Over the first few months home (and really forever….), we hug them as much as each child will let us, we kiss, we smile, we listen…we do all the love “actions”, but we pair those actions with words of affection, too.

“I love you”

It’s said over and over and over.

Our recently adopted children have been home a little over a year now. Our three year old, Crickett, knows she’s loved! She can hear it. She sees it. And recently, I know she FEELS loved. How do I know?

Well, when she walks in my room, and I smile and give her a wordless hug….she says,

“I love you too, Mommy”

Notice I hadn’t told her, “I love you Crickett”

I didn’t have to.

She felt the love.

Isn’t that precious?

Happy Valentine’s Day, and may you all hear, see, and feel lots of love!!!!!



Filed Under: cl/cp, heart defect, Laine, radial club hand

agency closings

February 12, 2013 by 3 Comments

Two adoption agencies that have been a part of the China Special Needs program – Christian World Adoption and Homeland Adoption Services – have recently announced that they are regretfully closing their doors.

The additional expenses agencies incurred to comply with the Hague Convention, the floundering economy and the recent ban on Russian adoptions have had a negative impact on agencies already struggling with the huge slowdown in China’s Non-Special Needs program.

If you have information to share about additional agency closings, please let us know.



Filed Under: Uncategorized

Adoption from an Older Sibling’s Perspective

February 9, 2013 by 5 Comments

This post is written by Livy, my 16-year-old amazing daughter. She traveled with us both on our first adoption trip to Vietnam to get her now 5 year old brother and sister, Jude and Tess. And 10 months ago to China to get her new baby sister, Mimi, who is 2 years old. All three were special needs adoptions and came with their own unique challenges. Livy is a special young woman. Her heart is huge. But since this is one of the number-one questions I get regarding adoption, I thought it better for her to answer it representing all the children rather than have me answer it for her.

As soon as someone sees our family for the first time their wheels start turning. Especially if we are all out together. We know the questions even before they’re asked. It’s not bad. It just is.

And in the top 5 questions they ask my parents is this one:

“How did your biological/first kids handle it?”

I think this question is largely asked by folks that may have some interest in adopting themselves. Perhaps they are trying to put themselves in our shoes.

What is it like being a teenager with younger adopted siblings?

Our family changed A LOT when Tess and Jude, and now Mimi, came home, and not all in good ways. I will not be shy to admit that much of it was HARD. It was hard for me, it was hard for my parents, and most of all it was hard for the babies. And along with all the hard times also came some really awesome and amazing times. As a family we experienced first steps, first words, first family, and laughter that we never could have imagined months earlier.

Positive aspects of introducing Tess and Jude into the family are:
- We can get away with a lot more now that there is less attention on the bigger kids.
- I get to babysit more, and that is something I love to do!
- The giggles! Nobody could be mad or upset when there is a toddler giggling somewhere in the house.
- Sunny and I finally have someone’s hair to do, nails to paint, and someone to dress up.
- We will have to go to Disneyland again because the babies haven’t been yet.
- Life is NEVER dull. I know now that I’m not the kind of person that sits around on the couch and lets life pass me by, probably because it’s impossible to hear the TV over all the “playing.”
- I am always learning and practicing patience.
- Chubby cheeks. Enough said.
- Those moments when Tess comes in to my room at 7:00am, and I yell “get out” and she replies with, “Sissy, you are such a pretty girl, and you are SO big!” She means well.
- I love when we are out with the kids and someone says, “Are those ALL your siblings?” and I can proudly reply, “Yep! There are 7 of us!
- I learned that later in life I want to work with children as a career.

Some of the negatives are:
- It’s stressful sometimes. There are times in our house when there are multiple cranky children and maybe even a cranky parent (or two). As a family we have had to come up with some new strategies in dealing with times like these. We have implemented “the tap out system.” this is when one of the older kids, or even a parent, can just get away for a bit no questions asked. In a stressful moment I can “tap out” and go to my room to listen to music for 10-15 minutes, and then it all seems way less stressful when I get back.
- My parents worry. They worry about the struggles the little ones will face in a future. This is usually when I come in and remind my mom of her favorite saying, “You can’t change your world just your reaction to it.”
- Money is tighter.
- And of course the obvious one… yes, the older kids do get less attention than before. To cope with this we have learned to spend individual time with our parents later at night. Even if it’s just a quick trip to the grocery store for ice cream. It is always good to be able to tell my dad how my day was.

I have learned so much in the process of adopting. I was lucky enough to go both to Vietnam and China. The trips helped me come out of my box and show me how lucky I am to be living in a tremendous home with plenty of food and a family that loves me. When I went to Vietnam I was only in 7th grade, but there was one thing that I will never forget, one girl, about my age, that changed my life forever. We were walking back from the Notre Dame Cathedral in Saigon. As we crossed the street I saw a girl begging for money, but that wasn’t what was shocking or what stuck with me. This girl had a true smile on her face. Anyone that looked at her could tell that she was honestly just happy to be. She got me thinking, who really cares if you get the best car for your 16th birthday, when your curfew is, or if you have a TV in your bedroom? In the long run those things won’t make a difference. As Tess would say, “We are family, and that means we love each other forever no matter what.” And that’s what really matters.

Luv,
Livy the unstoppable


Filed Under: clubfoot, developmental delays, Nancy

Hepatitis B: It’s an Easy Special Need…Except When It’s Not

February 7, 2013 by 7 Comments

If you ever check out special needs adoption forums, one of the most commonly asked questions, certainly in the top 5, goes something like this: Which special needs are EASY?

It’s an honest question and one that parents who’ve experienced raising children with different special needs have tried to answer. I’ve jumped in many times to advocate for kids with Hepatitis B. It’s generally a very manageable special need and one that’s not associated with extensive surgeries or therapies or restrictions. These kids appear totally healthy and usually just need a blood test and doctor visit a couple of times a year. I feel very confident telling a prospective parent that a child with Hep B will most likely be just fine.

However, I do worry sometimes when I read claims that the Hepatitis B virus is “nothing” or that it’s no more a challenge than near-sightedness or that it’s “just a bug.” If a parent has perceived it that way with their child, wonderful. But it’s as impossible to make a blanket statement that every case of Hep B will be easy as it is to suggest that every heart murmur will be easy. Some will be, some definitely won’t.

I’ve been in the Hep B world for nearly 6 years and in those 6 years, I’ve seen some kids who’ve been at the extreme end of the spectrum. Kids with cirrhosis, kids who have to wait until they’re neurologically mature enough to handle a heavy-duty drug like interferon, kids with mutations that are difficult to treat, kids who need frequent monitoring for liver cancer. None of those things are typical, but they happen. And for that small minority of kids, they require expert attention. Since pediatric Hep B is thankfully uncommon in the U.S., there aren’t many doctors who are experienced seeing it, let alone treating it. There are currently only 5 doctors in the United States that the Hepatitis B Foundation considers pediatric Hep B experts. Some parents fly their kids to their appointments.

Would I discourage Hep B adoption? Not at all! It’s a common special need in Asia and these kids will usually do fantastic. But, even 6 years later, I can still remember the shock of our first appointment home in the United States. My 11 month-old daughter had worrisome labs. The doctor mentioned interferon, something I’d heard was almost never used. She wanted to see her frequently. I thought it would be just once a year. She’d be performing a liver biopsy on her in a few months. Like with a needle? I stammered, “I thought she was just a carrier?” The doctor then asked me what I meant by carrier. I honestly had no idea, I’d just heard the term on a forum and liked the sound of it. Anything with the qualifying word “just”, couldn’t be so bad, right? So when the doctor asked for clarification, I bumbled through this explanation: “Well, being a carrier means that she has this, but it’s just there. It’s not, you know, hurting her.” Our doctor, whose bluntness I later learned to respect, said, “If she were older, she’d qualify for treatment now. Her liver enzymes are double what they should be. Her viral load is over 8 billion. Every day she has this, it’s hurting her.”

So, while we advocate for those precious kids who have a special need that’s captured our hearts, we’re doing the prospective parents no favors by downplaying or ignoring the unlikely, but still possible. Give them the straight scoop and then encourage them that if they feel so inspired to adopt a child with this special need, they’ll love them and be able to handle the easy, which they’ll probably have, or the hard, which is out there too.


Filed Under: Eileen, HepB+

Finding Mommy

February 5, 2013 by 3 Comments

When I adopted my son in 2010, I did the “marathon tour” of Beijing before heading to his province to finalize his adoption. (Which I recommend all adoptive parents do at least once, by the way. It’s a huge insight into your child’s birth culture.) Included somewhere in that two-day blur of sight-seeing, our group visited Tiananmen Square. During the 30 minutes or so I had to wander around Tiananmen, the one thing I noticed on the face of all the Chinese people was national pride. And it occurred to me on that day I needed to instill not only an American pride in my son…and later daughter…but a Chinese pride as well. Thankfully, I fell so in love with China on that trip it hasn’t been a challenge.

Not long ago, our family sprawled out in our living area to watch the (newest) Karate Kid movie together. And since it was filmed in Beijing, I took the opportunity to generate excitement through the movie. Letting my kids know that is really THE Beijing airport and I’ve had people waiting there with signs for me, too. I stayed in a hotel across the street from that building, or I rode in a taxi like that one or toured that place. And since Cora was fostered in Beijing for the three and a half years prior to us adopting her, I tried to include her in the excitement. Reliving her preschool field trips with her, or even pointing out that the Kung Fu master Mr. Han’s house had a courtyard like “Cora’s house in China”. I thought it would be a fun, exciting thing for her. Instead, I got a lot of head shakes along with “No like it there.” and “Cora no like it.” There was one scene that Cora did like, though. The train ride. When the aerial view of a train following the tracks through China appeared on the screen, I followed my tradition and excitedly announced that Cora had ridden trains in China. And she took it from there.

It was amazing how quickly her face lit up and her speech became animated. My baby girl came to life as she told the story of riding the train to find Mommy and recounted the train ride from her foster home in Beijing to her home province, followed by the details of our “Gotcha” Day. The funny thing is, though, while her details were fairly accurate they didn’t line up with mine at all.

My “Gotcha” Day story is a hard one. Meeting an unaffectionate little girl who was trying so hard to stay strong. Watching the tears slowly begin to fall. Then it reaching the point that I had to literally pick my screaming, kicking, crying child up off the floor of Civil Affairs and carry her screaming, kicking self out of the building to hail a cab back to our hotel. I was rejected. Then I was tolerated. And finally I was loved. But it was a journey. A journey that involved help from our social worker, videos and stacks of books on attachment, support from family and friends, hours on my knees in prayer, and a lot of sacrifice on my part. Cora’s “Gotcha” Day story is totally different from mine. Hers is the story of a little girl who set out on a great search to find her Mommy. Of a little girl who was giddy with excitement when she did finally find her Mommy. She remembers the events, but the emotional climate she has built around that day isn’t correct. Is it possible she really felt excitement in coming to “find” her mama but those feelings were hidden deep down under the emotions of the day? Or is her story perhaps based on her current feelings for me…not the feelings she actually had for me then? I can’t tell at this point.

But I remember so clearly sitting in our hotel room only hours after I had taken custody of Cora and watching her take a nap. She had fallen asleep in a chair, still wearing her coat, with a lollipop in her mouth while she was coloring. I was relieved to finally have a chance to take a break from pouring myself out on a child that hated me, and to grieve the fact that I had been rejected so thoroughly. In those few quiet moments I had before she woke up screaming even worse than before, I could have never fathomed that only a few short months later she would follow me from room to room in the house cheering “Mommy, I found you!” Or with love for me written all over her face, tell me about the day she rode a train to find me. After all, I’m the one who traveled halfway around the world to find her.



Filed Under: heart defect, Tara