Hi Friends!

Summer in the USA came and went and it was a big one. I gave myself permission not to blog because I just wanted to soak up all the precious moments with family and friends and not feel like I had to write about it. Thanks for your understanding!

But now we’re back, and I need to get back into the writing habit. I even made myself a Wide Awake “Editorial Calendar” for all the Wide Awake social media. Now just to stick to it… I really do want you all to be informed and aware of what’s going on in these parts, so let’s see how I do!

By the way, if you want to find Wide Awake in other places we are on:

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/wide_awake_international/  and

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HeartsWideAwake/

Summer was so great. We had a wonderful time in Oregon with family and friends. It was super fun to introduce our little Evie to everyone, and to just BE with so many people we love. Vladik had his surgery on his feet and it went just as the surgeon hoped it would go. We still don’t really know how helpful it was because Vlad is still recovering, but we are hopeful that in the long run, as he grow, it will help him to have less pain in his feet. He was in a wheelchair for 6 weeks, then in walking boots for 2 weeks, but now he’s up and at ’em again. I don’t think he’s running yet, but he’s walking just fine! He’s a trooper.

The highlights of everyone’s summer had to be time with family. Jed’s family came from Montana and met us at the Oregon coast for a few days and it was soooooo nice to all be together. The weather cooperated, which was a miracle, and we got to spend a lot of time down on the beach. Yay!

Then my parents took all of us and my brothers and their families to Disneyland, and it was, of course, magical! I LOVE DISNEYLAND, FYI. We happened to be there for Vladik’s 18th birthday and my brother arranged for him to meet Lightning McQueen. Oh.my.word. It was such a wonderful memory!! We just had the best time. It was perfection.

Some of our most generous friends let us stay with them all summer and that was a great experience. They have 4 kids, we have 6…no big deal. Ha! It actually worked out better than any of us imagined. Everyone got along, the kids had tons of built-in playmates all summer, and when we left we all still loved each other- so I call that success!

We launched back into life here in Ukraine a couple weeks ago and it feels like the summer was a dream…like we never actually left!  Boris did well while we were gone and Kenny and Romana did a fantastic job with him. We picked back up with him right where we left off. Boris doesn’t love transition (wink wink), but he’s doing okay, all things considered. He has his great moments and his rough moments. Don’t we all? 🙂

The kids start back to school on Monday, so this week is all about prepping for that and getting summer loose ends all tied up. Then we turn our eyes toward bringing Anton and Ruslan into our family. Jed already has guardianship of them; the documents are all completed. We just thought it was wisdom to get settled and get the kids in school again before bringing Anton and Ruslan home. That is going to be a HUGE transition for all of us. (I feel like I’m always saying that, by the way)

So that’s where things stand at the moment.

We had an awesome summer. We got our love tanks filled up and we’re ready to venture into a new season as a family of ELEVEN! Jesus take the wheel… 🙂

Tomorrow a big chunk of the Wide Awake Family heads to the US! We’re leavin’ on a jet plane… 🙂

It has been two years since our last visit, so it’s time. We try to visit Oregon every two years to see family, meet with our Board of Directors face to face, and spend time with our friends and supporters in the Pacific Northwest.

Another big purpose of this trip is to do reconstructive surgery on Vladik’s feet. We had planned to do the surgery when we were last in the US, but at that time Vladik was not ready for such a major procedure. He’ll be wheelchair-bound for 8 weeks after the surgery, and at that time he didn’t have the understanding or emotional maturity to not be devastated by that. Now he is so much more mature in every way. He is ready and wants the surgery. He is also getting taller and heavier and walking is getting more and more painful for him. We just need to bite the bullet and get ‘er done.

I (Kim) leave for the US tomorrow with 5 of the 6 kids. We’ll get Vladik’s pre-op stuff done, and Jed will follow in June. Ezra will stay in Ukraine this month with Jed to help him care for Boris. At the end of May Jed and Ezra will go to South Africa for the World Congress for Occupational Therapy. Jed and Olya, our friend and OT, will present the interns’ work at Romaniv to the Congress. More on that in a later post!

Evie’s going to miss her big brother this month! 

Although we successfully got Boris a visitor visa to the US, we have decided the best thing for Boris is to stay home at the Homestead. A trip of such magnitude would be very difficult for him. He thrives on routine and familiar surroundings, and there will be nothing routine or familiar about our summer in the US. It is so hard for us to leave him. I shed quite a few tears over it, knowing that he wouldn’t fully understand where we all went. 🙁 But at the same, I realize that it would not be kind to bring him along. Our hearts are officially at home in two places and there’s just nothing easy about that. Seriozha (Jed’s assistant) and his wife, Romana, will live at the Homestead with Boris for the summer so he can be in his home with all his favorite things. If you could pray for them for wisdom in caring for Boris, and also for peace in Boris’ heart while we are away, that would be so great. Thank you!

Side note: Boris’ visa is a 10-year multiple entry visa, so maybe we can bring him with us in a couple of years when we visit again!

So, that’s the Wide Awake summer plans. While we are traveling to and fro the team and interns will continue to visit the Boys at the institution regularly, just like always. The construction crew will work on developing the new land at the Homestead and preparing it for the next homes to be built, and Boris will be safe at home with people who love him. It’s awesome to know all the work will continue while we’re away. That leaves us the ability to focus on getting Vladik healthy, the opportunity to rest with family, the chance to connect with sponsors, and the time to dream and plan with our Board.

Gettin’ the garden ready for planting

Thank you all for your incredible love and support of our family and this work. Knowing that people are praying and sharing and giving of their hearts and finances makes all of this possible.

On Sunday we had quite the scary experience. We had been at church, picked up some groceries, and arrived back at home. Seth was helping Boris get out of the van and Boris, for whatever reason, didn’t try to step out of the van at all, but just leaned all of his body weight on unprepared Seth. Boris fell backward and hit the ground- head first with a loud thunk/crack/give.me.a.heart.attack. I screamed (loudly) for Jed and he rushed out to scoop Boris up in his arms. It was so scary. It makes my stomach ache just remembering that moment.

Boris turned out to be fine. Thank you Jesus!  Since he is nonverbal and couldn’t tell us anything about how he was feeling, we decided it was best to take him straight to the hospital after the fall to get him checked out. All the questions about blurry vision or pain or feeling confused were irrelevant since Boris doesn’t speak.  I found myself watching him constantly for any sign of discomfort or any irregularities. He seemed a bit “off” that day and the next, but since then has been totally himself. We are so thankful.

In those moments after the fall his vulnerability slapped me in the face. In those moments my empathy for him grew by leaps and bounds. I realized again just how incredibly vulnerable Boris is. He can’t verbalize his needs or wants. He can’t cook or prepare his own food. He can’t get to the toilet without help. He can’t get his clothes on and off without help. He can’t bathe himself. He can only walk very short distances. He relies on us for absolutely everything – 100% of the time.

We don’t know if Boris was able to do more things independently in his early years, before he came to the institution. But we do know that for the past 19 years at the institution he was 100% reliant on others to meet his needs. He was completely at the mercy of the institution’s staff. He relied on them for food, drink, cleanliness, safety- he could do nothing for himself. He was completely vulnerable and had to entrust himself into their hands, because he had no choice. But the ones who were meant to meet all of those needs let him down. He wasn’t safe. He wasn’t clean. He was chronically dehydrated and his body was emaciated and twisted from neglect. Because of lack of resources, lack of staff, and an environment that does not value life, he suffered. He suffered so greatly for many years. The neglect and abuse he has seen is more than any human should ever have to endure. My heart breaks.

Then one day, 4 months ago, Boris was plucked out of that environment and had no choice but to entrust himself to others: us. As vulnerable as ever, he came to us broken and afraid. Life has not taught him that people are to be trusted. Life has taught him that he has to fight and manipulate to make sure his needs are met.  Boris didn’t know our intentions, and maybe he still doesn’t fully know them, but because of his physical and mental limitations, he must put his trust in us. He is completely vulnerable. He has no other choice.

This morning I was helping Boris to put his dirty clothes in the hamper. He did an awesome job and I was so proud of him! In that proud and happy moment I reached up to give him a high five and he flinched. He thought I was going to hit him and all the happiness of the moment flew out of the room. Oh my heart. He had so much fear on his face. So I tried to repair the moment. I told him how much I love him, I told him how smart he is, how special he is…I kissed his face and hugged his neck. But the peacefulness of the morning was ruined. He went back into his place of fear. Self-harm was again the order of the day.  I took him outside to wait for our neighbor to take him for his morning walk. I brought Bluebell (our dog) over for comfort, put his weighted blanket on his lap, turned on some of his favorite music, and after a few minutes he was smiling at me again. He again entrusted himself to me. What a precious, brave soul.

What will we do with the trust Boris gives to us? How will we care for him in his moments of greatest vulnerability? Will we shush him and brush him off even when we see that he is trying to communicate something, or will we take the moment to be patient and try to understand? Will we get irritated when he self-harms, or will we choose compassion and again help him to keep himself safe? Will we become victims to our own life decisions, or will we recognize what an honor it is to care for him and take part in his healing?

I want to always remember what an incredible honor and privilege it is to be the ones who get to care for Boris. We get to teach him a new way. We get to show him that people can be loving. Hands can be for hugs and gentleness. Words can be spoken in love and patience. What joy to watch him learn that there will always be enough to eat. He will always have a place at the table. He will always have a daddy there to scoop him up when he falls. He will always have brothers and sisters to push him on the swing. He will always have a safe, warm place to sleep. Every time we serve Boris we show him a new way. We hold his vulnerable heart in our hands and we care for his vulnerable body. It isn’t always easy, but if we keep our hearts open it will always be beautiful.

Boris is so incredibly strong. His body may be weak, but to have endured the life he has been given and still choose to smile, still choose to love, still choose to accept love from others… I have so much to learn.

There is no doubt in my mind that people like Boris will be the ones at the head of that big feasting table in heaven. The weakest among us has become my hero.

I remember that night as clear as day. I remember the night we drove to the institution, knowing only that one little boy was dying and we had to do something about it.

He was new to the institution, having arrived the week before from the baby house. He was sick upon arrival and was quickly sent to the hospital. The hospital said there was nothing they could do for him: “His brain is dying”. So they promptly sent him back to the institution to die. We had seen him just the day before, and although we had never met before and had no baseline, we didn’t think he looked too concerning. I’m an RN with many years of experience and I never would have imagined that the next night he would be on his deathbed. He looked pale, stiff, eyes with circles under them from exhaustion, but many of our boys look like that and they are not actively dying. I thought he looked fragile, but I did not fear for his life.

The first day we met

I was wrong. Because now that I know this precious, precious boy I can look back and see how very ill he was that night. He was a shell of a boy. His body was there, but his soul was just barely hanging on. The boy we saw that day should have frightened the heck out of me. He was oh so sick. We just didn’t know.

Late at night, the day after we first met him I was contacted by some ministry friends who told me that he was dying and the nannies didn’t expect him to live through the night. I was shocked. What???  I just saw him! How can this be? A few of us from the team rushed to the institution late in the night to see if there was anything at all that could be done to save his life.

It was a fight. It was a battle I’ll never forget. I remember standing on the sidewalk outside the Isolation Hall. All around us was dark, save the moon above us, the four of us were discussing/arguing about what to do next. We were panicked and knew time was not on our side. In the end, we had to pull connections at the very top of the Ukrainian government to get our boy to the hospital. But, God made the way and to the hospital, he went. From the local hospital, he went to a regional hospital, then to a hospital in Kyiv- creating waves at every stop.

His story reached many people all over Ukraine. Top Dogs in the Ukrainian government took a big interest in his story and a fight for life became no longer just about him- but he began to represent the thousands just like him: forgotten, neglected, deemed unworthy, deemed a waste of time and resources. News stories were broadcast and people rose up in outrage. This little boy whose life was miraculously saved that night in a rural institution became a type of poster child for orphan reform. His life became a voice for the voiceless.

In the hospital in Kyiv

Eventually our little one, we’ll call him “Preston” was released from the hospital and went to live with a sweet family from our church- an older mom and her two adult daughters. The plan was that he would live with them for a short time while his birth mom decided what she wanted to do: take him home, or sign away her rights and release him for adoption (returning him to institutional care was never an option any of us considered). The weeks turned into months and the months turned into a year, and the family fell in love. Preston has become a member of the family and he loves them just as much as they treasure him. And oh, how he has thrived in the light of their love.

The time has now come- the time we anticipated and dreaded all at once. The time has come to find our Preston a forever family outside of Ukraine. Mom decided that she is just not able to give him the care that he needs and deserves and she has signed away her rights. Our sweet in-between family, as much as they adore Preston, recognize that he will never be able to live up to his full potential here in Ukraine. He needs therapy and medical attention that is simply unavailable here. They cry just talking about me writing this blog post, but they love him enough to let him go.

So, I’m turning to all of you, asking for help. The time has come to find the family that is perfectly suited for our boy. I am absolutely confident that they are out there.

Let me tell you more about Preston. He is 7 years old and has lived most of his life in a family. He lived with his mother and father until they felt they couldn’t care for him anymore, and then he spent a year and a half in institutional care before moving to live with the foster family. Because of that, he does not have the institutional behaviors you see in our boys at Romaniv. He has endured trauma, there is no doubt about that, but he has also known the love of a family and has been very well-loved at that!

Preston has Cerebral Palsy and this is his great challenge. He is not able to sit up, stand, or walk independently- but he sure wants to! He tries to mimic people and say words but does not speak fluently. He is not toilet trained at this time. His muscles just do not listen well to his brain, so his ability to feed himself or do much independently is limited. He is so smart. He understands everything and knows what he does and doesn’t want. Don’t let his disability trick you- he is fully alive in there and I can’t wait to see what he has to say once he is given more ways to communicate. Other than his CP diagnosis, he is a fairly healthy boy. He gets the occasional respiratory infection, but he is growing and developing in a healthy manner.

He wants to stand and walk so badly!

Preston enjoys cars, trucks and toys of all kinds. He needs some help to play with them, but he does like to play. He loves to watch cartoons and color…he enjoys age-appropriate activities, he just needs help in order to engage. His arms move unpredictably and the spastic nature of his CP makes intentional movement extremely difficult. He absolutely needs consistent therapy.  Preston is social and likes to be with people. He is firmly attached to his current family and it’s easy to see how he loves them. He prefers them over anyone else and cries when he is separated from them. He even sleeps in their arms! I told you he is well-loved. 🙂

Preston is now available for international adoption and we are actively seeking a family. This adoption will be different than any other Ukrainian adoption I know of because Preston will be adopted while living in his current family- not from an institution. The high-ups in the government who personally care about him have worked to make that exception possible. The adoptive family will be well-supported in Ukraine as many, many people have a very personal interest in Preston and his well-being. He is loved by many. The Ukrainian portion of the adoption will be well-supported by the government. The current family is an absolute wealth of knowledge and would love to be a support to the adoptive family in whatever ways the family wants.  In other words, if you step off the ledge for this one you will not be alone. We are here for you and our love for Preston compels us to do anything and everything we can to make his adoption a success.

Saying yes to adopting Preston is no small decision. He will require a lot of care- especially in the beginning as he will be separated from everyone he loves. His care is physically demanding too. He’s getting to be a big boy and he can not care for himself at this point.

But, oh the joy. Oh.the.joy!

Out of the many thousands of children in institutions all over Ukraine, God chose this one. He plucked Preston from his deathbed in the dead of night from an institution in the middle of nowhere and saved his life. He was mere hours away from dying- this beautiful, amazing, smart, happy boy was almost lost to us. But no. God saw him and acted. God has used Preston’s life to be a voice for others and I believe He will continue to do that.

He is one special boy and I have no doubt that his adoptive family will be blessed beyond measure by his life.

Will you help share him with the world?  Please share this post and please pray about your own response. Are you the family that is missing their son?

You can view Preston’s profile on an adoption advocacy site here.

If you have any questions about Ukrainian adoption in general, or more specific questions about Preston you can email me at kjohnson@wideawakeinternational.org and I will be happy to talk with you. Videos can be made available to interested families. 

Can you believe our sweet Evie Joy is one month old today?! In the past I’ve not been a fan of the newborn phase and have wished it away in search of more sleep. But these days I find myself wishing for time to slow down. Our precious Evangeline is just the sweetest little thing and I know she needs to be our last, so I want time to sloooooow down so we can savor every bit of her baby-ness. Sometimes it feels like no one in the world could ever love their baby the way I love this baby. She is such an incredible gift.

I promised I would share about the experience of our only Ukrainian birth, so here I am, as promised, attempting to write it out. This is a tricky one. I don’t want to sound at all like the US system is SOOOOO much better, or like the way it’s done in the US is the only right way. Because honestly, I don’t believe that. I think the US medical system has a lot going for it (ie…money), but I definitely don’t think there is only one correct way to do things. So, even though I can’t pretend the US is the only right way, it is the only way I know. It’s where I was trained.  It’s where I worked for 13 years. And it’s where all my other babies were born. You only know what you know. 🙂

The following is my experience. It’s what I felt and saw and lived. It may be different than another’s experience, but it’s mine. So take it for what it’s worth.

Evie’s entrance to the world was planned for a Monday.  It was a scheduled c-section, and my fourth (which is pretty rare here), so the doctor had me spend the last few nights of my pregnancy in the hospital in case I were to go into labor in the night. We had previously purchased all the supplies for the c-section at the pharmacy across the street and had them in a duffle bag at the ready. A nurse came in to my room the night before the c-section and said “Okay, you have a c-section tomorrow.  Tonight you need to give yourself an enema, and then give yourself another one in the morning.” Uh…hold the phone. Things were about to get real. Hehe. I’m no stranger to enemas (never thought I’d write that! Ha!). I’ve given a lot of enemas in my day. But I’ve never given one to myself– especially when the only toilet available was a communal toilet down the hall! Yeah, that was tricky. Let’s just say I don’t wish a shared bathroom enema experience on any of you.

The list of anesthesia supplies for Jed to buy on the morning of surgery

The next morning Jed arrived around 8:30 and we waited for the party to start. Unfortunately, it didn’t start out too great. A grumpy nurse was on duty and was telling us all these instructions that we didn’t understand.  Something about Jed taking all the surgery stuff somewhere and me waiting in my room, but we were sure the doctor had told me to go with Jed… We were all confused and she was annoyed at our lack of understanding and I started crying and it was a bit of a mess. To be fair, I was totally freaked out and hormonal and it probably wasn’t a truly cry-worthy scenario. I’ll own that. 🙂

So Jed was gone to who-knows-where with the supplies and I was sitting on my bed, crying, waiting for someone to come and tell me what to do. After a bit, a super kind lady came and took me through back hallways and staff elevators to where the surgery would take place. The staff elevators are so interesting! Each elevator has an older lady sitting in it whose job is to operate the elevator and make sure no unauthorized person uses it. Each tiny elevator has a chair and a little table in it where the operator sits and drinks her tea, waiting for the next customer. Fascinating. Anyway, my guide saw I was crying and did her best to calm my fears. “I’ve worked here 30 years!  Everything will be fine. Don’t cry or your baby will cry! Everything is fine. Today you meet your baby!” She was a sweetie, but I could not stop crying! Geez Louise. I think all the worrying of the last 9 months had just built up and spilled out in that moment. I was a mess until I saw my wonderful doctor. She is the mom of our dear Kenny, and her presence totally calmed me.  Instantly. She put her arm around me and the familiarity of her just made all the difference.  I was never so thankful that we had chosen a non-stranger to deliver our baby.

They brought me to a room with a bed and a changing table. Jed was there! They had Jed change into clean, comfy clothes and laid out all the supplies we had brought for the baby. Directly across the hall was the operating room. The plan was that as soon as the baby was delivered they would take her across the hall, assess her, and then put her on Jed’s chest, skin to skin, while they finished operating on me.  I can’t tell you how it eased my mind to see where Jed would be with the baby and to know he would instantly be with her.  I absolutely loved that plan. High five Ukraine!

Everything laid out and ready for Evie’s big debut

Then they sorted through our duffel, digging out all the supplies we had bought for anesthesia and the operation, and took them across the hall to the OR (YIKES… goodbye sterile field…I tried to not think about that too hard…).  Then it was goodbye Jed, and off I went to have a baby! It was so strange that he couldn’t be with me. It was the only birth I’ve ever experienced without him.

The anesthesiologist numbed me up and then, before I knew it, we had a baby! They pulled Evie out and the anesthesiologist, who spoke a little English said “Gel, gel!”  I was like “Girl?  Did you say girl?” Then my doctor announced in Russian that we had a girl and the tears started flowing again. A girl!!!  Wahoooooooo!  We totally wanted a girl but were afraid to get our hopes up.  Evie cried right away.  They showed her to me super briefly and then took her straight to Jed. I just lay there crying tears of joy and wondering about Jed’s reaction to our perfect little baby. Jed said that he was pacing back and forth outside the operating room waiting for news when he heard a cry.  Then some random lady came out into the hall and just matter-of-factly said “Girl” in Russian and walked away. Hahahahaha. Hilarious. I have to say that the surgery itself seemed no different to me than my previous c-sections in the US. Everyone was very professional and I felt like I was in really good hands. Again, high-five Ukraine!

The light showing a surgery in progress- eeeek!

Evie (who had no name at the time) was with Jed and I was moved up to a recovery room. After about an hour there they brought Jed and Evie up to me. I was to stay the first night in that room with Evie, but Jed wasn’t allowed to stay.  There really wasn’t any room for him there anyway. There was just a bed and then some old equipment stored in the corner. I’ll be honest, that night was the most miserable of my life.  It felt about a million hours long. I was in a bed that had to stay totally flat (it didn’t raise anyway) with zero pillows and no side rails, and Evie was with me in bed.  Try breast-feeding a few-hours-old newborn while lying flat on your back with no pillows and no help. Yeah, tricky is putting it lightly- and this wasn’t my first rodeo! A few hours into the night a nurse came in and said “You need to start turning from side to side.” I knew I needed to start moving a bit.  I knew it was important and I didn’t want to lay only on my back. But I had just been cut open and now I was supposed to get over onto my side with no pillows and no side rails and no help and with a baby in my arms! It was quite a feat, but somehow I managed without dropping the baby on the floor. Hehe. I think I deserve a prize. Another strange thing about that night was there was no call light. Soooo if I needed help I just had to wait for someone to come check on me or yell. I preferred to just wait and silently will them to come by my room.  Luckily I had no emergencies. 😉 There was also no curtain and my door was open wide to the hall all night. Hello world! No high five for that experience. It was kind of terrible.

The next morning I had to show I could get up out of the bed and then once Jed arrived they allowed me to be moved to a regular room. Hurray! We had paid for a private room so that Jed could stay with me and Evie at night. I’m so glad we did! The room had an entry area with a couch where Jed slept, a little mini fridge, and a microwave. Then through a doorway was a changing table, a bed for me, and a bathroom with a toilet, sink, and shower. It was a really good setup. A nurse and doctor would come see us in the morning and in the evening and that was it, unless I asked for pain medicine. No one ever came in at night. So interesting! They really kept a much looser eye on us than after a c-section in the US. They took my vital signs twice a day and had me take Evie’s temperature twice a day.  They would just ask me if her temp was normal if she was eating, and what color her poop was- the basics. 🙂 Since I knew what I was doing I actually really appreciated being left alone. But, I think if I had been a first-time mom I would have been a bit freaked.

The food situation was interesting.  We learned that I needed to have my own set of dishes if I wanted food. Every morning, midday, and evening someone would come along, knock on the door and say “Breakfast!” or “Dinner!” and I would need to take my dishes to the hallway where a lady with a cart would give me soup and tea. Each day, three times a day it was like a chicken broth with carrots, potatoes, and a little buckwheat or other grain in it. Jed would bring me food from home to supplement the meals. Each day a doctor would tell me what different foods I could add to my diet.  But she was clear on a few things: No fresh fruits or vegetables (only cooked), no fried foods, nothing sweet the first two days (not even sugar in my tea), and nothing red. My doctor was so sweet. She brought me homemade soup from her house, compote (stewed fruit juice) from her home, and some tea cookies that I could have on the third day. Her thoughtfulness really meant so much to me. I’ll be honest though, I totally didn’t stick to their food rules. I just did what we do in the US and ate what I felt like eating. Shhhh…that’s our secret.

There was no wifi at the hospital and I don’t care for Ukrainian TV, so I listened to a lot of podcasts, read some, and mostly just rested and marveled over our sweet baby.  The hospital was on quarantine because of a lot of sickness in our city, so no visitors were allowed- only Jed. He spent a few hours at home (mostly to help care for Boris) every morning and evening, so I had a lot of time just alone with Evie.  It was a completely different experience than my previous births when we had loads of visitors and family members and American TV and wifi and all that.  It was much quieter and simpler. I missed my parents so bad, and it was a little sad at times, mostly when Evie was so cute and I had no one to show her off to, but it was mostly really beautiful and special. The simplicity of it was peaceful and I needed that. We had 5 days in the hospital and it was just the right amount of time.

Hurray! One month old!

The main differences I can point out between my birth experiences on both sides of the ocean:

1. Pain Control. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. The big push after a c-section in the US is to get the mom on oral pain meds as soon as possible. At the hospital where I worked that usually included a combo of Tylenol, Ibuprofen, and Oxycodone. That has worked like a dream for me in the past. But, alas, it was not to be in Ukraine. From the first day post-op, I was only given pain meds via a big ol’ shot in the behind. Oral pain meds were not an option. The only med I was given after the first day was a med similar to Toradol (kind of like a shot of Ibuprofen). It was given every 8ish hours, when I asked for it (not scheduled), and not at all at night. Did I already say ouch? ‘Cause, ouch. 🙁
2. Call Lights. The Recovery Room and our regular room had no call lights. It was fine for me, but I always wondered what would happen in case of an emergency???  The nurse in me kinda wanted to freak out over that.
3. Security. In the US, in the hospital where I worked, every patient has a name band and every baby has a name band and the numbers match each other.  Each newborn also has a security band that alarms if they are removed from the postpartum floor.  Before giving any medications the nurse has to scan the armband and then scan the barcode on the med and all of that jazz.  In Ukraine, I had no armband, no patient identifier at all.  Evie had a little paper band on her ankle the first day. No one ever checked my identity or anything. I imagine that’s how things used to be in the US, but I never experienced patient care like that as a nurse. Interesting.

There’s so much more I could write, but those are the main things that stand out. My only real complaint is regarding the pain control. My recovery could gotten a much quicker start if I had better pain control, but such is life. I survived. 🙂 I will say that in general, I had a great hospital experience. It far surpassed what I imagined it would be. The staff were kind, and reassuring when I had freak-out moments. They were waaaaaay more hands-off than in the US, but when I did need something they were quick to respond. My doctor was fantastic and I have nothing but good things to say about her. Sure the conditions weren’t as fancy-schmancy and there weren’t any amenities to speak of (ie. room service, massages, lactation consultants, wifi), but I had what I needed, and besides that first night I never felt like I was lacking care.

Thanks to everyone who prayed for us throughout the pregnancy and on the day of delivery.  We are truly blessed by our sweet girl and I’m super relieved to have all that surgery business behind me!

We’re settling into a new state of semi-normal here at the Homestead.  Grammy and Papa (Jed’s parents) are still here with us for the next few weeks and OH.MY.WORD. I don’t know what we would be doing if they weren’t here.  I can’t even imagine- nor do I want to try! They have been such a huge help and blessing! I’m just not letting myself think past the time when they have to leave…or I might hyperventilate. We’ll cross that bridge later.

Evie is the most peaceful sweet baby. She rarely cries…and maybe that has something to do with the fact that she’s never actually put down. Hello Baby Number 7! But really, she is a great eater, a great sleeper and she is easily consoled. Everyone is in love with Evie and she like balm to our hearts. Vladik and Boris don’t seem terribly interested in her, but they have had zero experience with babies so i’m curious to see if they develop an interest in her as she grows and becomes more interactive.

Boris seems to be settling in again and we are breathing a big sigh of relief. That was a rough one, Folks. We got home from the hospital and it was like we had to start at the beginning all over again, but with a deficit. He was frantic, didn’t know what he wanted, was self-injuring worse than ever before and was just overall struggling with a capital S. We know that transitions are hard for Boris and we know that there is so much going on that he probably doesn’t understand. We can say that we understand why he is struggling, and even empathize, but the moment by moment, day by day of helping him overcome is WOW.HARD.WORK. Many tears have been shed (on my part) and many prayers of patience have been uttered (on Jed’s part). All of Boris’ care falls on Jed as I’m recovering, and Jed has been a total rock star, but never have we needed Jesus more. We are nothing without Him, and sure enough, Jesus is coming through for us. He is giving us wisdom and it seems He is granting Boris some peace. We can see the light!  Things are getting better! Thanks for praying.  Please keep it up! We need it and Boris needs it. His poor little face is so bruised right now. God, give us wisdom.

Boris likes the pressure of legs on him to help keep him safe 🙂

It’s interesting how a change in perspective can really make or break things. Last week, when Boris’ struggles were at their peak, I was so sad and so very frustrated. I was thinking (and this is where I get real honest) “Here we brought home a new baby, this should be the most joyous time and Boris is stealing all the joy! Jed can’t even enjoy Evie because Boris demands every second of his time.” I was struggling with resentment, and in the worst moments, even some regret. But then I started to notice something.  Every night Jed fell into bed, exhausted from a day of caregiving and creative thinking and love giving and behavior managing and took little Evie in his arms. I could see how her presence, her sweet baby smells and sounds were bringing healing to Jed’s heart.  I sat there and watched the refreshing happen right in front of my eyes. She is like medicine for our weary souls. I’m realizing that God gave us precious Evie for just this moment. He gave us what we didn’t know we would need. Boris isn’t stealing the joy of Evie, Evie is bringing a special joy that our family needs to help us love Boris better. It’s all about perspective. How miraculous that God planned this ahead of time- He knew and planned the exact timing of Boris’ arrival into our family and Evie’s arrival into our family. The timing of both arrivals could seem inconvenient when you look with just human eyes, but the timing is actually quite miraculous. Our God doesn’t miss a thing. We are thankful.

On another note, I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to write about Romaniv for such a long time. The institution has had a quarantine for several weeks (teams are not allowed to visit) and it will extend at least until the end of the month. We have been delivering diapers, but have not been able to visit the boys. I want so badly to be able to give you news on the boys you love so much, but unfortunately, quarantine combined with the end of my pregnancy has made any updates impossible. Hopefully, quarantine will end soon and we can be back in action with our boys! I’ll keep you posted on that.

Happy Monday, All. May our perspectives that need shifting shift today. May we see our circumstances in the light of Jesus’ love and in light of eternity. Jesus is worth it all.

BeLOVE[d]

Last week our sweet Evangeline Joy made her appearance and we couldn’t be happier. She is already bringing us so much joy.  She is like a sweet balm on our hearts.

More to come later, but I realized that I didn’t share her arrival on the blog, and I thought you all would want to know!  Thank you for your prayers for a safe delivery and a healthy baby. Everything went smoothly and Evie is perfection.

We would sure appreciate your continued prayers for Boris. Jed and I were gone at the hospital several days last week and the transition has been difficult for him. One step forward, lots of steps back…sigh. The long road to healing can feel extra long some days. Please pray for Boris’ heart to find peace, for our other kiddos to have patience and grace as Mom and Dad’s attentions are divided yet again,  and for us for wisdom in how to best help Boris- especially Jed, since pretty much all of Boris’ care falls on his shoulders at the moment.

Thank you all! More to come. 🙂

Yesterday marked a month since our friend, Boris, came to live with us. The range of emotions has been vast. Too many feelings have been felt and too many thoughts have been thought. It’s good and bad and wonderful and terrible and easy and hard all within the same day. There’s no ABC instruction manual for taking in a broken 25 year-old who has lived a life of abuse and severe neglect. He didn’t come home with manual on how to help him heal or how to integrate him into family or how to, as a family, accept him and the new normal that he brings. We are all learning, and in the learning we are all healing.

We’ve been reading a lot of Jean Vanier these days. The wisdom he has gained over many years of living alongside people with intellectual disabilities is amazingly helpful for us- “The wisdom of tenderness,” in his own words. If you haven’t ever read any of his works I highly recommend them!

“As we share our lives with the powerless, we are obliged to leave behind our theories about the world, our dreams and our beautiful thoughts about God to become grounded in a reality that can be quite harsh. That is where we meet God, God who is Emmanuel, God-with-us. There God is present, hidden in wounded humanity, hidden in the pain of our own hearts.”
-Jean Vanier, The Heart Of L’Arche

That quote sums it up. I can stop writing right now. 🙂

But you know I won’t.

Boris has been fighting for survival for most of his life. He is a true survivor- that’s the only way he is still alive right now. He’s a fighter, and he’s a stubborn little dude as well.  Those traits served him well in the institution, and they will serve him well again, but right now, to be completely honest, they are serving to expose the weaknesses in my own heart. The struggle is real, my friends.

In this next bit Jed gets a little nerdy as to how we understand Boris and what he does to process the world around him.

“For the past 19 years when he lived at the institution the only thing that Boris could do was survive and his survival put him in a state of fear and toxic stress. His life was not one truly lived. He knew what his body needed: food, warmth and safety- and he fought to get those needs met.  

That fight and that environment formed the physical shape of Boris’s body, but also the shape of his brain.  Our brains are absolutely remarkable at processing how we live as fundamentally social beings.

The physical, social, emotional and spiritual world around us and within us create the context where our brain processes, interprets and informs the rest of the body how to act and react (in that instant and next time).  

Our brains are profoundly complex and truly something to be marveled.   How our brains function is entirely state dependent.  If we are calm, we can think clearly and with full access to our intellectual capability.  Think of Elon Musk, sitting in his office, safe, healthy and satiated, dreaming and designing some cool future space travel.  Conversely, if we are in a state of terror, we react quickly and complex processing and abstract conceptualization become non-essential and inaccessible.  Imagine sitting on the kitchen table, trying to help your kid with his geometry homework while a hungry tiger circles.  

Imagine living between toxic stress and terror through your early childhood and on into adulthood, unsure if you will be safe or hurting, wondering if you will get enough food or if your tummy will ache as you try to fall asleep to the sounds of other boys surviving the same terrible reality.

The trauma of daily life and survival is the soil where Boris’s brain grew and deteriorated.  Instead of growing, his brain pruned away things that were of no use, the need for friendship and human connection, desire to play, to understand motion and movement, balance, motor skills and the sense of where his body is in the space around him.  

He reduced his life to mostly brainstem and cerebella functioning.  So imagine trying to process the entirety of your life through the part of your brain meant to maintain core functions, motor skill regulation, simple arousal responses, appetite/ satiety; chances are you might develop some behaviors that would seem strange and maladaptive to others around you.

Boris learned to pull his thoughts to focus, process his feelings, communicate needs and express himself through self-harming behaviors. While being with him in the institution we started seeing him process a bit through his limbic system, laughing appropriately and inappropriately, but development none the less. 

Ok, I’ll give you back to Kim.”

Now, instead of just surviving, Boris lives in a world where every need is met, and not only needs, but wants and desires are met as well.  Now we have a new struggle. Now Boris must learn to distinguish his wants and desires from his need. Because let me tell you, as a mom who has parented many a toddler, want and desire are not equal to need- even though the screaming 3 year-old may not be able to accurately distinguish the difference. Boris is a bit like a big 3 year-old at the moment- only one that has endured more trauma in his life than any human ever should. He wants things and he wants them NOW. His response to wanting things is the same as his response to needing something, and then the self-harm ensues.

If Boris is excited, he hits himself. If Boris is frustrated, he hits himself. If Boris wants attention, he hits himself.  He processes most desires, emotions, needs and requests somewhere between self-harm, disregulated motor skills, laughing, sweating, rocking, increased heart rate and chirps.  We have a feeling it’s only going to get worse before it gets better. He has to learn a new way of being, a new way of communicating, a new way of processing the world around him, and at 25 years old that’s a pretty tall order.

The response his self-harm evokes in me is surprising. It’s embarrassing and ugly to admit, but this is real life and we’re real people. Not one of us is perfect- least of all, me. I’m quickly realizing how much I see Boris’ self-harming, or lack thereof as a reflection of my personal success or failure. When he isn’t self-harming I feel good, warm, fuzzy, but when he hits himself I find myself feeling anger, impatience, and even disgust. And Jed just sits there like a zen master…grrrr.

Of course I don’t want Boris to hurt himself! But it’s humbling to realize how quickly my thoughts turn to myself in those moments of him harming himself. I feel failure. I feel disgust. I feel impatient. I wonder if I can really do this for the long haul. I, I, I.

Compassion and empathy have no room to grow in a space filled with selfishness and self-pity. It appears Boris is not the only one in need of healing.

Boris’ brokenness is exposing in us the places in our own hearts that are broken.

In meeting his physical needs that he can’t meet for himself we are finding healing. In the pursuit of finding peace for Boris’ heart and mind, we must rely on the Holy Spirit. We need his wisdom so very much. We need strength, patience and love that can only come from above.

It’s easy, in the hard moments, to wonder if this is what it’s always going to be. Are things going to get worse and then better? Or are things just going to get worse and stay worse? No one can say. But does it make a difference? Is Boris any less worth it? Is the YES only worth it when it comes with obvious success?

What if twenty years from now it still takes 2 of us for every diaper change just to keep Boris safe? What will my soul be singing in those moments?  Will I have found contentment in the simple act of serving?  Will I be able to say “It is well with my soul”, or will I be bitter and resentful that my life took this turn?

The sooner we learn to truly walk in the Spirit, the better- for us, for our children, and for Boris. The sooner we stop looking at our own perceived successes and failures and start finding joy in the simple act of caring for our friend, the better.

This is a journey we can not walk in our own strength. We will totally screw it up. So each day we are learning and breathing and (hopefully) changing.

In the practical day to day of life with Boris the journey looks like a patterned consistent routine, loads of sensory integration, boundaries, creativity and good old fashioned parenting. When Boris is hitting himself because he doesn’t get what he wants he has to calm his body down, and only then, when he’s more calm does he get the thing he wants.  It means we have to maintain that calm presence, hands on him at all times. Sometimes it means leaving the table 3 times during a meal. Sometimes it means it takes 30 minutes to get out the door for a walk. But Boris will learn. Over time trust will build, new neural pathways will be built, and more understanding will come.

When I choose empathy, when I remember where Boris came from and all he has endured and allow my heart to break again and again, rather than hardening my heart in the face of monotony and frustration, THEN healing can come. And when my heart is open to it’s own healing, only then can I be an instrument of healing to my dear friend.

So our friend is a challenge to us and a blessing to us in ways we could not have foreseen. May our hearts remain open and may the hard parts return to softness. May each of us see the loved ones in our lives as the beautiful treasures they are- worthy of our time, our love, our sacrifice, and our dedication.

BeLOVE[d]

Folks, we’re gettin’ close. Only 5 more weeks and we’ll have another little Johnson in the house! OMG. At 34+ weeks I’m at the stage in pregnancy when you are just ready to be DONE. My body is done. But, I’m also not quite ready for the baby to be out. Right now he/she is very easy to take care of and demands zero amount of my time. That’s convenient when I have six others that demand all my time and attention. So, as much as I’m ready to be done, I’m also not quite ready for a newborn. Make sense?

Lots of people have asked what the medical care has been like here in Ukraine, so far during this pregnancy, so I thought I’d share. It has been one gigantic learning curve that’s about to become reeeeeeeal steep here in a few weeks. I’ll start out right now by saying that nothing I’m writing here is meant to bash Ukrainian healthcare. I have felt very well taken care of over the past several months. I have zero doubt about the skill of the doctor I have been seeing. It’s not about that. This is all about the differences between my experiences in the US and my experiences here.  I’m not speaking to others’ experiences, only my own. I’ve birthed three biological kiddos in the US and am also an RN with many years of experience in postpartum and infant care and 13 years of hospital work experience. We’ve also been foster parents in the US to 10 newborns/young infants with special needs. In other words, I’ve been around this mountain before and am quite a nerd about it. I also have loads of opinions about it all…but I’ll try to spare you some of that. The differences between the cultures and medical systems here in Ukraine and the US are vast and the topic interests me endlessly. So, yeah, there is no bashing at the heart of this post- only interest combined with  some amusement, confusion and fascination. 🙂

In Ukraine the public healthcare is provided by the government. There are many free public clinics in our city. There are two free public maternity hospitals. The care is meant to be free, but the funding is sparse and the doctors are paid so little, it is expected that patients should tip as they are able. You also need to purchase many of your own supplies. I have a big ol’ list of supplies to buy and bring to he hospital for delivery. There are also private clinics here in our city, but no private hospitals.

The difference between private clinics and public clinics are vast. In a private clinic you make an appointment, come at the stated time, and with little wait you see the doctor you were meant to see, or get the test you were meant to receive. In the public clinic you just show up, ask who is the last in line, and then take your place behind them.  There are no appointments. So….as you can imagine, you can end up waiting a long time…but such is life. The waiting rooms are not what you would imagine if you have only been in US clinics. They are simply chairs in a hallway- bare minimum (or zero) lighting, concrete floors, no tv, no music, no magazines, no coffee machine, no nothing. Just people waiting. Fun times.

When I first discovered I was pregnant (Holy moly. The shock was intense.) I called a dear friend in our town who speaks great English and asked her to help me. I knew the system had to be so different and I had no idea even where to begin! Bless her heart, she said yes, and has been a big help to me ever since! Thank you, dear Olya! We first went to a private clinic for an early U/S, just to confirm the pregnancy because I’ve had a tubal pregnancy in the past and wanted to make sure we weren’t going to have a repeat of that sadness. That was a great experience and very similar to what you would experience in the US.

After that, around 10 weeks or so I needed to register with a doctor at a public clinic here in town. I decided to go with the doctor who Olya had seen during her pregnancy. In Ukraine you see one doctor throughout the pregnancy, and then when you near delivery (around 36/37 weeks) you choose where you will deliver and register at the hospital. A different doctor delivers the baby- not the doctor you have seen for the pregnancy.

The doctor has been very kind and pretty much laid back. At each appointment she weighs me, measures my belly, and listens to the baby’s heartbeat. Just like in the US. Major difference: the doctors here use Pinard Horns (a wooden horn thing) to listen to the baby’s heartbeat. I’d never even seen one of those in real life!  Think “Call the Midwife” and you’ll be spot on. Can you believe I’ve never heard my baby’s heartbeat? Only the person with the horn can hear the heartbeat. Old school. In fact, I’ve been watching a lot of Call the Midwife lately and feel like there are many similarities to the resources here and there.

I had an U/S at 12 weeks and then again at 19 weeks. I think that’s pretty similar to my experiences in the US. The 19 week U/S was much more brief here. It lasted maybe 10 minutes? I didn’t get to watch, but Jed did. 🙂 We requested to keep the gender a secret, so we’re still waiting on that big surprise! My doctor doesn’t do any ultrasounds but they’re done in an office right next to hers.

One massive difference between Ukraine and the US during pregnancy is the PAPERWORK and TESTING. Holy smokes! So much paperwork and so many blood tests! Wow. I feel like I’ve been poked more times here than in all of my previous pregnancies combined! Basically every 3 weeks, before my appointment, I need to have some sort of test done. At my appointment my doctor will give me little slips of paper that are for the next round of tests. She writes my name on it, her name on it, the hours you can go for testing (normally like M-F 07:30-09:00) and the room number where the test is done. Before my next appointment I need to show up at the different little rooms, stand in line, and go in to do my test. It’s customary to give a few griven (Ukrainian money) to the lab person, along with the little orders slip. For some tests I need to buy my own syringe and needle and bring that along, but most blood tests have been finger sticks. The finger stick tests are done in one room and the blood draws from the vein are done in a different room. I have more than 3 kids, so technically, I don’t have to pay for any of the tests.

The next round of tests I need to do before my upcoming appointment.

In the room where you get your finger sticks there are several different women sitting at desks with a bunch of little glass vials sitting in front of them. They take a metal, almost needle thing, out of a manila envelope and prick the end of my finger. Then they use a glass pipet to collect the blood and smear it on a microscope slide. When I look in front of them at the rows and rows of collected blood in different vials I can’t understand their system at all. There are no patient labels, no lids, no plastic (all is glass)…how do they keep it all straight? How do they separate dirty from clean? How do they not always mess up people’s blood work? I have no idea. It’s so fascinating to me.

I also need to bring a urine sample from home every time I have an appointment. You can bring your urine in a jar of any kind, or you can buy little plastic specimen containers from the pharmacy. Urine needs to be dropped off the day before the appointment, so Jed usually does that for me, bless his heart. 🙂

Another MAJOR difference between here and the US is that everything is done on paper and there is not a computer to be seen (hence the lack of patient labels in the lab). Private clinics have computers, but public do not- at least not in our town. Everything is written on paper. My doctor has a shelf of active patient records in her office. Because there are no computer systems linked between different clinics and hospitals, and you have no electronic chart following you, your patient record literally needs to stay with you. Everything needs to be written twice. My doctor writes notes in her chart for me (like a notebook) and then writes them again in my own personal chart/notebook that I take home and bring back and forth to appointments. There are two copies of every lab result and one copy is stapled into her chart and one into mine. That way, when I change to the delivery doctor, I have my chart in my hands. At this point in pregnancy my little notebook is just jam packed with notes and results and such. The lab where they do blood draws has a big binder where they write patient information- just like the Call the Midwife logbook. 🙂 It’s really interesting.

My personal patient chart and one of the lists of things I need to buy at a pharmacy to bring to the hospital for delivery.

For me, the big looming decision was where to deliver the baby. I have to have a c-section (huge bummer) because I’ve had three previous c-sections. My babies all love to position themselves bottom or feet first. Grrr. Anyway, because of that, I felt really nervous about where the surgery would be done. My options were delivering here in our town, at one of the public maternity hospitals, or in Kyiv, at a private maternity hospital. It would cost about $4,000 to deliver at a private hospital. The main question wasn’t money, but where we felt safest and most comfortable.

Again, I’m not saying I think Ukrainian doctors lack skill. C-sections are done here every day and everything goes just fine. It’s not like my situation is so unique (except 4 c-sections is actually considered very unique here in Ukraine!) that I need some special treatment. It’s not that at all, it’s just that when you are in a situation where the system is totally new, you don’t understand everything (medical terminology and such in Russian and Ukrainian), and you know you’re already going to be stressed, you want to feel like you made the best decision for you and your baby. It was a difficult decision for us! I would say I understand 85-90% of what my doctor says to me. She speaks great Ukrainian and I’m super thankful for that. But, that is rare in our city. Most of the lab techs and others I encounter speak Russian to me and I don’t always understand them as well. I know when I’m stressed and in surgery my mind is not going to want to think in Ukrainian or Russian. I will need to be able to trust and know that I’m in good hands.

In the end, we decided to deliver at the public hospital here in our town. It’s 10 minutes from our house, as opposed to 2.5-3 hours away in Kyiv. Especially with having Boris home now, it’s important that we stay close to home. It’s convenient, for sure, but the biggest deciding factor was the doctor. One of our closest friend’s mom is one of the head doctors of labor and delivery at the maternity hospital near our house. She has over 20 years of experience and has agreed to do the c-section for us. I feel great about this decision. She knows us, she knows our family. We matter to her- we aren’t just random people. She speaks no English, but I know that she will do her best to make sure I understand what’s going on and that means the world to me. Also, she is very skilled at her job. I know she’ll watch over me closely and I need that reassurance, being so far away from everything that seems normal to me.

I’ll for sure write about our delivery and hospital experience after the baby comes, but I can tell you now some things that I already know will be very different. I’m slowly coming to grips with these differences, even though I don’t like them one bit! For one, Jed doesn’t get to be in the operating room. This one absolutely kills me. He’s always been present for the births of our babies and I can’t imagine being in the OR without him! I know I’ll be an emotional wreck. But, we have no choice in the matter. They told me that he’ll be in a room next door and as soon as the baby is born and they show him/her to me they’ll take him/her straight to Jed and he will have the baby with him while they finish me up and take me to the recovery room. I can’t believe we won’t be together when we find out if it’s a boy or girl! I’m so sad about it. 🙁

The doctor told me it will be about two hours before the baby gets to be with me again, and during those two hours, he/she will be with Jed. The first day and night I will stay in a special post-op area with the baby and Jed doesn’t get to stay. But the next morning, if everything is going well, they will transfer me to a regular room, and then Jed will stay with me the rest of the time. We will pay for a private room so we can be by ourselves, as opposed to a ward room. No thanks!  Eek! The doctor reassured me that the baby will be with either me or Jed 100% of the time. At no point will they take him/her away. I’m really glad about that. They do a TB vaccination here while the baby is still in the hospital, so we need to decide if we will do that or not. I’m not big on newborn vaccinations, but I also know that TB is a real threat here and I want to be wise. We need to do our homework on that one.

The maternity hospital

Another big difference here is that the kids will not be able to visit us in the hospital.  They don’t allow children to visit at all. I have to stay for 5 days, so that will be brutal. Thank goodness for FaceTime! I’m certain the hospital has no wifi, but we recently got 3G in our fine city (woohoo!), so I should be able to connect, at least briefly. And Jed will be able to go back and forth and check on everyone. My in-laws are coming from Montana to stay with us and help out when the baby comes, so they can be at home with the kids. I’m so thankful they’ll be here. I don’t know what we would do if they couldn’t come! I’d probably be even more of an emotional wreck. Ha!

That’s my experience so far. It’s been different, for sure, but definitely fine. I’m blessed to have very straightforward pregnancies, so far so good. I’ve enjoyed learning another part of Ukrainian culture- especially as a nurse. We are getting so very excited to meet our little treasure in less than 5 weeks. We sure do appreciate your prayers for a safe and speedy delivery and recovery. Thank you, Friends! 🙂

On Christmas Day we had much to celebrate. Not only is Christmas always the best holiday EVER, but this Christmas we celebrated one week of having our sweet Boris home.

Yes! On December 15th the guardianship committee granted Jed’s petition for guardianship in a quick and easy 10 minute meeting. I realized that I said I would come back and share the news here on the blog, but I forgot! Sorry to keep you hanging. I share much more frequently on our Wide Awake Facebook page, just so you know. 🙂

We waited for the documents to be drawn up and ready, and then on Monday, December 18th we brought our boy to his forever home on the Homestead.

I still can’t quite believe Boris lives with us! It’s unreal! I remember the many hours our team has spent sitting with Boris at Romaniv praying and crying over him. We cried over the injustice of his life and we prayed for his freedom. Now those prayers have been answered. It’s miraculous.

I would say that overall, Boris is doing much better than we anticipated! We definitely have some big challenges, and the road to healing will be steep and long, but I’m actually shocked at how well he is doing. For instance, I thought that we wouldn’t be able to take Boris out of the house for quite some time. I imagined that the stimulation of going new places would be far too much for him, but he has proved me wrong. He loves going in the car and we have already seen improvement in his ability to cope with new surroundings and new people. Yay!

I know many of you are very curious about every aspect of this journey, so I will try to be faithful to share. I also want to make sure in sharing that I always guard Boris’ dignity. He has had so much stolen from him over the years, I don’t want to be yet another person who steals from him. He deserves better than that. So, I will share our experience, but many details I won’t share.  This is Boris’ journey as much as it is ours, and I want to be very careful to show him respect. Thank you for understanding!

Medical. Medically, we don’t really have anyone to guide us. Boris is a total medical mystery. He is the size of our 7 year old, but Boris is almost 26 years old. The only diagnosis he had at the institution was “severe mental retardation” (not my words, just the literal translation). We have no idea what kind of condition he was in upon coming to the institution in 1998, so we really don’t have any way of knowing how much of the Boris we see now was preexisting, and how much of who he is now is caused by living at Romaniv for 19 years. I’m just assuming that the main things we are dealing with are a lifetime of abuse, neglect, and constant stress and trauma. There is no handbook on how to navigate the path to healing for someone like Boris so we are just praying for wisdom and creativity and taking it one day at a time.

I’m an RN, so I’m thankful for that background right now. We took Boris last week to get a bunch of lab work done, just for some baseline numbers. Some of the labs came back quite concerning, so we will need to dig deeper into that once we find a doctor that we feel we can trust with Boris’ medical care here. We also took him for a full abdominal ultrasound, just because his body shape is so strange and he is obviously not healthy. We just have no idea what is going on with those organs in there. The US showed some abnormalities that, again, we will need to address once we find a medical home for Boris’ care. Right now we are just doing these tests at a private clinic and just ordering them ourselves. Once we collect a few more specimens for evaluation we will present all our findings to a doctor and get recommendations on how to proceed.

We will be applying for a passport for Boris ASAP so that we can get him to Germany for medical evaluations there with some of our partners. He has a foot/ankle and arm (humerus) that were broken at one point and never healed correctly. The breaks really hinder his mobility, so we are eager to find out what a surgeon will say about that.

Physical (Daily Life).  Boris requires pretty much full care. He can walk, but really only around the house. He has no stamina, pretty poor balance and the odd shape of his foot makes finding suitable shoes a real problem. We are borrowing a wheelchair from some friends while we look for a permanent chair that will fit him correctly. The wheelchair is not needed at home, but is a necessity when we are out and about. He really likes being wheeled around, so that’s a bonus!

I thought that food would be a big obstacle, but honestly, he’s done amazing! I remember Vladik being SO picky when he first came home. He would only eat pureed textures and if anything had much taste at all he would say it was “spicy”. I expected Boris to be even more picky, but boy has he proved me wrong! He hasn’t turned down anything! I’m so relieved about that. Sure, we have the food insecurities and the food obsession going on, but at least when he’s given food he’ll eat it. We all just have to be careful not to eat in front of him when it’s not his mealtime. If you eat in front of Boris you better be prepared to share! He is capable of feeding himself, but his coordination is quite poor and he crams the food into his mouth way too fast. It’s really not safe, so for now we are feeding him. Once he begins to learn that no one is going to steal his food and food will always be there when he wants it, we’ll start to work on independent feeding skills. At first he was turning down all liquids except soup, but already in one week he has changed his tune. He’ll drink basically anything except water at this point, so that’s a big victory!

Boris is not able to dress himself, so we help him with that. He wears a boys size 8. What a little peanut! He is so darn cute.

Communication. Boris is nonverbal. He doesn’t speak at all. He also does not know any signs. It’s been fun to begin to learn his ways of communicating. Some of it we already knew just from knowing him at Romaniv, but he is already much more communicative, after just one week! Having your needs consistently met encourages communication. It’s beautiful. His main methods of communication are reaching for things, or walking to the room where the need can be met (going to the kitchen for food, going to his room when he’s ready for bed, going to the bathroom when he wants the toilet). He also makes eye contact and then makes a kind of grunting sound when he wants to communicate a desire. He shakes his head when he is saying no. Like if he is grunting to me and I ask him if he needs the toilet, he will shake his head, or he will get up and start to walk to the bathroom (if we’re lucky…toileting is a whole other beast we are tackling. Oy.).  It’s really difficult to know how much Boris understands. He definitely understands simple commands, and obeys them well. How much he understands at a deeper level, beyond just simple language is impossible to ascertain at this time. Only time will tell.

As you can see on his face, Boris has quite a history of self-harm. Years and years with almost zero sensory input can lead the boys to self-harm in order to get some sort of sensory input. Right now it doesn’t seem that Boris is hitting himself for any kind of sensory input. Right now it almost seems like communication, or just his way of processing his emotions. Like, if we tell him we’re going outside, he’ll get really excited and his go-to reaction is to hit himself in the head. Or when he first came home he would hit himself very aggressively when it was time for his clothes to be changed. He has already backed way down on that. We make sure that two of us are present for big transitions and one of us will be on “hand duty” to try to keep the hitting to a minimum. We know we can’t undo the past 19 years in one week, but we can sure try. 🙂

Emotional. Emotionally, Boris was at the best he has been since we met him when we took him from Romaniv. His one on one time with his intern, Mira, has helped him to begin to develop. He is able to process this huge transition in a more positive way than he would have before. That really is one of the goals of the internship, and of our work at Romaniv, to prepare the boys for life outside of the institution. It’s awesome to be able to reap the benefit of the internship with Boris. Three years ago he would have been a complete disaster- he was self-harming almost constantly and his arms were always tied up to try to keep him safe. He’s come a long way since then. God’s timing is perfect.

Even though he can’t speak, Boris makes it very obvious that he is happy with his new life. He is so happy that today one of our kids described him as being “jolly”! Anyone who has met Boris before would be shocked to hear that word used to describe him. In this past year, at Romaniv, Boris began to laugh at appropriate times and in appropriate situations. He would laugh when his favorite volunteers were near or when he was taken outside, but it was not frequent. He was generally quite serious. Not anymore!  He will laugh appropriately at the kids when they do funny things. When he’s happy with his food he’ll make sure to catch your eye and smile and laugh. He loves music and smiles a lot when good music is playing. He especially smiles when he’s been gone in the car and realizes we’ve arrived back home. Ahhh, home sweet home.

A lot of times the laughing is appropriate, but it is also often inappropriate. Inappropriate laughter is laughter that goes on and on and on for no apparent reason. We’re talking laughter that goes from midnight till 2am without a pause…yeah, at that point we can safely assume he’s not just really, really happy.  We are aware that he is processing more complex thoughts and emotions through the limbic system.  As he heals and his brain reorganizes itself we hope to see his processes advance and change.  We’ve noticed that the manic kind of laughter happens more frequently when Boris has been overstimulated- maybe we were out and about too much, or had a houseful people (all things that are hard to avoid the week of Christmas). While Boris handles the activity and commotion quite well, he seems to pay for it later. So, we are trying to be more aware of that.

Family. It’s truly wonderful how well Boris has melded into our family. All our kids have commented on how different he is than how they expected. He’s more mellow than they expected, but also louder than they expected (hello laughter!), and he has a lot more personality than any of us expected. It’s amazing how in the institution the boys are just shells of their true selves. It only takes love and a sense of safety for their true selves to start to show up. We’re just getting glimpses of the true Boris, and he is so fun! I love watching our kids delight in him.

Many people have asked how Vladik has reacted to having Boris in our home. He is doing great! We talked about it a lot before Boris came, so Vladik was prepared. He likes to tell everyone that he has a new brother. 🙂 People have asked if Vladik and Boris were friends at Romaniv, and truthfully, no, they weren’t. I would say that the majority of the boys at Romaniv do not have “friend” attachments to any of they other boys. Many of them function socially and emotionally at such a low level that there is just not the awareness of others to form any attachments. Vladik had a peer or two that he had some attachment to, but Boris did not. Boris rarely interacted at all with any of the other boys. Honestly, all he did every.single.day was sit. Sit and sit and sit. He did not have friends.

When Boris first arrived he definitely reacted to Vladik. I assume that he, of course, remembers him! Vladik likes to talk to Boris and seems quite happy that he’s here. Vlad doesn’t love sharing attention, so he’s made sure to make his attention grabs, but that is very appropriate for where Vladik is in his emotional development. He’s adjusting just fine.

We are quite aware that this road to healing for precious Boris is going to be a long one. He has been damaged by others in every way possible. But I can honestly say that so far he has brought us immense joy. I honestly didn’t expect it! His laughter lights up a room. He is teaching our kids a new level of empathy and compassion and we are thankful for that. Taking care of him is physically demanding and requires creativity, but the feedback he gives is a gift. It is our joy to introduce him to true living.

Thank you so much for your encouragement and love during this time of transition. It blows us away how many people have reached out to cheer us all on. We need your prayers for wisdom and energy and creativity. We value your ideas and input. Thank you to every single person who has helped to make this dream possible. A life has been saved and you are a part of it. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts.