Through Anna's Eyes...what my little girl has taught me to see
Her eyes...Myanna was born with the darkest biggest blue eyes I had ever seen. So deep blue I wasn't sure they were blue at all. I couldn't see the difference from her pupil to her iris. Those eyes opened up and saw the world, a scary world for her. Full of loud sounds and bright lights, painful jabs and uncomfortable tests.
Myanna and her anxiety and trust issues came right through those eyes from the very beginning. As she got older, she would walk into the many appointments we had and be bright and smiling, even smiling with her eyes, until the harsh reality set in of what the appointment was all about, and she would cry sobs through those same eyes. She wasn't sure who to trust in the world, not even us. Babies tend to look into their mommy's eyes during feedings and it's a bond they can share, but not Myanna. She wanted to look away, look out into the world, always on guard and trying to protect herself from more pain and discomfort. She had bad reflux though, so every feeding was not satisfying, it was hard for her and caused her to gag and the milk that should have made her tummy fill with a warm comfort, caused tears in her eyes and pain in her throat.
As she got older, she needed open heart surgery. Watching our tiny little one with such bright eyes, unaware of the trauma she was about to endure was excruciating. When the surgery was completed and we went in to see her, she was in so much pain, her eyes were closed and quiet and tears were falling. It was heartbreaking to watch. When she woke, she did not trust anyone it felt like. We were unable to hold her, and unable to take away her pain.
Over the years, her eyes have changed and have changed me, not just the color alone, but what they see. Those darker then the night eyes are now bright and grey/green with beautiful highlights. They are incredible to sit and watch...watch what she is looking at. Through her eyes I have learned so much, and she is only three years old. I always heard to see the world through another's eyes, or through your child's eyes, but I never really did until now. Things she sees I wouldn't even notice in my always moving fast paced world. I would not notice my footprints as I walked out from the pool, I never have seen the many places that shadows lurk, I probably would have disregarded the line of ants on their daily journey to get food or the tiniest butterfly who stopped on the sidewalk for a drink where water had dripped from Anna's watering can. I am sure I would have not ever thought that a piece of rug fuzz resembled a spider web or that every airplane is an amazing piece of technology that one must stop and watch to appreciate. Some times, some moments, it is very difficult to catch Anna's eyes. She will look at everything except you...but once you can look into her eyes, you melt. You are drawn into her world. There are so many other things she sees, it amazes me. She notices every bug, bird, spider and piece of dirt.
As she was growing bigger, she noticed a freckle one day. Such a tiny simple thing. But it doesn't wash off! So I needed to show her that mommy and daddy have freckles too...every time she gets a new freckle I find it and talk to her about all of them. She now has one on her right ankle, her left forearm, her right forearm, her pointer finger on her left hand, her left shoulder, her forehead and recently a new one on her left forearm again. Such tiny little marks, such a huge impact in her life. I notice them, because she has noticed them.
I have also learned to appreciate that the crying child in the restaurant is maybe not just spoiled or being a brat as others may think, there might be reasons for the discomfort that outsiders cannot see. Maybe the music is too loud, maybe the smell of the food is strong. Maybe there are too many people. Maybe there us no specific reason except not wanting to be there.
Now I "see" the children in the special needs world, and appreciate what their parents are going through. Instead of feeling sorry, I feel the warmth and love they have for their children. I now feel such compassion and respect for them. With Myanna, I am slower to judge others and more empathetic. I didn't know how to communicate with parents who had a special needs child in the past...I was so ignorant. With my beautiful daughter, she has opened my eyes and shown me how lovely these children can be. She does not see any difference, she goes up to everyone. She will climb onto a wheelchair, or try on someone's orthotic shoes. She will hug dearly the little girl with Down's syndrome, until they fall over!
My daughter, my angel in disguise, has opened my eyes...with her unconditional love. She is our Blessing. What we didn't know we were missing until the veil or curtain was pulled back and the real world shown through...I feel like I finally see the light, and the world through those beautiful eyes...thank you Myanna.
Myanna and her anxiety and trust issues came right through those eyes from the very beginning. As she got older, she would walk into the many appointments we had and be bright and smiling, even smiling with her eyes, until the harsh reality set in of what the appointment was all about, and she would cry sobs through those same eyes. She wasn't sure who to trust in the world, not even us. Babies tend to look into their mommy's eyes during feedings and it's a bond they can share, but not Myanna. She wanted to look away, look out into the world, always on guard and trying to protect herself from more pain and discomfort. She had bad reflux though, so every feeding was not satisfying, it was hard for her and caused her to gag and the milk that should have made her tummy fill with a warm comfort, caused tears in her eyes and pain in her throat.
As she got older, she needed open heart surgery. Watching our tiny little one with such bright eyes, unaware of the trauma she was about to endure was excruciating. When the surgery was completed and we went in to see her, she was in so much pain, her eyes were closed and quiet and tears were falling. It was heartbreaking to watch. When she woke, she did not trust anyone it felt like. We were unable to hold her, and unable to take away her pain.
Over the years, her eyes have changed and have changed me, not just the color alone, but what they see. Those darker then the night eyes are now bright and grey/green with beautiful highlights. They are incredible to sit and watch...watch what she is looking at. Through her eyes I have learned so much, and she is only three years old. I always heard to see the world through another's eyes, or through your child's eyes, but I never really did until now. Things she sees I wouldn't even notice in my always moving fast paced world. I would not notice my footprints as I walked out from the pool, I never have seen the many places that shadows lurk, I probably would have disregarded the line of ants on their daily journey to get food or the tiniest butterfly who stopped on the sidewalk for a drink where water had dripped from Anna's watering can. I am sure I would have not ever thought that a piece of rug fuzz resembled a spider web or that every airplane is an amazing piece of technology that one must stop and watch to appreciate. Some times, some moments, it is very difficult to catch Anna's eyes. She will look at everything except you...but once you can look into her eyes, you melt. You are drawn into her world. There are so many other things she sees, it amazes me. She notices every bug, bird, spider and piece of dirt.
As she was growing bigger, she noticed a freckle one day. Such a tiny simple thing. But it doesn't wash off! So I needed to show her that mommy and daddy have freckles too...every time she gets a new freckle I find it and talk to her about all of them. She now has one on her right ankle, her left forearm, her right forearm, her pointer finger on her left hand, her left shoulder, her forehead and recently a new one on her left forearm again. Such tiny little marks, such a huge impact in her life. I notice them, because she has noticed them.
I have also learned to appreciate that the crying child in the restaurant is maybe not just spoiled or being a brat as others may think, there might be reasons for the discomfort that outsiders cannot see. Maybe the music is too loud, maybe the smell of the food is strong. Maybe there are too many people. Maybe there us no specific reason except not wanting to be there.
Now I "see" the children in the special needs world, and appreciate what their parents are going through. Instead of feeling sorry, I feel the warmth and love they have for their children. I now feel such compassion and respect for them. With Myanna, I am slower to judge others and more empathetic. I didn't know how to communicate with parents who had a special needs child in the past...I was so ignorant. With my beautiful daughter, she has opened my eyes and shown me how lovely these children can be. She does not see any difference, she goes up to everyone. She will climb onto a wheelchair, or try on someone's orthotic shoes. She will hug dearly the little girl with Down's syndrome, until they fall over!
My daughter, my angel in disguise, has opened my eyes...with her unconditional love. She is our Blessing. What we didn't know we were missing until the veil or curtain was pulled back and the real world shown through...I feel like I finally see the light, and the world through those beautiful eyes...thank you Myanna.
Even harder to see the tiniest blue butterfly...But Myanna saw it
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She cannot move because the tiny bug is on that big leaf
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No, this is not a NY Jets blanket...its a dress!
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Here her eyes look so blue...most days they are gray/green
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Sometimes just the right light is fascinating to her...
Following a trail of ants
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Love affair...
The love affair with my daughter...that is her falling in love with me...took a long time. I am her mommy and she is comforted by me...finally. Yes, it's been a long time, more time then most babies need to build the mother child relationship that is so dear...but it's been a long and traumatic two and a half years. I'm surprised as anyone it has taken this long, there have been glimpses, moments, but the complete comfort has just come along these past 4 months or so. That natural bond, the easy way a baby immediately loves their mommy, knows their mommy, even in a crowd. They can recognize her sound, her voice, her heartbeat, her smell...but who was I to her? Another nurse, another caregiver, why should she trust me? Poor baby girl needed to learn to trust, learn to love, learn to find comfort in another's arms. My arms.
Surprised, yes, after all the foster babies in my care I knew how easily it was for a baby to connect to a mother other then the one who gave birth to her. I was that mother, that foster mom who helped them to learn that skill. The bonds we established were strong and took a while for babies to become attached to their forever mothers. In receiving that first care, that unconditional love, they were able to trust and love again. That's the plan, the goal. Maybe it was easier being healthy babies and coming to my home just a day or two after being born. I was there for Myanna the day after, just 16 hrs after she was born...but things were different for Myanna and I. Her birth wasn't peaceful or calm. Her birth was frightening and painful, bright and loud. She was on guard from the first moment she arrived.
When she needed comfort, when she needed to bond, she was in an incubator. The brief moments I had with her weren't enough to allow her to breath me in, recognize a new heart beat, listen to the sound of a strange voice. For her, when she was distraught and needed someone familiar, there was no one there. Just a multitude of strangers, me included. She was under lights for jaundice, she had blood tests daily, she needed re-stuck with IVs a few times, even one in her head. She had ultrasounds, and she screamed through them, while they held her down. She was having issues with the world, sensory issues we now understand more then we did back then. The lights and sounds were overwhelming for her. She had medication and drugs in her system for the birth mom, and they were messing up her system. She already had reflux and was vomiting her formula. Her heart was racing so fast and her breathing was like a Jack rabbit. So much so, they wouldn't allow her to eat from a bottle. She was ngtube fed and when they did allow bottle feeds they were small and she was hungry for more. It was sad to watch her go through it all, she needed what I couldn't give her, a familiar sounding heart, a voice, a smell.
A month later, when we were finally home she was having bonding issues. I know that now. I am not ashamed or hurt, I understand. At the time, I was so upset because she was uncomfortable and had such huge issues with drinking her bottle. I held her, rocked her, sang to her, walked her...She had silent reflux, rapid breathing and heart rate, as well as colic. She had dr appointments all the time and blood tests monthly. She never wanted to be up against my chest, she wanted to be held outwards, watching the world. She didn't like being in a wrap or sling. She wasn't comforted by my voice, she was lost.
Our baby would undergo many tests, some very uncomfortable or painful over many months and I was unable to reassure her. In my arms she was uncomfortable. There was no belief for her that her mommy would make it all better. The worst days were her surgery, and the days that followed. Those days when a mommy can heal all wounds and wipe all tears away. I was unable to even comfort her with a touch or by holding her. I think she didn't trust anyone, she was in so much pain, and looking for someone to fix it for her. It was heartbreaking to watch and still fills me with the utmost sadness thinking of it. In my arms, she should have found some sort of contentment, some sort of ease, but it was just full of sadness and pain for her. She screamed all the time, and the doctors didn't offer her any more pain meds then Tylenol and Advil after the first 36 hrs.
A glimmer of hope for our love came when she got RSV, a terrible virus. She wanted to give up. She stopped drinking, she had a horrible cough and she started to want me to hold her. As scared as she was, she realized I was becoming a constant in her life. She needed someone to hold onto. She was put in the hospital and there became very scared, even more then at home. I never stopped holding her. I even took her from the crib they made for her and laid her next to me in the folding chair all night. I wanted her to know she wasn't in this alone.
When we returned home she was still sick, developing pneumonia and an ear infection. I kept her in my bed, right next to me, as much comfort as she would allow. As she got better, she started to trust us. Little by little she would allow others to give her hugs. As she got older, she would bend towards someone who asked for a kiss allowing them to kiss her forehead. Over the next year, I would have everyone in the family ask her for hugs and kisses, hold her as much as she allowed of us, making sure above all else that she realized how much she was loved.
When she turned 22 months old, I heard the words, mama. Tears of Joy flowed, that at last she knew who I was and called me by name. Then at 27 months she offered her first kisses, to her big sister at first and then the rest of us.
Then, it's like it all clicked for her and I received what she was supposed to do as an infant. She wanted to just sit and listen to my heart, for comfort...for an understanding, for a moment that says...this is my mama, I am home. It was a few weeks after she turned 2 1/2. She had had colds or a runny nose off and on. She was becoming a little more snugly like she does when she's not feeling well. Then, it happened. She put her head on my chest, and lay very still. She was listening. She looked up at me in the glimmer of light in the bedroom and she leaned in and kissed me right on the lips, then she returned to her place upon my chest. She grabbed my arm and hugged it to her chest...
Well, she probably got a symphony because my heart was racing, my tears were flowing and my nose sniffling as I inhaled her hair and processed the gravity of this situation. She was calm, she had found peace, listening to her mommy's heart.
I was going to end here...but remembered just last week she started repeating "love you". It's my way of saying I love you. I say it to my children often and she hears it a lot, so when I say ni nite, love you...I hear her whisper," ov u."
Love you too baby girl, More Than the World.
Surprised, yes, after all the foster babies in my care I knew how easily it was for a baby to connect to a mother other then the one who gave birth to her. I was that mother, that foster mom who helped them to learn that skill. The bonds we established were strong and took a while for babies to become attached to their forever mothers. In receiving that first care, that unconditional love, they were able to trust and love again. That's the plan, the goal. Maybe it was easier being healthy babies and coming to my home just a day or two after being born. I was there for Myanna the day after, just 16 hrs after she was born...but things were different for Myanna and I. Her birth wasn't peaceful or calm. Her birth was frightening and painful, bright and loud. She was on guard from the first moment she arrived.
When she needed comfort, when she needed to bond, she was in an incubator. The brief moments I had with her weren't enough to allow her to breath me in, recognize a new heart beat, listen to the sound of a strange voice. For her, when she was distraught and needed someone familiar, there was no one there. Just a multitude of strangers, me included. She was under lights for jaundice, she had blood tests daily, she needed re-stuck with IVs a few times, even one in her head. She had ultrasounds, and she screamed through them, while they held her down. She was having issues with the world, sensory issues we now understand more then we did back then. The lights and sounds were overwhelming for her. She had medication and drugs in her system for the birth mom, and they were messing up her system. She already had reflux and was vomiting her formula. Her heart was racing so fast and her breathing was like a Jack rabbit. So much so, they wouldn't allow her to eat from a bottle. She was ngtube fed and when they did allow bottle feeds they were small and she was hungry for more. It was sad to watch her go through it all, she needed what I couldn't give her, a familiar sounding heart, a voice, a smell.
A month later, when we were finally home she was having bonding issues. I know that now. I am not ashamed or hurt, I understand. At the time, I was so upset because she was uncomfortable and had such huge issues with drinking her bottle. I held her, rocked her, sang to her, walked her...She had silent reflux, rapid breathing and heart rate, as well as colic. She had dr appointments all the time and blood tests monthly. She never wanted to be up against my chest, she wanted to be held outwards, watching the world. She didn't like being in a wrap or sling. She wasn't comforted by my voice, she was lost.
Our baby would undergo many tests, some very uncomfortable or painful over many months and I was unable to reassure her. In my arms she was uncomfortable. There was no belief for her that her mommy would make it all better. The worst days were her surgery, and the days that followed. Those days when a mommy can heal all wounds and wipe all tears away. I was unable to even comfort her with a touch or by holding her. I think she didn't trust anyone, she was in so much pain, and looking for someone to fix it for her. It was heartbreaking to watch and still fills me with the utmost sadness thinking of it. In my arms, she should have found some sort of contentment, some sort of ease, but it was just full of sadness and pain for her. She screamed all the time, and the doctors didn't offer her any more pain meds then Tylenol and Advil after the first 36 hrs.
A glimmer of hope for our love came when she got RSV, a terrible virus. She wanted to give up. She stopped drinking, she had a horrible cough and she started to want me to hold her. As scared as she was, she realized I was becoming a constant in her life. She needed someone to hold onto. She was put in the hospital and there became very scared, even more then at home. I never stopped holding her. I even took her from the crib they made for her and laid her next to me in the folding chair all night. I wanted her to know she wasn't in this alone.
When we returned home she was still sick, developing pneumonia and an ear infection. I kept her in my bed, right next to me, as much comfort as she would allow. As she got better, she started to trust us. Little by little she would allow others to give her hugs. As she got older, she would bend towards someone who asked for a kiss allowing them to kiss her forehead. Over the next year, I would have everyone in the family ask her for hugs and kisses, hold her as much as she allowed of us, making sure above all else that she realized how much she was loved.
When she turned 22 months old, I heard the words, mama. Tears of Joy flowed, that at last she knew who I was and called me by name. Then at 27 months she offered her first kisses, to her big sister at first and then the rest of us.
Then, it's like it all clicked for her and I received what she was supposed to do as an infant. She wanted to just sit and listen to my heart, for comfort...for an understanding, for a moment that says...this is my mama, I am home. It was a few weeks after she turned 2 1/2. She had had colds or a runny nose off and on. She was becoming a little more snugly like she does when she's not feeling well. Then, it happened. She put her head on my chest, and lay very still. She was listening. She looked up at me in the glimmer of light in the bedroom and she leaned in and kissed me right on the lips, then she returned to her place upon my chest. She grabbed my arm and hugged it to her chest...
Well, she probably got a symphony because my heart was racing, my tears were flowing and my nose sniffling as I inhaled her hair and processed the gravity of this situation. She was calm, she had found peace, listening to her mommy's heart.
I was going to end here...but remembered just last week she started repeating "love you". It's my way of saying I love you. I say it to my children often and she hears it a lot, so when I say ni nite, love you...I hear her whisper," ov u."
Love you too baby girl, More Than the World.
