Trust...

Little Weed #4 was born with a minor heart condition.  He had surgery 17 months ago to patch the small hole he had between two of the chambers of his heart.  The only tangible remnant of that experience is a prominent scar down the middle of his chest.

Every night since we met I have helped him undress, given him a shower or bath, and snuggled him into his pajamas.  It’s not like I’ve never seen him without his shirt on!  But one particular night, as I pulled his shirt up over his head,  he stopped, feigned surprise as he pointed to his scar, and asked (as if completely taken aback), “What’s this?!?”  I hid my smirk at his theatrics and told him it was called a scar.  I asked him if it hurt when he had his surgery.  He immediately put on his best tough-guy posture and told me that it didn’t hurt because he had been asleep.  He went on to explain in his adorable broken English combined with completely hysterical charades that he went to sleep (imagine shirtless child standing in the middle of the bathroom snoring), and when he woke up, he looked down and was shocked to see the surgical aftermath (imagine shirtless child waking from his standing slumber to look down at his chest and appear completely flabbergasted)! 

He went on to explain the benefit of the surgery. “Ziggity slow.  Dr. Jiggles slow.  Sweet One slow.  #4 FAST!”

It was a conversation that I will remember forever – not because it was new information to me (it wasn’t new- I’ve known about it since the first time I saw his adoption file), but because after over two months as a part of this family, he finally trusted me with the information that he was “broken.”  Since the process of bonding and attachment is going so smoothly, I sometimes forget that it truly is still ongoing.  I was reminded in a very big way through this entertaining and enlightening conversation that steps in trust are still being made all the time.  And will continue to be made for many months and years ahead.

As luck would have it, we had a previously scheduled cardiology appointment just a few days later.  On the morning of the appointment, I told him we would be going to see a doctor to check on his heart.  He quickly replied, “Mama, no cut!”  Broke. My. Heart.

I assured him that there would be no owies.  In fact, I thought we were going only for a brief consultation.  It turned out it was a full workup!  Oops.  One really awesome “coincidence” is that one of the nurses working that day spoke Mandarin.  She stayed with us for the duration of the appointment explaining to him all that would be happening with each test.  She was an angel, and he was a trooper.  And the final report?  “Looks fantastic.  See you next year and then every couple of years after that until adulthood. “ I can certainly live with that!

I’m so very thankful to know with certainty that #4’s heart is physically mended.  And I’m thankful that the trust that has been so graciously given suggests that we’re well on our way toward  emotional healing  in that little heart as well.