Backing Up...

I have a dozen blog posts swirling around in my head but can't ever seem to find the time and energy to put them into actual words.  I have to back way up to the end of March to get caught up, and it has me thinking about how quickly things change in life...

On a beautiful Monday morning, we dropped Bou off at school and headed for the local beach park.  Buddy rode his scooter while I followed behind with Bella in the stroller.  Things were just right.

Forty-eight hours later, things were all wrong.  Bella had been vomiting for 24 hours - she could literally keep nothing down.  She also had a fever and was complaining of both head and leg pain.  It was almost exactly the same scenario that played out when she broke her hip.  I didn't know what was going on (although I had a very good idea) but I knew that it was something serious.  When Bella broke her hip, she became a different person.  The normally happy, talkative girl became withdrawn and silent - markedly different.  The same thing was happening now.  By six pm I felt she had to go to the emergency room.  I packed a small bag for us because while I didn't know exactly what was happening, I knew we weren't coming home that night, and that she would be admitted to the hospital for whatever it was that was causing these symptoms.

Bella has a complex medical history, and I am very careful about choosing which details regarding her health I share on this blog.  I realize that I haven't talked much at all about what her diagnoses are.  That is because I think about her teenage years, when egos and self-images are fragile.  I wonder how she might feel about her friends (or people who aren't her friends) finding her mom's blog and reading about her diagnoses.  I think about her adult years, when a potential employer might pre-judge her abilities (as so many others already have) based on the labels she has been given.  So while part of me wants to share so much more about her health, a bigger part of me feels the need to protect her from the cruelty that lurks in cyberspace.

So if I am vague, that is why.  Anyway, when we arrived in the emergency room I honestly expected to be seen immediately given her history and the current symptoms she was having.  We checked in and were told to have a seat in the waiting room.  After about 20 minutes she vomited everywhere, and then we were taken to triage.  From that point on, things moved quickly and efficiently.  She was taken for a CT scan of the head, then for xrays of her hip and leg to rule out any problems with the recently repaired fracture.  Before the xrays were completed I turned around to see her neurosurgeon standing in the doorway.  He began to tell me about the swelling she had in her brain, and how she needed to go to the operating room that night to relieve the pressure.   It was what I had suspected based on the extreme vomiting, but I was still shocked to hear it.

Bella was in the operating room very shortly, and though I sat alone in her hospital room during the wee hours of the night waiting for the surgery to be over, I felt very much at peace.  I messaged a couple of fellow adoptive moms with special needs kids and they made me feel very supported.  When she emerged from the O.R. with head half-shaven my stomach knotted up a little.  Her growing blond hair had been symbolic - its length marked the passage of time since she was freed from the orphanage, since the very last time they shaved her head there, as was the norm.  This was a setback in more ways than one (of course I realize that hair grows back, and it really is insignificant in this kind of situation, but I am just describing how I felt at that moment).

She came through the surgery in usual Bella-style:  with flying colors.  In fact, the next day I think she looked better than she'd ever looked before.  Maybe it was because she finally FELT better than she'd ever felt before too.

 

After spending a few nights in the hospital, she was discharged on March 23rd,  the same day we'd planned Bou's seventh birthday party - aaaggghh!  Somehow we pulled it all off that day even though the party didn't go as I'd originally envisioned it.  With Bella in the hospital, I had no time to put together the activities I'd planned so entertainment came in the form of a last-minute bouncy house rental (not sure if this is just a Hawaiian thing or what, but everyone here rents bouncy houses for just about any type of celebration). 

 Woo Hoo!

 We did do Shrinky-Dinks and the girls liked watching them shrink in the oven :)

 The impromptu cake - thank you to my friend who went to Costco and got it for us, otherwise we may have been eating graham crackers with candles stuck in them!

So the party wasn't Pintrest worthy - not that any of my kids' parties are, haha!  That was okay.  All that mattered was that our entire family was under the same roof once again, everyone was still healthy, and my little girl had a great birthday with her friends.  That night after all the kids were asleep, I walked in their rooms and kissed each forehead ever so lightly, so as not to wake them, and then I just thanked God.  Because, as we've learned in the last five months, there is nothing better than having all three precious little people tucked safely in their own beds with Mama and Daddy just down the hall.  

 So blessed to have this beautiful, fun, tender-hearted, nature-loving child as my daughter.

What Might Happen?

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What might adopting a special needs child do to you, emotionally and relationally?

It might make you want to lash out in anger (however unjustifiable) at a five year old girl on the playground after she repeatedly comes over to the stroller to stare at your daughter’s head - half-shaved head from recent surgery -rotting teeth that can’t be fixed just yet, and withered legs.  She declines to reciprocate the multiple “hellos” and waves that your daughter is offering her.  You tell this girl that your child’s name is Bella, and she’d love to say hello, then watch the girl shake her head, give one more disapproving look, and walk away.  After your tender-hearted Bella looks at you and, while pointing at the girl, says “Mama, no hello” and begins to cry, you might use every ounce of grace you can muster to just shut up and not turn into bitch mom right there by the slides.

You might also be moved to tears by another child, a nine year old with a level of love and compassion in her heart that many adults never achieve.  This nine year old, who also happens to be adopted, wrote such kind words in Bella’s birthday card that it has become a treasure to be saved for Bella to read herself one day. 

It might compel those you know to avoid eye contact (or any contact) with you when you go to a birthday party with your kids or walk into church.  It might also compel those you know (or barely know) to seek you out when you go to a birthday party with your kids or walk into church.   Sometimes you might walk out feeling uncomfortable, isolated, or hurt.  Other times you might walk out with a full heart, one that has been flooded with feelings of relief and thankfulness. 

It might cause you and your spouse to argue over ridiculous things – like whether his way or your way is the BEST way, or even worse, the ONLY way to position your completely dependent child on the toilet.  I mean, let’s face it, as long as the pee goes in the bowl it should be considered mission-accomplished.  Later you might look at your spouse and say “Did we really argue over that – again?”  I am not saying this has actually happened at our house, just that it MIGHT have :).

You and your spouse might get frustrated with each other because there are inevitably things you won't see eye-to-eye about.  But when you see your husband teaching your adopted child how to play the ukulele or hear her say "I want Daddy"  it might also cause you to thank God that he is the one you are doing this with.  

It might make you keenly aware of how fragile the human body is, and how amazing the human spirit is, and how quickly things can change – every. single. day.  And you might come to realize what a good thing this daily reminder is.  It is not a curse or a burden, it is a BLESSING.  Because you begin to understand that so many things you worry about are frivolous and insignificant.  When you begin to realize this, you start to loosen your grip on those things and turn more of your attention to the things (ie. people) that do matter.  You might go out and enjoy watching your kids play in the backyard today because you know that you could be at the hospital with a child who has broken a hip or needs neurosurgery tomorrow. 

It might help you forge relationships with women you have never met in person.  But you know your hearts are forever intertwined through special needs adoption.  Some of them are doing what you are doing, some are doing things that are so much harder.  All of them inspire and encourage you.

Some of these things might happen.  It has all happened to me, and we’re just a few months into this journey.  I would not change it – not the sorrow and definitely not the joy (and the joy far outweighs the sorrow!). 

February Recap

And yes, I realize it's already mid-March!  I think I've mentioned before that I'm a terrible blogger :) February was a busy month, so I'll do a quick review in pictures...

A visit from Rob's parents, one of his brothers and sister-in-law.

A ceremony for my husband, where he earned two awards that are not easy to come by.
Very proud of him!

Bou and her daddy.  Love.

Bella's first EVER birthday party with some sweet friends.

Happy 9th Birthday, big girl!

Bella had her pins removed from her hip after an xray showed good bone healing and new bone growth - yeah!

Lei-making with friends.

 A new "big boy" bike for Buddy.  He LOVES it (and has already figured out how to slam on the brakes while turning so he can "skid".  Lord help me when this guy is a teenager!).

 Happy to be upright again now that the hip is healed :)

Beach...

...And beach park. 

 

And I'll end with a little Bella update.  She is making progress, albeit in small steps (but we'll take it!).  At this point, she can hold her head up unassisted for about 30 seconds at a time. She can tolerate sitting in her stroller for a couple of hours at an almost-upright position. She can turn from back to side and vice-versa. She cannot sit up at all unassisted. She can hold her own sippy cup, feed herself finger foods, and use her right hand somewhat. Her left hand is pretty strong, although still shaky. These are all improvements since coming home.

She has a few more surgeries on the horizon.

Her English is still coming along well and she is still a happy, easygoing kid. We hope that all surgeries can be done and casts can be off in time for her to start school in August. She tells me every day when we drop Bou off at school, "I want school!".

Parenting Bella is a humbling experience - I am convicted daily of my own selfishness and desire to have things done on my timeline (which let me tell ya, ain't gonna happen!! Haha!). Someone commented on one of my Facebook photos that everyone needs a Bella in their lives and that is so true. To see joy exude from some who can do virtually nothing for themselves, who is completely dependent on others, is also a daily perspective check - one that I need and one that I am privileged and happy to have!

This Time It's Personal

You know, there have been several orphans who have wiggled their way into my heart, and I thought "I have to advocate for them, write a blog post about them...something".  And yet I haven't managed to do it.  Between Bella's hospitalizations and our own transition to a family of five, I just have not made it a priority.  But this time is different.  This time it's personal.

You probably recognize one of these girls as our adopted daughter, Bella.  She will turn nine in just a few days.  The other little girl (in the red striped shirt) is Iris, and she is 11 years old.  Beginning last summer, Iris was allowed to come to the laying room regularly to visit and play with Bella.  The two quickly became best friends.  Can you imagine, someone to love in a place where the "unloved" reside?  How precious those times spent together must have been for both girls.  Their smiles say it all. 

When we were doing our daily orphanage visits, we had the opportunity to spend some time with Iris.  She would be eagerly waiting by the door, peering hopefully into the narrow hallway, as Bella was wheeled out on her cart.  I would motion to her "come on out!" - some workers allowed it and some did not.  On the days when they said yes she was clearly thrilled to be out there with us.  She loved taking part in whatever we were doing - whether it was coloring, punching balloons around, playing with dolls, or dancing to music.  My bio daughter, Bou, loved Iris.  In fact she just said to me yesterday, "I wish we could have adopted Iris too."  That's not the first time I've heard this.   

Which brings me to another point.  I believe Iris would be a good big sister.  Why is that important?  Because many families are wary of bringing an older post-institutionalized child into a home with younger children.  It's a valid concern, one that certainly has to be considered.  After all, as parents we are responsible for the well-being of ALL the children in our homes.  That's why I want to share my experiences with Iris.  She played appropriately with both Bella, who is completely helpless, and my 6 year old Bou.  She was kind, fetching toys for them.  She was affectionate, giving kisses on the cheek to Bella and hugs to us.  She was gentle, sweet, timid at times.  It seemed clear to me that this child does not receive alot of the love, affection, and praise that she so craves - clear because she lacks self-assurance.  And still, she knows how to give what she receives so little of.  She told Bella that she loved her.  She called me mama at first.  After she was chastised by the workers for that, she began to call me "Bella Mama".

On the day we took Bella out of the orphanage, Iris stood at the head of the bed the entire time, watching Bella get dressed and ready to go.  I wondered what she thought as she watched her best friend, the center of a flurry of happy activity, that day.  Was she excited, scared, angry?  She looked nervous to me.  She gave me a few sweet smiles and Bella Mama's, but was quiet for the most part.  Honestly I couldn't look at her very much.  I was afraid I might cry.  I gave her a big hug on the way out and told her I loved her.  Then I closed the door - the last thing I saw was was Iris, still standing there hopefully, just as she had every day for the five weeks I'd visited. 

When I learned a couple of weeks ago that Iris had been listed on Reece's Rainbow I was thrilled.  I knew this time, THIS TIME, I had to follow through on my intentions to advocate for a child.  But still, I didn't get to it, and I was feeling very guilty and sorry about that.  But someone else, a fellow adoptive mom and author of a wonderful blog called Tiny Green Elephants, had already taken the ball and run with it!  Like me, she has adopted an older child.  Like me, her heart breaks for those kids left behind.  When she began advocating, there was only $85 in Iris' adoption grant.  Knowing that finances often present an obstacle for families, and that a family is more likely to step forward and take a leap of faith for Iris if her adoption is fully funded, the Tiny Team issued a challenge:  for 200 people to donate $100 to Iris' grant.  If that happens, it frees a family of the financial worry associated with stepping forward, because they will have $20,000 dollars available - enough to fund Iris' adoption!

Since that challenge was issued on January 28th, Iris' grant has increased to $4000!  So she no longer needs 200 people to give $100 - she just needs 160 people to do it.  

Many families (most I would say) need to fundraise in order to pay for their international adoption.   We were very blessed to be in a position to pay for ours.  We never had to ask for a single dollar.  But now I am asking - for $100 from my friends who have been so richly blessed and can afford it.  I am talking to MY friends, the ones I know in real life.  Let's look around us.  Look at our beautiful homes, lovingly furnished.  Look at our cars, our nice tech gadgets, our closets bursting with clothes.  Look at our children, who want for nothing.  They live in houses full of food, warmth, and love.  They attend schools and participate in activities.  Let's all look around us and ask ourselves, how can we NOT afford a few dollars for a child who has nothing I just listed?  If not $100, then whatever you can.  I am shamelessly imploring you to do this because I know how crucial it is for Iris to have a family.  I have seen the kind of place she will spend her life in if she is not adopted.  I do not want my daughter's best friend to go there.  It is wrong.

If you want to know more about Iris, please watch this beautiful video that my friend (a missionary who spent 6 months volunteering at their orphanage last year) made:



















You can also see Iris here, playing with Bella and Bou.  Although my video isn't as elegantly done or as moving, I like it because you can see her personality:  smiling, clapping, swaying to the music, giving Bella a kiss...At the end Bella asks in Russian "Do you love me?" to which Iris replies "Yes!"

 Please be a part of Iris' story, please go HERE to donate to her fund.  You will help save her.

My Father's Birthday

Today is my father's birthday - I'm sure he will spend it the same way he spends every other weekday.  He will get up early, work hard, and come home late.  There will be no celebrating on his part - he won't "reward" himself with a day off, or a dinner out. 

When I was a teenager, I remember someone in the family telling me a story about my dad's childhood on the family farm in rural south Georgia.  This person told me that each fall my dad and his brothers had to miss so much school in order to pick the cotton crop that they would almost fail out.  I never asked my dad about this, but it has always stuck with me.  When I was growing up, he was INSISTENT that I get good grades, get a good education.  I used to think that I had to work so hard to get where I wanted to go, but looking back I see things differently now.  For one thing, I never had to pick cotton a single day in my life.

I did inherit a good work ethic from my parents though, growing up in the country where there is always work to be done and things just aren't as easy or convenient.  I sometimes wonder what kind of work ethic my own children will have.  I sure hope they have a strong one, but it's hard to know in a generation which is so drastically different than previous ones.  We live in town, "country" work doesn't exist at my house even if I wanted my kids to participate in it, and everything is conveniently located just down the street, making instant gratification awfully tempting.  I inherently learned how to physically work from watching my parents.  Will my children learn the same thing from me?

I love that our children get to go to their grandparents' house every summer for a couple of weeks and live a different lifestyle.  They get to feed the donkeys, look for chicken eggs (Bou's FAVORITE thing!), ride on tractors, and peek out of the bedroom window after dark to see if the deer have come up to the pasture to eat the corn they set out for them.  Last summer they got to go to the "Brooklet Peanut Festival" parade with my parents.  They both thought it was so much fun!  Buddy talked about the tractors there for two months.

This photo was taken on our last visit.  Buddy is helping my dad drive the dune buggy.  He would wait for Papa to get home from work so he could drive us around the fields and we could look for deer and rabbits in the woodline.  Those same fields my dad used to pick cotton in so long ago, I suppose...

Happy Birthday to the hardest-working man I know.  Your family in Hawaii loves you.

So What's It Really Like?

What is it REALLY to parent our post-institutionalized, adopted older child?  Well, we have only been at it for six weeks (six weeks today, to be exact!) but I will tell you what we've learned so far.  So many of my blog posts have been very positive portrayals of our adoption experience, because overall it has been just that - very positive.  But in the interest of being balanced, and providing a little bit of insight to other families who may be thinking about adopting from a laying room, I'll  write a different kind of post tonight. 

First - and this may seem like a no brainer, but it isn't necessarily - no matter how "good" the orphanage was or no matter how much some of the caregivers "liked" your child, life there still sucked.  It was still a far cry from a family.  I have been as open as I can be with people about the conditions of Bella's laying room.  I want to portray it accurately - to present a fair picture rather than constantly accentuate the negative.  I try to choose my words carefully, but I also don't want to sugar-coat it.   Are there things about the place that I will never blog about publicly?  Yes.  Out respect for my daughter's privacy, yes.  But in spite of that, the truth is that it seemed okay as far as orphanages go.  Okay in this context is such a relative term though.  It seemed clean and orderly - I frequently saw one of the workers hanging linens out to dry on the lines.

Did it smell? Sure, I think it's hard to keep 15-20 bedridden children cooped up in one room - have them eat, sleep, and do their bathroom business all in beds that they lie in 24 hours a day - and have it NOT smell.

Were there enough diapers?  No.  When I asked the caregivers (through my translator) what they needed most, the immediate and unanimous answer was "pampers".  Was there enough to eat?  I don't feel qualified to answer that question.  On the one hand, all the laying room kids I got to see were extremely malnourished.  On the other hand, I saw the food being brought in to the room every single day that I visited.  I believe that the caregivers fed those children to the best of their abilities given the resources they had.  I also believe that the profound knowledge deficit regarding the care of special needs children contributes greatly to their nutritional states. 

I was able to watch the workers feed Bella a few times, and even in my presence she was fed very quickly, another big spoonful pressed into her mouth before she was able to swallow the previous one.  Liquids were given in the same way - poured down the throat with a big spoon while she was flat on her back. She choked often.  I saw the other children in the laying room being fed the same way.  It wasn't easy to watch.

Was she medicated in the orphanage?  Yes.  Were they truthful with us about it? No.

What does all of that mean for Bella, and for us?  Well you certainly don't overcome it all in six weeks... you don't just come home and act like a "normal" kid after living in an institutional environment for years.  And yet Bella seems remarkably "normal" in her emotions and her behaviors.  She is a very happy girl - sweet, loving, full of joy, easy to please.  So easy to please that, after years of doing nothing in the laying room, she wouldn't mind doing the same thing here at home.  She would be happy if left on the couch all day to watch the world go by.  Of course, that is not what she does - she has a full life now!  But it leaves her exhausted.  Just the buzz of activity from two siblings and two family pets wears her out sometimes.  Each week, though, we can see that her endurance is improving.

And more importantly, she WANTS so badly to be involved!  In the beginning, her immediate response to the slightest discomfort (physical or emotional, real or perceived) was "Ya hotchu spotch" - "I want to sleep."  It was understandably her preferred coping mechanism.  Six weeks later, we rarely hear that.  She now understands that the discomfort is temporary and that fun will follow if she just perseveres for a little bit.  And when we are done she loves to exclaim "Good job, Bella!"

It also means that nutrition is a challenge right now.  While she happily tries any food, she can only tolerate a few bites.  We aren't sure exactly why.  We think that the excess fluid she has developed in her belly recently makes her nauseated when she tries to eat, especially since she has to stay reclined to eat while her hip heals.  If she eats more than a few bites she throws up.  This will improve as her overall health status improves.  It is also clear to us that she has a difficult time chewing a lot of foods.  Whether that's because she hasn't chewed much in her life (most of her food in the orphanage was mushy), or because she tires out too quickly, or because of the terrible condition of her teeth, we don't know.  She will be able to get dental surgery in a couple of months, but the dentist wants her to get healthier first.  You can begin to see how her poor health makes nutrition difficult, but the things that need to be done to improve her health are safer to do after she her nutritional status is better - it is a bit of a vicious cycle. 

Bella is still not able to drink from a regular cup.  She just doesn't know how to close her lips around it.  She can drink from a straw (thanks to her friend, Natasha, I am sure) and she has learned to drink from a sippy cup.  When we try to use a regular cup she just opens her mouth wide (I call it baby-bird style) and waits for us to pour it in.  She will be nine years old next month, and no one ever taught her this.  I have no doubt she will figure it out soon though. 

Our daughter has some deep-seeded fears:  having an accident at naptime (she is potty-trained), throwing up, the threat of falling or being dropped, rain.  These things have caused absolute panic in her, along with other triggers.  Our Russian-speaking friend has been able to shed light on some of them, and others we can only speculate about.    Thankfully she is easily reassured and seems perceptive enough to realize quickly that the rules in her new home are different.

So what IS it really like?  This post may make caring for Bella seem a bit daunting, but it isn't.  Yes, she needs to eat, drink, get stronger so she can tolerate more activity, and overcome some fears.  Before we adopted Bella, I prayed specifically that her heart, her joy, her spirit would be protected during the transition to home and a family.  I said that the physical challenges didn't matter so much, it was the emotional health we longed to keep intact.  My prayer certainly has been answered so far, and with two hospitalizations behind us, I still stand by my assertion about the physical hurdles.  They are secondary to Bella's story.  That doesn't mean I am unphased by them though.  The day after she was discharged from the hospital I was caring for her while my two year old son was napping.  I had to take a break, go in the bathroom and close the door.  I've cried over the conditions that children in Ukraine live in...I've cried over Bella's past...I've cried tears of sadness over many aspects of this whole journey.  But never until that day last week in the bathroom, with shades drawn and door closed, did the hot tears of bitterness fall.  And they fell furiously.  I wanted to lay blame - to people, institutions, an entire society - for the things that my daughter has to endure in life because of neglect.  And so I did.  I just let myself be bitter for that one day.  Will it be my last bitter day?  I really doubt it.  But I hope it will be the last one for awhile.  I hope that on most days I will choose to focus on moving forward with Bella in her new life.  And to focus on this smile - this absolutely RADIANT smile that we see all day long from a child who brings so much joy into our home! 

I am so thankful that God gave us the courage that we alone could never have - that he soothed our fears and cleared our paths.  He protected His child and made her one of ours, too.  So what is it REALLY like?  It is REALLY good!

Bump in the Road

Tomorrow is our ten year wedding anniversary.  This photo was taken by my friend Amy when Rob returned form his last deployment a couple of months ago.  When I look at it, the emotions of all of our reunions come flooding back - I can actually FEEL them.  Each time he returns I feel as if we've accomplished something - our family bonds are even stronger.  Our world is right again, because as long as we are together we can do anything. 

This time last year, I envisioned us having a romantic weekend alone somewhere - maybe one of the neighboring islands - to celebrate (something we never get to do!).  Of course our lives have taken a different path and earlier this month we found ourselves enjoying time together as a new family of five, amazed and overjoyed at how easy it was to incorporate Bella into our home.  And while we realized that having a newly adopted daughter eliminated the possibility of a romantic weekend alone, we certainly did not expect to be where we are tonight. 

Bella was not herself earlier this week.  We initially thought she had a viral illness because she developed a couple of mouth sores, followed by a fever and vomiting at dinner.  Throughout the following day it became obvious that she was also in some kind of pain but we could not identify what was wrong.  On Thursday morning I took her to the doctor.  Other possible causes for her behavior were ruled out (at this point she was like a completely different child, not smiling or wanting to be touched at all).  The physician blamed her leg pain on her hip dislocation and muscle spasticity, but I was not convinced because the dislocation was pre-existing and had never bothered her like this before.   We discussed the possibility of a broken bone, but everyone agreed that was not the cause since there was no swelling or discoloration/bruising of the skin.  However, a pelvic xray was done and it showed a probable hip fracture, which was confirmed by CT scan.

So Bella was admitted to the hospital with a broken hip and scheduled for surgery the next day (Friday morning).  The operation went well and she is recovering in the Pediatric ICU for a few days, with an epidural pump for good pain control.  The surgeon remarked that when she opened her up her bones were like pretzels - and as a way to describe just how frail Bella is, she jokingly said that she wanted to tell the team not to breathe on her for fear that something else might break.

Finding out that your child has a broken hip that requires surgery and hospitalization just three weeks after discharge from the first hospital stay for malnutrition is very upsetting.  It was the first major bump on this journey.  The surgeon assured us that the fracture was inevitable due to years of laying on her right side (to the extent the her left femur is curved from being draped over the right leg in a side-lying position for so long), having a severely dislocated left hip, very poor nutrition, and osteopenia.  She said the real blessing is that it happened HERE and not in the orphanage, where it would have likely been lethal.  So there is the silver lining in the cloud of despair that we feel for our daughter, who has one more medical hurdle to clear.  

Yesterday though, my heart leapt with joy when she began to really wake up from anesthesia and it became clear that our happy, vivacious Bella was back.  It was such a relief to know that the pain was gone and that she is once again handling hospitalization so well.  I've said it before - her spirit is amazing.  As a wise friend wrote to me today " Bones heal and nutrition will improve again. Her heart is the key to the long term and it seems well fed by your loving family."  Bella, your family indeed loves you, we are so happy to have you with us, and we know the road to good health is long for you but worth every step.  Remember what I said - as long as we are together we can do anything.