The wrong diagnosis, one mother's struggle with post-adoption depression

 One of the first times I was with my daughter in Ukraine in 2009

Second opinion

Last Thursday I took Evangeline, our adopted daughter from Ukraine, five years old, diagnosed with Down syndrome, to a developmental pediatrician.

"I heard this doctor is good at what he does, and I want his opinion about Evie's lack of development since she's been home from Ukraine," I affirmed rather loudly to my husband Sergei in an effort to hide that really, I was taking Evangeline to this doctor for a second opinion.

A year ago, Evie was evaluated at the Erikson Institute here in Chicago for Autism. At the time, her main activities included rocking back and forth, sitting on her bed, and looking at a light-up toy. Her eye contact was sporadic at best and she could not tolerate textured food nor touch (unless it was rough housing). I was certain we would come home with a dual diagnosis of ASD (autism spectrum disorder) and Down syndrome because almost every time I reached out to my beautiful blond little girl, my hand would get slapped.

After several appointments, Erikson concluded that Evangeline was not on the spectrum, but probably suffered from the debilitating effects of orphanage life paired with cognitive and developmental delays that can accompany Down syndrome.

But I wanted an answer

When the report came in the mail, I opened the letter while sitting on the toilet seat behind a locked bathroom door and cried. On some level, I wanted the dual diagnosis because I wanted answers. I wanted to know why Evie ground her teeth constantly, why she sought out dust and dirt to eat but refused real food. I wanted to know why she scratched her sisters when they tried to hug her, and cried at loud noises, and sat off to the side of our lives alone, most days, rocking.

But I did not get a concrete answer. I got a "keep doing what you are doing. Find more therapy opportunities, give her time to bond with your family." And slowly over the next few weeks, I started to shut down. I found it too painful to try to connect with my daughter. For months, I went through the everyday motions of caring for my family as best I could, all the while holding back from climbing into bed. I no longer attempted to bond with Evie. If she was fine being a part of our family without really being close to me, than maybe, I could live like that too.

Wrong person diagnosed

I was seeking out the wrong diagnosis for the wrong family member. Sure, it was good to have Evie evaluated a year ago. She certainly had characteristics that could point to ASD. But really, I was the one who needed the most help. I was struggling from post-adoption depression, which could have only been aggravated by a little post-traumatic stress disorder thrown in after Polly's stroke, diagnosis of Moyamoya, and two brain surgeries. After our time at the Erikson Institute, I quietly unravelled.

I have struggled with depression all my life, but alas, it is kind of like that pesky monthly period for women. Every month I am shocked that my foul mood results with menstruation. And I am 36 years old!

Depression is like that for me, too. It sneaks up on me: a few aches and pains, feeling a little down in the dumps, sleeping poorly. I fight, I do what I absolutely need to for the family and then when I can't anymore, I get into bed and I don't get out.

I started to see a doctor and a therapist, but I wasn't feeling better. I cried out to God to help me, to show me how to trust him and get back on track, but to no avail. I struggled for months, but still, somehow managed to post perky facebook stati often enough so that people outside my direct family wouldn't suspect a thing.

But I was drowning.

About three months ago, God gave me the strength to try again to get help for my depression. I went back to my doctor and let her put me on a higher dosed anti-depressant. I started seeing a different therapist and we clicked right away. I started to wake up in the morning and notice that the sun was shining.

And I saw Evangeline, a little girl considerably changed from a year ago.

Since Evie has been with us (over two years) there have been little breakthroughs here and there in our bonding. I liken them to nicking the surface of a frozen lake with a BB gun.

Now that I am above water again in life, the ice is starting to thaw. I can sit a stare at Evie for a while, marvel at her button nose, appreciate her smell, want to pull her to me.

Why the second opinion?

So, why did I take Evie for the second opinion last week?

Because I wanted to make sure that a dual diagnosis isn't in the picture for our girl. A lot of her behaviors have fallen away but she has a lot left. And although we are doing much better, I am now struggling with the guilt of that missed time when a shadow of a mother was parenting my daughter.

At the appointment, Evie climbed up into a chair, uninterested in the train set the doctor attempted to entice her with. But she laughed when he tickled her, and followed his finger as he played with her, and looked both the doctor and me in the eye almost the whole time.

I loved the doctor. He was a bit brash and un-orthodox (took a text from his wife during our interview and laughed out loud at what she wrote :). But he cut to the chase with me and it was just what I needed.

"I don't see any definite red flags regarding a dual diagnosis off the bat, of course, if you'd like, we can do a full evaluation of Evangeline to get more in-depth. But I have to ask, why are you here? You've already had your daughter evaluated at Erikson?"

"Because, well", I took a deep breath. "Because I am afraid I am not doing enough. Our other daughter got sick and ended up needing two brain surgeries six weeks after Evangeline came home from Ukraine and I. . . well, I've struggled with depression." I kind of left my answer there but in my heart I added, I am afraid that I have already failed her.

"Mrs. Marchenko, your family has been through a very difficult time these last few years. I want you to know, you are doing a good job with your kids."

I had to look away as the tears pooled in my eyes.

"And now, Ms. Evangeline," the doctor turned to Evie and let me attempt to compose myself.

After the visit to the doctor, I realized I had been looking for two things: 1) the wrong diagnosis, and 2) validation that I am the right mom for my child.

I share all of this with you because I am notorious for putting it all out there. It doesn't occur to me to keep things to myself. My husband takes issue with my need to tell people how much I spent on the sales rack at Target.

But more importantly, I share this because adoption is beautiful, but it is also very hard. I share this because  other parents and caregivers are struggling today. Post-adoption depression is real. I want you to know you are not alone. At some point, your feelings may be out of your control. Get help. There is no shame in taking care of yourself in order to care for your family.

One last thing: With God's help, we all can be the right parents for our children.

Post-adoption depression resources:
Adoptive Families
Baby Center
Adoption Issues

Jen Hatmaker, After the Airport

Evangeline is five years old today! Thoughts about five years.

Today is Evangeline's birthday. She has officially joined her sister Polly in the five-year-old club.

This morning I sent Evie's favorite treat to school with her to share with her classmates: mini-Hershey chocolate bars :). Before she woke up I hung the Marchenko family birthday sign up for her in the dining room, and each time her three sisters woke up today the first thing they said was, "today is Evie's birthday! Yeah Evie!"Evangeline has been home with us a little over two years so this is her third birthday with us.

In the last two years I've had mixed emotions about Evie's birthday. This year is no different. I woke up today wondering about her birth mom. Is she thinking of Evangeline? Does she go over the day she gave birth five years ago, recalling every detail? Does she remember the moment she decided to sever her parenting rights? Does she think of it all with sadness, or hope, or confusion?

Don't get me wrong. I cannot judge Evie's birth mom. I was not in her shoes. There is no way I can know what she was thinking or feeling when she had Evangeline.

I am just glad that she had her. And I am glad that I get to share in the privilege of being Evie's mother with the woman who grew her in her womb.

Sometimes at the park while Evangeline is swinging, another mother will ask me about her.

"How old is your daughter?"

"She's almost five," I say, and the mother may look at me out the corner of her eye, because Evie more so resembles a two-year-old with her cute, tiny gymnast legs that still house baby pudge. And she doesn't talk. She still doesn't really sign. She's short and little. How can she be five?

When people ask me how old Evangeline is, I consider just lying and saying she is two. That way everything about Evie will be more appropriate and comfortable for all involved.

But today I am thinking about the number five. Evie has been alive five years. And they were hard earned years: two-and-a-half  in an orphanage in Ukraine and the rest with us here in the States. Evie has survived more in her little life than I can ever fathom.

And yet, she has a smile for me today of all days, on her birthday.

So I say happy FIFTH birthday to my youngest daughter. Congratulations, honey. You've come so far. And I can't wait to see what God has for you next.

(And stay tuned for birthday party pictures in the next few days :).

Update on Evangeline

I haven't given a Marchenko family update on Pocket Lint in quite a while. So, here goes!

I will take a day to cover each kid; or else this post will be longer than Santa's Christmas list of who is naughty or nice. I think I'll go youngest to oldest.

Let's start with Evangeline: four years old.

First: The Business...

We've recently completed her yearly specialty appointments: vision, hearing, dermatologist, general pediatric. What else? Oh, we still need to get her in for a spine x-ray because she has a small, but stable gap between two vertebrae that deserves a yearly check up.

Everything looks good. Evie doesn't require glasses. She hears well. She's healthy. We're thankful.

Evie is non verbal. She does not use sign language, but did start to wave bye consistently. When she is hungry, she goes to her chair and climbs in. She gets her coat and brings it to us when she wants to go outside. Sergei noticed she keeps eye contact more often and for longer amounts of time. She smiles a lot. Her laughter is high pitched and sweet. We are encouraged.

Evie completed four weeks of summer school and now has a break until preschool resumes in September. She is out of her crib and into a big girl toddler bed in the room she shares with Polly. She likes musical toys and hand over hand activity to sing songs and she absolutely loves swinging at the park and at home in her therapy swing.

Seond: The Bonding...

It's still hit or miss with our bonding. Honestly, I am sad about it. Some days I think, we got this!, she loves me and I love her and all is right in the world and other days she's the nonchalant love interest and I'm the brooding teenage crush. I crave her attention. She blows me off.

Our mother-daughter dance is memorized; two steps forward and one step back. She is learning how to be a daughter. And I am learning how to be her mother.

Overall, Evangeline is comfortable in our family. She loves to play with her sisters and has a precious relationship with Sergei. She brightens when he comes into the room. If he is sitting reading or watching a show, she climbs up into his lap for a hug.

My relationship with Evie reminds me of what it must be like for God to have me as his child. I often ignore his loving attention. He has all this goodness to share but I am too suspicious to let him in. All God really wants me to do is come quietly and climb up into his lap. And yet, most of the time, I choose to sit off to the side alone.

Of course, the comparison doesn't pan out. I am so not God, and God is not the type to sulk when I ignore him. And Evie is not the problem child. She is just a little girl learning to love.

I am an impatient mother who wanted love at first site, but got real life instead.

Evie has been home two years and I am still frustrated with our relationship several times a week. I want us to be farther along by now. I look around at other adoptive moms and assume they are better at this than me. I so want to be passed the dating stage with my daughter.

But sometimes I look at her, and she is smiling or laughing or thoughtful, and I am blown away that I get to be in her life. I learn from her. She is the mirror God knew I desperately needed to realize hard truths I choose not to look at about myself.

She could be sitting in an orphanage alone somewhere. She could be sick, or sad or even dead. Instead, she just went to the grocery store with Sergei and will go for a walk with the rest of the family later today. She is here, with us.

She is right where God wants her to be.

And for that, I am glad.

(Interested in special needs adoption? Go to Reece's Rainbow to learn more)

The Cornish family and their amazing adoption story

My friend Meredith and her husband Michael have put together a video chronicling their adoption process. This family puts their yes on the table for God. They take seriously the Biblical mandate to care of widows and orphans.

I met Meredith through on-line Down syndrome support sites and later she was instrumental in her work with Reece's Rainbow in helping us bring Evangeline home.

Check out this video. Pray for these guys. Give towards their financial needs if you can.

Also, 'Wesley' in their video is a little guy from Evie's groupa in her baby house. When we were there last summer we were able to get information and pictures of three kids with special needs to Reece's Rainbow.

The other two children are already adopted and home with loving families. It's Wesley's turn next. Makes me want to cry.
What a story.

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