I am not sure who is more nervous right now... Agape or me.
Strange words coming from someone who is as ecstatic about bringing our daughter home as I am! But yesterday - or whatever day the last day in Congo was - (since we have been on plane rides so long right now that I have lost track of today and yesterday... they kinda meld together) ... anyhow, the other day I really started to digest what was coming, and the gravity of the change ahead really hit me. I was sitting with Agape watching the Lion King, and she was especially happy, laughing and giggling. I love her laugh! But this time it sort of made me sad. I have been able to watch Agape interact with her friends and others all week, hear them chatter away, see her confidence as she speaks her mind in Lingala (bossy little thing that she can be sometimes), and watch them look like miniature Congolese women with all the loud African women mannerisms. They ramble on a mile a minute and are all animated with one another. I love this! Then contrast that with how she has to interact with us. Because she cannot communicate well due to a huge language barrier, she uses one word questions, two word sentences, and just laughs a lot as a main form of communication. Oh, and she has the word “NO” down pretty well, but I do not consider that a step “forward” necessirily, ha! But when she is upset about anything she only knows how to say “Ooooooo-mamamamamama....” The word “Mama” communicates that she needs something from me, but otherwise all she can do is cry and moan instead of discuss what she is feeling. And likewise, I cannot ask her what is wrong. I cannot explain to her why I am asking her to do something... or sometimes I can’t even communicate what I am asking her to do. I can’t prepare her for what is coming up, or tell her why it is “going to be OK” when she is upset. She seems like she goes from being a very capable and confident 5 year old in her language, to starting over socially as a helpless 2 year old who struggles to get a grasp on her world. The maturity level - because the coping mechanism of conversation is stressed - reverts. This is so hard for me to see.
OK, OK, OK... I know what so many people are thinking: “Oh, but she will get it soon!” “She will be able to pick it up so fast!” “Love is the universal language. All she needs is hugs and smiles!” “Just act out what you are trying to say, and you will be fine.” Yes, all these things are true, but it is still such a hard process to weather, especially when you are a talker like my daughter and I. In some ways it is like trying to communicate with Justice (our baby boy).
But now this language barrier is taken to a new level... because we are leaving the land of people who can bring her comfort in her own tongue. We are leaving behind anyone and everyone who could be called to translate when she is freaking out and screaming one word over and over but we have no idea what it means. This is not like french or Spanish where I can just use a google app to translate for me... this is Lingala people. Try to find a Rosetta stone on THAT! When we separate with Agape’s friends in the airport in a few short hours, she will never again have a full-on conversation in Lingala. Never! Gone. It will all be different from here on out. In a way, she will be socially isolated for a little while now. The little Congolese girl that I know is going to go through a transformation and she will inevitably come out different for it. This realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I feel for her so much! I don’t know how well I would take this if I was in her shoes! Can you imagine ladies?
And then I get nervous for me, because the social isolation goes two ways. I have so enjoyed getting to know my daughter through people who could help translate what she is saying. I love to hear her rattle off something to me, her big eyes looking all excited, and knowing that somehow I can get someone to help me figure out her message. I have loved everyone helping me learn a little Lingala so that I can make Agape feel a little more comfortable and understood. She gets so tickled when we speak to her in her language. :) It is THE love language for her, and has been major in our bonding. If we can meet her halfway, then she does not feel so alone. We can speak straight to her heart.
One of the other families is adopting two sisters... so however long it takes to learn English, at least they can find solace in one another. It will not be quite as “cold turkey” for them. I wish I could give that to Agape. Unfortunately, she is going have to just dive in and learn how to swim no matter how cold the water! This mama is hurting for her girlie.
So, that’s why I am nervous. I mean, what kind of socio-emotional impact does this have on a kid? Ok, so that sounds dramatic. OK, so it IS dramatic. But hey, I am a mom, and I seriously wonder about those things! I can’t possibly be alone, right? I kind of feel like this was the area of least preparation in our adoption homework and prep courses. We are ready for emotional trauma and acting out. She could even start throwing knives, and I can honestly say that I have read a chapter on it somewhere telling me step-by-step what to do. But I feel at a loss for specifics on how to help Agape learn English. I know that is will eventually “just happen” but there has to a “best” way for me to help. :)
And if you have the answer and you feel so inclined, can you do me a favor and write a book on it? That way all of us adoptive families who have children coming from lands of obscure languages can have some idea of what we are doing to help ourselves and our children cross that daunting “great divide” of the spoken word!
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