Rejection

          Christine and I go way back, all the way to when she first arrived in November 2012.  She was just 1 ½ at the time, and she didn’t interact with anyone, didn’t smile, didn’t cry.  My niece Michaela, who was with me on that trip, simply held her during the day and loved on her.  When Michaela wasn’t holding her, I was.  I sang Christine to sleep in my arms pretty much every day.

            I then returned in January 2013 for my five-month leave of absence, and Christine and I continued to bond.  She wanted me to hold her.  She started to smile.  She played with me.  I continued to hold her and sing her to sleep.  Over the years we have become very close.  She remembers me and has always run to me when I arrive, and I look for her first so that I can swing her up into my arms. 

            The trip was no different.  At first.  We played.  We went to the beach together and had a great time.  Then I got sick and had to return unexpectedly to the States for two weeks.   I came back ten days ago, and, like always, looked for Christine first when I arrived at the orphanage. 

            She wouldn’t look at me.  I picked her up to kiss her hello, and she screamed and cried.  She only stopped when I passed her off to someone else.  That behavior has not changed since that first day back.  Every time I picked her up, she screamed and cried until I put her down.  She won’t even look at me.  I have been shocked at how much her rejection has hurt.  I miss hanging out with her.  I miss sitting and holding her.  I miss her smile and her laugh.  I have no idea what happened or why she doesn’t trust me or feel safe with me anymore, and it breaks my heart.

            I don’t know what to do to get her to trust/care for me again.  I seriously thought about winning back her affections with treats, walks, and trinkets; but that isn’t right.  I’ve given up trying to engage her, and I just watch from afar.  If she ever does make eye contact, I smile.  I don’t push anything.  The other day when I had to take some rattle balls down to the therapy room, I had more than I could carry in my hands, so I tossed her one.  Yesterday when a visiting group was handing out squishy balls to play with, I made she got one first. 

            I pray that God will heal our relationship before I leave, but I fear I will run out of time.  I fear that I will have to leave before we reconnect, and then the next time I come she will remember that she doesn’t trust me and we may never reconnect.  I am jealous of the folks that she lets hold her because I don’t get to do that anymore.  I am jealous of the folks who get to play with her and swing with her because I just get to watch. 

            This past week has given me the teeniest, tiniest glimpse into what a parent must feel when a child doesn’t want to be held or pushes away.  If I feel this amount of hurt, what must a parent feel?  What must it feel like when one’s own flesh and blood can’t or won’t allow you to connect with them?  Too hard to imagine.