...that I have some kind of particular interest in her.
She has known who I am and recognized me from the beginning, so it's not a matter of understanding who I am, but having the idea that anyone at all might take particular notice of her. I assume that she even has understood that I am her new mother, as she was told that repeatedly at the beginning and hears her sister saying it all the time. Meanwhile, we have been forming a relationship, and she remembers and says things or does things that we had done together the time before, so she is also learning something about me.
But from what I can tell, the idea that any adult -- mother or otherwise -- would seek her out and create a particular bond with her, and care about her over any other child around.... is totally beyond the scope of her little life.
It is not a secret that the girls' mother was deficient in her care-taking. It is partly because she abandoned the family that the girls meet the international definition of "orphan" and can legally be adopted. No one will ever fully know what took place in the family, unless and until Hibiscus gains the confidence and the English skills to tell us more, but there is evidence that there have been problems for years before the mother left the family. Perhaps when the older one was little, there were times when things went smoothly and she got normal care, at least briefly, but I suspect those times were gone by the time the younger daughter came along several years later. Buttercup obviously had some care from her older sister, her father, and other neighbors or relatives, or she wouldn't have survived -- or she wouldn't have gained even the skills that she has.
Her skills are quite reasonable for her age, and they tell a story. Her language abilities seem to be normal: she turns and listens when someone speaks to her, she obviously understands what she is told, and when she speaks it is in fluid phrases or sentences. She picks up new words to communicate with me, and understands and engages in the back-and-forth nature of conversation. So evidently she has had plenty of chance to listen to older people talking, and they made a point to talk to her and encourage her baby babblings. Her fine motor skills are also in the range of normal for her approximate age -- in fact, she has a better pencil grip than Emerson does! She certainly has not have much chance to stack blocks and draw pictures and experiment with all the pushing/turning/flipping toys that are considered necessary for American babies, but she probably has been given sticks and leaves and spoons and household items to experiment with.
The first thing that I notice that is different is a very subtle skill: being carried. When a baby is carried by his mother, he naturally has to constantly adjust his position and his angle to stay upright, and then to be able to look around to see what he wants to see. With these constant adjustments, he develops his neck and core strength, and his proprioceptive sense (of where his body is in space). This is one reason that American parents talk about the importance of wearing the baby in a carrier instead of putting him always in a carseat and stroller. While I agree that it's better for the baby to be carried more often, any baby of earnest American parents is going to be carried around often enough to fulfill normal development -- from one room to another, handed between parents, rocking while nursing, and so on.
A few good rounds of horsey rides on my knees with the orphanage children tells me so much about their lives. I do "Trot trot to Boston" (and thoroughly appreciate the irony of indoctrinating these little Ugandan children in colonial Massachusetts geography!!) and "This is the way the ladies ride" and "My little pony, Macaroni!" (Which, not coincidentally, are three different lengths which can be used to correspond to the number of children waiting to take a turn!) These horsey-knee games, which are so often pulled out to calm a fussy child or to be friendly and silly, actually teach babies and young toddlers important skills. One is that it is heavy exercise for those core muscles and proprioceptive skills. Another is working on rhythm, both linguistic and physical. It also teaches them order and anticipation, which is one beginning step on the long road to logical thinking -- whew, is it ever a long road! The adult says a certain combination of words, and then at a specific point, the physical action changes in a fun way -- they get faster or tip over backwards or fall off the side (when you get to Dover you fall over, of course). After a certain number of repititions, the child starts to anticipate the fun thing, and at this point the adult can dramatically pause or make an excited face or one of many cues to the child to become even more excited. With so many children crowded around playing one after another, they learn about the anticipation before they even get their first turn!
Many of the children here are around 2 or 3. Some of them sit right up and are bounced around and are pleasantly solid, and some of them I actually need to hold by the torso instead of the hands as I bounce them so gently. It doesn't seem to matter if the children are small or large or solid or thin for their age; some of them just do not have the strength to hold themselves steady. I doubt that any of them got a chance to play lots of rounds of horsey-knee games or the core strength games they do at Emerson's gymnastics. There could be exceptions, but the simple answer is that the older toddlers who easily manage this challenge to their core strength, are the ones who had basic practice at core strength by being carried regularly as babies and young toddlers. The ones who start flopping like a much younger child are the ones who were laid on a bed or in a box to fend for themselves for much of their babyhood. Buttercup not only flops in the horsey games, but when I pick her up or move while I'm carrying her, I feel her working a little bit to maintain her balance. Not like I have to think about supporting her head or anything like that, but just like she is younger than she is.
I am not sure the enjoyment of the anticipation leads so directly to telling me something about how the child was brought up, but it is interesting to see as well. Some of the children, especially the older ones, start laughing hysterically as soon as the song starts -- they know that something fun is coming, and they are capable of enjoying the anticipation the entire time! That's probably a pretty good skill when you get only a couple minutes of adult attention each day. Violet, who is quiet and clearly unhappy at the orphanage and mostly just wants to be held, starts to grin as soon as the song starts, and smiles pretty consistently throughout, although sometimes I get a giggle out of her when I tip her over. She is more entertained by the act of playing the game than the punchline itself. Some of the children learn the point of anticipation before their turn even comes around, from watching the others, and some of them take several repetitions before they start to trust that it's going to come in the same place. Some of them make the most exuberant expressions when the moment of anticipation comes, that it makes me laugh out loud. These children are determined to enjoy their moment of fun with all the intensity of their beings!
Buttercup, meanwhile, watches me incredibly seriously and intently. One day, after I had been here a week or so, the other children weren't around and I had the chance to ride her on my knee over and over and over again. She held my fingers in her little fists and stared into my eyes as though she was going to find the solution to the mystery of the universe -- or at least the mystery of this new human being who kept smiling at her. Making eye contact is actually one of the first and most important goals for children with complex backgrounds, so I encouraged it and kept her trotting. I could see her brace herself differently or glance around at the moment before the tip-over came along, so she knew it was coming, but apparently didn't feel like she had enough energy left over from watching me in order to giggle.
I try to tell if she wants to keep playing a game like this, and I think she does, but the signs are very subtle, and I think also tell a story of her expectations of adults. Take a different game I play with her: playing "this little piggy went to market" on her fingers and toes. Maybe she's sitting on my lap or in the sling and I do it a few times, and perhaps someone else says something to me and I get distracted and stop. How would a non-verbal little toddler try to indicate to the grown-up that she would like the attention back and the game to continue? If you have such a child around, you can think about what they might do. Probably grab my hand and pull it back to theirs, or stick their fingers back in my hand or towards my face. They might use whatever words or sounds they have, like "mama" or even just grunting, or making the rhythm of the song again. I remember when Emerson was little he would put his hands on my cheeks to turn my face back to looking at him.
What does Buttercup do? She watches me for a little while, to see where my attention is, and if I'm going to look at her again. (She might be watching carefully to see if I'm suddenly mad at her or someone else, or if there are any signs that I might start yelling or do something to her.) She might glance at her fingers, and then back at my eyes to see if I'm looking at her fingers. After a minute or two, there might be a little tiny movement with her hands. What is she doing? She is holding one straight finger with the fingers on her other hand. After a minute she holds the next finger. She is playing This Little Piggy by herself, with her own hands. Whether this is because she has decided that she has lost my attention and she needs to entertain herself again, or that she is trying to draw my attention back to the game but only if I decide to look at her first, I'm not sure. I think it is the latter, because she acts pleased (not surprised) when I take her hand back and play the game again... but with a good dose of expecting-to-entertain-herself thrown in.
So this week, she has started to notice that she has some claim on me. When I came to get her on Monday morning, to bring her along to the Probation Officer's, when I picked her up she not only looked pleased and cooperative, she reached her arm around my neck and actively held on. She was just tickled pink to ride in the car and sit on my lap while we waited and waited. On Wednesday when I came on the same errand, she had an even stronger sense of expectation and belonging. She grinned and held onto my neck, and she remembered our routine too. She remembered that I always put a diaper on her, so as soon as I stood her on the table where I have done that before, she pulled up her own little dress for me.
She smiles at me when we get ready to go or I put her in the sling or get ready to do something else, instead of just staring in wonder. She's starting to understand that she knows what I'm going to do next, and it's going to involve her. She still doesn't push through a crowd of children to get to me (quite the opposite), but if I reach down to pick her up, she doesn't look over her shoulder to see who I'm looking for, either. And when I brought her to our apartment for the afternoon, she was not only happy -- she was comfortable, and she even ran back and forth and jumped up and down several times and made some happy excited sounds that were actually loud.
It's a long journey toward trust, let alone to love, so these are some of the baby steps.
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