Amelia is beginning to sleep, thank God!
The first two night she was with us, she was too terrified to sleep. She was happy to be with us in the daylight, but the dark revealed that her little world — the only world she’d ever known — had been shattered. It may have been an orphanage, but it was her home. She was well loved there.
As her eyes closed, it was as if the fear of more turmoil bubbled within her. Eventually, the pressure would build, and instead of sleeping, she’d blow. Like a tea-kettle. Really. She has the most unique cry I’ve ever heard. It sounds like a tea-kettle. It starts normal, but when panic sets in, it becomes shrill, high pitched, and like a loud whistle… and every effort we made to sooth her only escalated her emotions. For hours. All night. Everyone staying in the guest house was affected by our inability to calm our own daughter. So if we weren’t heart-broken enough for her pain, and frustrated enough for our lack of sleep, and feeling powerless enough because our efforts weren’t helping her, we also had to bear the guilt of other guests’ sleepy eyes in the mornings.
But our God answers prayer.
Sometimes, He has something beautiful to teach us through a long struggle. And sometimes, like last night, He surprises us with immediate improvement.
We still got up with Amelia four or five times, but those few times were healthier than before. She never “tea-kettle whistled”. She let us put her back in her pack-n-play, even when it woke her up. And after a bottle, she even smiled as she dozed off in my arms… and then went back to her own bed.
I am so thankful to God that Amelia is gaining peace every day.
On a totally different note, Brad sent an email to several people promising pictures from one of our days’ outings. I am putting them below:
|Brad was so pumped to meet someone wearing a
Niceville First United Methodist Church shirt!
|Uganda’s food court Chick-fil-A|
|Where Amelia’s medical exam was|
|The doctor’s office where her exam was done.|
|The ritziest street we’ve seen in Uganda.|