Thursday, May 06, 2010
We Have Separation.
Because she is only 4, Natalie didn't really become possessed by the fact that her mother was getting on a plane and flying away from Korea--from the life the three of us have known for the past 14 months--until this morning, when Momma, separated finally by the glass wall of security, looked back and waved as she waited, expressing in face a little of the regret we all felt. Tears came, briefly. We strained to watch through the clear stripes on the window until the last glimpse of Momma was gone.These 13 months have been a long time in Natalie's life, a little stretch of permanence in itself, with its own beginning and end, now to give way to a new recognition, that of the time of Natalie and Daddy, however long we may continue together here until we take our own flight to La Crosse, Wisconsin, where Momma and yet-unborn sister to Natalie have taken their place. She doesn't recognize that we agonized over the decision; she can't fathom the difficulties we've had trying to get Korea's doctorin' system into line with the VBAC mentality--a way of thinking that no doctor we investigated seems willing to step up to. She won't be reasoned with that Momma had to feel language-connected to her situation, something that hasn't been happening here; that that and other factors recommended her to the care of the US system she knew with Natalie. She recognizes only that her Momma is not with her now. She sees that day-to-day goes on the same for her here in Yong-in, Korea as part of a duet rather than a trio. She harbors a longing for reunion. She loved to paint with Momma and is afraid that moments like that are past.
Our time between leaving Momma and getting to school had gone remarkably smoothly. We missed our direct connection bus when Natalie had to used the potty just as the bus pulled up, so we took the next one, headed to Seohyun, and took the subway and bus. Natalie's proving quite an old hand at using public transportation and has acquired a semblance of patience while waiting and a good recognition of her surroundings. As always, her mere presence seemed to be some kind of charm to the people around her, and her old trick of handing around cookies on the subway gained her more retribution in candy than I ever am comfortable with, so she arrived at school with a lot to beg me for--we managed to end the day with most of it still in reserve, however.
Still, she's revealed a remembrance for something I've tried to teach her. Once today, to the end of a sentence about missing Momma, Natalie added, 'but we have to go on.' That in itself was quite a surprise to hear, but I thought about how advanced it seemed. I agreed that we can't spend our time reaching for what we don't have; we have to look forward to what we will get out of all of our planning: a new baby sister and a time of being back together and not going away again. Still, we miss Momma. We can't, at this point, anticipate being present for the birth of the baby, and that adds heaviness to our days. But we do our living.
In this change that reality manifests itself: Natalie is now an everyday presence in my classroom. Neither of us is ready for the daycare option, and the students in my elementary school absolutely have no opposition to her being there. So, I've set up her own desk by the side of mine and have brought in materials and activities that she's familiar with. Today, Thursday, was the opening day in that volley, whatever distance it may achieve. I had a short day, four classes, 1:50 pm to 5:15 pm. We arrived at the school about 1 hour ahead of time, as usual for me.
She was surprisingly well-behaved the first three classes, but revealed to me a gaping hole in my planning in the fourth--the one with the more advanced students: I hadn't brought enough for her to eat. Of course, after the long day she'd had, waking up at an unusually early hour with a full day of activity gone through, she was combining little to eat with little to sleep, and so was more active and interruptive. So I will pack more to eat for her.
I also plan to get her to bed earlier, Momma. We'll see how that works out.
And I plan to clean the apartment, and keep Natalie's toys off the floor, and teaching her to do the same. I have hopes and dreams. . . We've had a good night. We both made Annie's Mac and Cheese and cooked a few pieces of French Toast, the latter which we've been straining toward since the weekend. Natalie delighted in being instrumental in preparation. She remembered impressively what her mother showed her.
We actually were lying down reading some of her books by 10:30, teeth brushed and all. She said not a word about nursing, which she is adamant about when her mother is within reaching distance. I hope that this will prove her drumbeat of independence from it. The new baby will more than take her place in that regard. She was reading to me when I fell asleep, and was asleep when I woke up to write this.
| posted by John at 3:29 PM
