This is Sunny, just figured i'd make my first post about Amay.
In the past year and a half since we decided to adopt, we've gotten a lot of praise. From close friends and relatives to acquaintances there have been many to support us with kind words. And never has support meant more than in the last few months as we've began our journey with Amay.
Yet, something just doesn't feel right when I hear someone tell us about how we've done a wonderful thing or that we've done so much for this child who just a few months ago was in an orphanage in India.
The reason it doesn't feel right is because we really haven't done that much. What have we really done so far? Fill out endless amounts of paperwork, travel to India, and now try to give a child the love and compassion he deserves and has always deserved.
Compare that to what Amay has done. He spent nearly the entire first four years of his life in an orphanage. He so desperately sought the idea of a family that when the day came to leave everything that he'd know in his life behind, he calmly took Sumi's hand and walked out of the orphanage without even wanting to say goodbye.
Amay calmly walked into a completely unknown world. Filled with unknown things, unknown places, unknown languages, and unknown people. He went from house to house and city to city in India, meeting new family members. Every new place we went he'd ask, "Ame-ti-ka?" And we'd tell him no, this isn't America yet.
I still remember him when we'd take him to the park in India. He'd be laughing and playing one minute but then he'd have moments where he'd just sit still at the bottom of the slide; alone, with a sad look on his face, staring out blankly.
Was he scared? Probably, but he couldn't even communicate that to us or maybe he didn't want to out of fear that he'd have to go back to orphanage. The only thing that was familiar to him was a cartoon called "Chota Bheem" that he wanted to watch endlessly, likely because it was his comfort. He still managed to enjoy the simple things in life that he'd never experienced before; a shower, a bottle of coke, a lollipop; the things we take for granted everyday.
Once he arrived at our home in Bolingbrook he asked again, "Ame-ti-ka?" And finally we could answer with a yes. Once he heard that answer the change in his behavior was immediate. How relieved he must have been to know that he was finally home. And yet the challenges were just beginning.
Amay still has to learn two languages. To this day he still isn't capable of deciding when he's had enough food to eat because he's never had that decision to make during the first four years. He still craves love and attention so much that even if someone he just met grabs hold of his hand, Amay won't want to let go. He has so much catching up to do in all different areas. Not to mention that he still has a family that is working to figure out how to love him like their own.
I always tell my oldest son Satya that nothing in life is given to you. That you have to earn every thing you get. But what if you don't even have an opportunity to earn it? That's what's unfair about life. Amay will get that opportunity but he's going to have to work harder than most to earn the things he wants. That's not a problem though, because I can see incredible strength in this four year old.
Being the typical guy, I don't really like to talk about my feelings, but I'll admit that many times I used to tear up just thinking about my kids and how much I love them. And now I tear up when thinking about Amay but it's for a different reason.
I can't help but think about what he's been through and what he must still be going through. I think about the courage that he's shown in fighting through the hundreds of changes that he's encountered in the last few months... and still keep going. I can't imagine one of my other two kids being ripped out of their current environment and having to start all over in a new country with a new family, new languages, and new everything.
As a parent, his strength is my motivation. If he can work through all those challenges, I can surely work through mine as well. After all, he's MY son and I'm proud of what he's done. At the end of the day, I'm going to make sure that he has all the opportunities he deserves to earn the things he wants.
So yes, we filled out a lot of paperwork and traveled to India, but beyond that all we've done is try our best to raise a son... just like everyone else. What Amay is doing is extraordinary. This is not to say that I don't appreciate all the kind words people have offered but I just want everyone to know that the little guy beside me is the one doing all the work.
In the past year and a half since we decided to adopt, we've gotten a lot of praise. From close friends and relatives to acquaintances there have been many to support us with kind words. And never has support meant more than in the last few months as we've began our journey with Amay.
Yet, something just doesn't feel right when I hear someone tell us about how we've done a wonderful thing or that we've done so much for this child who just a few months ago was in an orphanage in India.
The reason it doesn't feel right is because we really haven't done that much. What have we really done so far? Fill out endless amounts of paperwork, travel to India, and now try to give a child the love and compassion he deserves and has always deserved.
Compare that to what Amay has done. He spent nearly the entire first four years of his life in an orphanage. He so desperately sought the idea of a family that when the day came to leave everything that he'd know in his life behind, he calmly took Sumi's hand and walked out of the orphanage without even wanting to say goodbye.
Amay calmly walked into a completely unknown world. Filled with unknown things, unknown places, unknown languages, and unknown people. He went from house to house and city to city in India, meeting new family members. Every new place we went he'd ask, "Ame-ti-ka?" And we'd tell him no, this isn't America yet.
I still remember him when we'd take him to the park in India. He'd be laughing and playing one minute but then he'd have moments where he'd just sit still at the bottom of the slide; alone, with a sad look on his face, staring out blankly.
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| Amay in India; one of his moments at the bottom of the slide |
Was he scared? Probably, but he couldn't even communicate that to us or maybe he didn't want to out of fear that he'd have to go back to orphanage. The only thing that was familiar to him was a cartoon called "Chota Bheem" that he wanted to watch endlessly, likely because it was his comfort. He still managed to enjoy the simple things in life that he'd never experienced before; a shower, a bottle of coke, a lollipop; the things we take for granted everyday.
Once he arrived at our home in Bolingbrook he asked again, "Ame-ti-ka?" And finally we could answer with a yes. Once he heard that answer the change in his behavior was immediate. How relieved he must have been to know that he was finally home. And yet the challenges were just beginning.
Amay still has to learn two languages. To this day he still isn't capable of deciding when he's had enough food to eat because he's never had that decision to make during the first four years. He still craves love and attention so much that even if someone he just met grabs hold of his hand, Amay won't want to let go. He has so much catching up to do in all different areas. Not to mention that he still has a family that is working to figure out how to love him like their own.
I always tell my oldest son Satya that nothing in life is given to you. That you have to earn every thing you get. But what if you don't even have an opportunity to earn it? That's what's unfair about life. Amay will get that opportunity but he's going to have to work harder than most to earn the things he wants. That's not a problem though, because I can see incredible strength in this four year old.
Being the typical guy, I don't really like to talk about my feelings, but I'll admit that many times I used to tear up just thinking about my kids and how much I love them. And now I tear up when thinking about Amay but it's for a different reason.
I can't help but think about what he's been through and what he must still be going through. I think about the courage that he's shown in fighting through the hundreds of changes that he's encountered in the last few months... and still keep going. I can't imagine one of my other two kids being ripped out of their current environment and having to start all over in a new country with a new family, new languages, and new everything.
As a parent, his strength is my motivation. If he can work through all those challenges, I can surely work through mine as well. After all, he's MY son and I'm proud of what he's done. At the end of the day, I'm going to make sure that he has all the opportunities he deserves to earn the things he wants.
So yes, we filled out a lot of paperwork and traveled to India, but beyond that all we've done is try our best to raise a son... just like everyone else. What Amay is doing is extraordinary. This is not to say that I don't appreciate all the kind words people have offered but I just want everyone to know that the little guy beside me is the one doing all the work.
You both are doing a great job! Thank you for writing from a daddy's prospective. I hope sometime after we get Ranjit home we can get the boys together. We're only about 1.5 hours from you :)
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