Fears and tears

Monday, Sept. 15th
Yesterday, I couldn't even write anything.  It was an extremely hard day.  Not physically, anymore than usual.  I've accepted the fact that physically life will be hard from now on.  If he learns to walk, it may be easier, but we don't know if he ever will.
I'm talking about emotionally, mentally and even spiritually.  I'm not sure how to explain, but I'll try.  When we accepted Arouna's referral almost a year ago, we were told he most likely had CP, was blind and was deaf.  We worked thru that, processed that, prayed about it, etc.  Especially Robert wanted to be completely at peace before he said yes.  I felt ready for the challenge with all those issues, but Robert
was more cautious.  He wanted a child that had special needs, but he was concerned about mental deficiencies.  He wanted a child that we adopt to at least know and recognize us.  We asked the orphanage and even had a friend who is a neuroscientist watch a video of him, but everyone said it's too soon to tell.  Robert prayed and prayed and I did too.  He was the child available at the time that had the needs we wanted or so it seemed.
As we've been with Arouna, we've seen his personality, his actions, his behavior, etc.  He is an adorable little boy.  Snuggly, cuddly, smiley, sleeps well, eats well.  But we're coming to the conclusion that it's most likely not CP.  And if it is, it's the cognitive area of the brain that has been affected most.  It's like he's in another world most of the time.  We even think he sees and hears some, but we can't tell how much.
The thing that scares us the most is does he know it's us?  Will he ever know it's us?  Will he ever connect with us?  Will he ever connect with his siblings?  Will others we know (friends and family) just write him off and not even try to get to know him?  Will everyone just feel pity for us for adopting a child that will never connect?
Until a few days ago, I wasn't feeling this way at all.  And then I began to see Robert withdraw.  Withdraw from Arouna, from being with me and Arouna.  I can't do this alone.  I need his help, support, encouragement, optimism.  But I feel as though he sees no hope.  And now he has me wondering if there's hope.
It's hard to think you're getting a child with a certain diagnosis and then arrive and realize it probably isn't  that at all.  It's a shock and in a way, I'm grieving.  With CP, I studied it, knew the potential, know some of the hardships.  With what Arouna has, I don't know.
The last 2 days also, has been a bit fussier.  Ruth and Phillip Matheny say it's because he knows now that his needs will be met, so he's crying to get a response.  We also don't know if he has a stomach ache or is bloated or what.  Sometimes he explodes out of his diaper and other times he goes all morning with no bm.  I guess all of this is just part of learning about him and adjusting to him and him to us.
But I'm scared and it's just now completely sinking in of how hard this will be and how hard the transition will be.
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After Robert and I both cried all this afternoon, we called Ruth to talk with her.  She came over atound 6:30pm and we explained how we felt, the feelings and doubts we're having, the grieving process.  She was so gracious and loving though I know it must be painful for her to hear.  She prayed for us and gave us advice that there will be a big transition and adjustment.
Tonight before I put Arouna in bed, I layed on the double bed and played and tickled him.  He was happy and content and giggled and giggled.  He was very sweet and snuggly too.  His personality really came thru.  I needed those moments as a  confirmation.
I honestly can't do this in my own strength.  It has to be by the grace of God, his strength, His endurance and His love.  Because sometimes I just want to be selfish, but I also know that God can bring great peace and joy.  Phil. 4:5-6