For the birds.

I have stewed about writing on this topic for the past three weeks. For a few reasons. One, it tends to be a bit more personal than I like to get on my blog, I write about personal things often, I just don’t publish them for all of you to read. Two and perhaps more significant, I couldn’t think about it for too long, let alone talk about it without getting emotional.
Wade and I anticipated and expected that this move to a faraway land and faraway from friends and the familiar would come with some challenges. We expected some difficulties adjusting to a new culture, a learning curve on a new way of life and some time getting our bearings. All those things have presented themselves in one form or another, no doubt. But they have been relatively easy to roll with, to learn from and to move forward with a better understanding. What I was not prepared for, was the heart wrenching struggle of my little Tessa Jane.
Not long after we arrived, Tessa started exhibiting concerning behaviors. She would become easily frustrated and agitated, angry, and emotionally irrational. Her tantrums, which I thought had long since disappeared returned with vigor and with much more violence and anger behind them. Most often, the stress she was experiencing would be taken out on me, through yelling, screaming, hitting and even biting. I would, calmly as I could manage, carry her into the bathroom, shut the door and walk down the hall where I would collapse in tears, hearing her throw every object within her reach against the door. I cried out of exasperation, feeling a complete lack of know how, sobbing for her stress and struggle, and the bite mark on my arm that was still stinging. In between the fits of temper, she would ask to watch the video montage her preschool teacher gave her at the end of last year, compiling all the photo’s of her class’s school year. This too would make me teary eyed, knowing there was a hole deep inside her I could not seem to fill.
She mentioned a few times this summer after we’d left California that she missed her friends. But she was busy in Utah, had lots of attention from cousins and grandparents and made a few new friends that lived near by. I thought we were made in the shade and that her resiliency was strong and sure. Then we hopped on an airplane and flew thousands of miles away from anything or anyone that looked like home and the walls came tumbling down. Wade has to work in Saudi 4 days out of the week and so I was left in large part to try and parent and guide this desperate situation on my own. He called concerned several times a day and then on the weekends the poor guy would come home to my crying disaster and wonder I’m sure what he’d done bringing his family here. I think it’s important to note that during this time, I never once felt like we’d made the wrong decision coming here. Odd as it sounds, I felt and still feel, that we are in the right place, doing the right thing for our family. But I became desperate in my urgency to make this life a good one for my daughter. I took to my knees like I have perhaps have never been taken before, I knew no other way. I pleaded for her anxiety to rest, for her to find a place inside herself of peace and calm, to feel comfort in her home and in her family and then I begged for direction. What can I do? Bless me with empathy and understanding. Does she need to be in school? Where should I seek her friendships? I wept as I pleaded to not become paralyzed, my fear of this turning into a situation similar to the one my brother bravely endured for three years as a young boy was very real. She is four, and far to young to endure. We turned to family and friends for support, prayers and fasting and patiently waited for answers and direction. I had hesitated admitting her to school knowing Dubai was a temporary landing spot for us, but I began feverishly researching nursery schools. Perhaps some direction, she needed social interaction outside Bode and I. With in a few days we had visited Emerald City Nursery and had her registered, she seemed eager and excited to go.
The first day came and she put on her backpack and walked in with confidence. Right up until we entered the classroom and she saw not one face she knew. Children gathered in small groups knowing one another from the previous year and interacting. It was clear she immediately was unsure of her place, she looked at me for surety and confidence and bravely, so bravely tried to hold back her tears. It was all I could do to hold back the flood gates. I told her she was going to have a great day, “Be brave, you’ll make some new friends!” and then wonderful Miss Faith swooped in with a hug and a puzzle and I made a bee line to the car where the gates burst wide open. It seems unfair now looking back that I was able to go have a good sob and she was not. She was forced to put on a strong face and brave her day. I prayed every thirty minutes that first day. That she would be ok, that she would find a friend, find courage and confidence. She was happy when I picked her up and it made me hopeful, but as the next several mornings would reveal, the anxiety and lack of confidence in her place and in her new relationships was still causing her unrest. Mornings were tearful and full of, “I don’t want to go’s” and “I want to stay with you’s”. She would always put a stop to the tears before going in the door and would bravely enter her classroom.  I would drop her off wondering if I’d done the right thing, if I needed to pull her out, so proud of her bravery and so full of thoughts that this whole, “make your kids do hard things” stuff was for the birds. Wade would call and see how it went, I could sense worry in his voice and regret that he wasn’t there.
I felt and continue to feel prompted to pray often and to have frequent conversations with Tessa about prayer. To teach her about faith and believing that what you ask Heavenly Father for in your prayers can and will come to pass if you are choosing the right and trying your best. I remind her to pray to be brave, to pray to find friends, to pray for good days. We are not out of the woods yet, but things are getting better. She is consistently pleasant and positive at pickup, I am more confident that school was indeed the right choice and that she will navigate her way through this transition. The concerning behavior is lessening each day and the push back on school mornings is too. Tessa has always been a fighter. I have said several times, that that fight, that that fiesty would serve her well in this life if it was channeled in the right direction. It’s time to channel it baby girl. Fight for your right to resilience. Fight for your right to be the only American at school. Fight for your right to have friends. For your right to courage and strength. This will serve you well Tess, we must believe that it will. It will continue to get better with time and with time, you will be better because of it. And we will continue to pray. We must never, ever cease to pray.