Dr. Husband (the debut of his new nickname!) managed to coax a smile out of Shu.
But then he spent pretty much the rest of the day looking like this. The evening too.
I know that we are moving in the right direction, but my heart breaks to see his sadness. A peaceful day, surrounded by family, gorgeous weather, being held in mama's arms...and still, sadness was the default. Four months home, and he is still sad and angry far too often. Last evening he preferred the comfort of pulling his shirtsleeve up to his little lips over that of snuggling in my arms on the couch. He did not want me, or at least, he only wanted me on his own terms, terms to which I am often completely oblivious. This is a child who has lost so much, and feels so much that he cannot articulate. I see with fresh clarity that he does not yet understand that I am his mommy...that I have so much more to offer than his sleeve...more to offer than his orphanage existence could give him. We have come a good way down the path, but the road which leads to healthy attachment, love, and trust stretches long ahead of us. And there is nothing to do but walk on.
On a lighter note...Dr. Husband had to try out his Tarzan moves.
Desperate for a decent family pic, I deemed this one good enough, leaf in the face, ugly black baby carrier, and all.
I love this man. I really do.
The view from the top. It was worth the climb. A fitting metaphor, I think.