Intense, liguid, black eyes that stare at you with a burning intensity.  Extremely shy, quiet in nature; she would rather watch than participate.  Sleek, black hair that tumbles in haphazard curls down her back like a black dark waterfall. 

That is our daughter, Mukhtar, in all her glory.  We adopted her a few months back from Mumbai, India, after waiting for what seemed like forever.  Mukhtar is finally home; she finally has the family she's probably craved for all of her life!

We started the adoption process over a year and a half ago.  We didn't think we'd ever hear anything; then six months ago, we got word that we were getting a little girl from India:  Mukhtar, then aged six.  She was healthy but lived in an orphanage:  she had no parents, no family to take care of her. 

We were elated, as you can very well imagine.  We were getting a little girl!! 

We got started on a little-girl's dream room right away:  canopy bed.  Princess wall-paper.  Dresser.  A roomy, spacious closet for her clothes.  A sturdy toybox to hold all her toys.  It was going to be heaven for a little girl who previously had nothing but the will to survive on her own. 

She had been found on the streets when she was three, begging for food.  She was tiny, skinny, malnourished, one of millions of poor people in a big, sprawling city.

We practiced saying her name.  Mukhtar.  Mukhtar.  It sounded  foreign on our American tongues.  Yet we liked it; it fit our (soon-to-be) daughter; after all, that was her given name; it was what she was known by ever since we first heard about her.

The day came when the Indian adoption officials made the announcement when Mukhtar would be joining us in America:  she was ready!  Yet that couldn't compare to the day when she actually arrived by plane all the way from India!  We went to the airport to pick her up:  me, my husband, and our three boys, ages fifteen, twelve, and two.  Mukhtar was to have three brothers to roughhouse with; she went from an orphan child in India to a child having family in America.  Her dearest wish was about to come true !

When she came off the plane with our adoption social worker, it was the happiest day of our lives!  She looked so tiny, so small, so bewildered; she didn't have a clue what was going on or who all these people were.  It scared her so much she clung tightly to Miss Wall's legs and buried her face.  Miss Wall then introduced her to us as her family; we were scared that she might try to run away when loving, eager hands reached out, but she didn't.  She remained frozen in place, obviously terrified.

Those first few weeks with Mukhtar were the hardest.  She would wake up in the middle of the night, screaming in her native language (we didn't know what she spoke, let alone, what she said; we just knew she was very frightened).  She wasn't toilet-trained, so disposable diapers were in order (we didn't have to worry about that:  our youngest child, Canaan Daniel, was still not toilet-trained, nor did it appear he would ever be!  LOL).  We had a time trying to find clothes that fit, let alone, looked good on her. 

In addition to her sleeping and toilet problems, Mukhtar was a very picky eater, as we soon found out (which was probably why she was so scrawny in the first place).  She hated most of the foods our boys loved --  hot dogs, hamburgers, soda pop, potato chips.  The only thing she would eat without any problem was vegetables.  She loved them!!  Most everything else ended up being dumped onto the floor or spat out, a look of disgust on her small, dark-brown face.  LOL

We knew that Mukhtar was developmentally delayed, so we took her to the doctor.  He pronounced her relatively healthy, but our suspicions proved to be correct:  she was developmentally behind most kids her age.  She had the mind of a two-year-old child.  Therapy, both physical and occupational, was prescribed to help her reach her potential and catch up to her peers.  She did speak, but at times she was hard to understand, so she had to have speech therapy as well. 

To find out that our daughter had some special needs was very upsetting, but we were determined to help her grow at all costs.  We wanted her to have the best of everything here in her new home.  She probably didn't have more than the tattered clothes on her back or a small, brown homemade doll.  (She brought that doll with her when she stepped off the plane.)

*To be continued.*