Parenting has not been easy for the Warrens.
First, they found out they couldn't have children after years of trying. Then, Spotsylvania residents Chris and Bryan Warren turned to adoption, not in America, but from overseas.
Again, they had to wait years.
"We were scared to adopt domestically," explained Chris relating how friends had experienced problems with birth mothers changing their minds and taking the babies back.
"Infertility is a hurtful thing anyway," she continued reflectively. "I just didn't think I could take anymore."
After waiting a year, then two, they opened the options window wider by changing their request from a baby to a child under 5.
In 1995, they found Oana, 4 years old and Romanian. She was small for her age, and they were told she was perhaps developmentally delayed.
"They showed us a picture of this little girl with brown hair and brown eyes," said Bryan. "How could you say no?"
They said yes.
The first night with their daughter at home in America, they were kicked, spit on and hit. In Romania, she had learned to hold her breath and pass out in anger.
"She didn't speak any English, we didn't speak any Romanian," said Bryan.
The homecoming was one of hurt and confusion that would bleed into the next six years.
Oana was diagnosed with attention deficit with hyperactivity disorder, put on Ritalin and "made into a zombie," said Bryan. She had fetal alcohol syndrome and had suffered malnutrition at the orphanage.
"She didn't even know how to suck on a straw [when we first got her] because they cut the ends of the bottle off [at the orphanage] so they could feed her faster," Bryan said.
They also learned to check her mouth at night because she would hoard food, afraid of hunger.
Still, that didn't explain all her symptoms or behavior, until 2002 when a school psychologist diagnosed Oana with autism.
"It was devastating when we first heard the word autism," said Chris.
And despite a diagnosis, issues don't change.
Oana had never known what it was like to have a friend, even though she attended special education classes.
"Normal" children teased her. They still do. Schoolmates near her Wilderness Battlefield area home have dubbed her "fire girl," Bryan explained, because she holds her hands over her ears when the fire alarm goes off at school. She can't ride her bike in the neighborhood anymore because schoolchildren hound her with that epithet.
Whether she comes out or not, they point out where "fire girl" lives.
In Wal-Mart recently, some children from her school chanted "fire girl, fire girl," her father said, shaking his head.
But last year, the Warrens became part of Area 11 Special Olympics and a new door of hope has opened, bringing a refreshing change.
Oana has won four gold medals and two silver in equestrian and swimming events. She has participated in cheerleading and is now playing golf.
When asked what she liked best about showmanship in the equestrian competition, the now-14-year-old exclaimed, "I win a lot."
Immediately, she covered her face with her hands, laughing and peeking between her fingers with a bright shyness.
She made eye contact and watched what was going on around her. She radiated joy. It was one of her good days, her parents said.
They are learning to appreciate the good and not apologize for the bad.
Area 11 has helped them with that.
"It's therapeutic for the parents," Bryan said. "We don't have to explain our child."
Plus, they are learning about other disabilities and seeing the unconditional kindness and love these children have.
"It's a real blessing to be around these kids," Chris said.
"The hearts they've got," continued Bryan, "it doesn't matter what disability they have, they accept each other."
They're seeing a new side of Oana, as well. "There were things we didn't know about her," her mom explained. "We hadn't seen her around other kids."
Now, Oana has friends who call her on the phone, friends who don't tease. Chris and Bryan have made friends who understand their family dynamic.
The bonds within the family are becoming stronger through looking with different eyes at the world around them and the different people who make up that world.
"You couldn't pry her out of our arms, could you?" Bryan asked the diminutive teen snuggled next to him on the couch. She beamed with eyes shining.
She might not be able to hold a conversation or tell you what day the Fourth of July is, but she smiles, and her smiles are worth gold to her family.
"We've all gone on this journey together," Chris said.
They both know it's not over. But, it has gotten better, and they hope they are better for it.
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