The sweetness
Tuesdays are date night. For you and me, that is. Daddy has a class down in Kalamazoo and we have the entire evening to ourselves. It's become a tradition to go out for dinner together. So tonight I thought we'd hit Target for some last-minute shopping before we head out to Boston on Friday, followed by dinner at Noodles & Co. (they make a mean mac 'n cheese).
You were fine with my plan in spirit, but your body wasn't cooperating. You started to fall asleep before we even made it to the store. I had to threaten to tickle you and to make silly "Boo!" sounds to keep you from drifting off. When you got in the cart, you kept laying your head down on the handle. You only perked up when I mentioned that we were going to pick up some extra pairs of underwear for our travels. So you stayed pretty alert during the rest of the shopping, and even for some of the meal.
After a few bites of macaroni, though, you told me you wanted to go home. "I tired, Mommy." After I strapped you into the car, you said, "I have a feeling that I love you." Coupled with an adorable head tilt and grin. Ten minutes into the ride home, you were asleep. At 6:40. Tomorrow morning is going to come way too early for me, I can tell!
The "I love you's" have been coming fast and furious lately. You really know how to charm the ladies. And even the gentlemen. On our walk home from the dog park last night, you asked, "Where's my daddy?" I told you he was at home and we'd see him in a few minutes. "I miss him SO much," you said.
You asked me during last week's date night if you could whisper in my ear. "I love you," was the secret you wanted to tell me.
You also do this sweet thing sometimes when I reach out and touch you. You'll grab my arm and pull it close to you. You did this at breakfast the other morning and didn't want to give my arm back.
The love extends to the pets too. You were taking a bath the other night and Juliette and Lucy were crashing the party. Juli kept licking the water off the side of the tub, which made you giggle. But every time I turned around there was a pet in my way, so I said, "There are too many animals in this bathroom. Someone's gotta go!" But you didn't agree. "No, Mommy! They are my friends. I love them. And when we go away, I miss them very much." So sweet.
I'm so glad you seem to understand tenderness and compassion. I swear I smother you with hugs and kisses some days. Daddy does too.
Sometimes I have a few insecurities, though. I've read the adoption stories about kids who long to find their birth mothers. It's a natural feeling, I'm sure. I know you're going to have all kinds of curiosity about yours and I want to tell you as much as I know. But in some of those stories, I was struck by the seemingly off-handed comments about the birthparents. Quotes like, "I know they loved me, but..." Or "They raised me and took care of me, but..."
I understand that these kids are trying to find a piece of themselves. I can relate to that feeling slightly myself when it comes to the non-existent relationship I had with my own dad growing up. I always wondered why he wasn't in my life. The experience has to be so much more poignant and painful for an adoptee. What bothers me is how the adoptive parents are kind of relegated to second place in some of these scenarios.
"I know they loved me, but..."
I hope you'll search for you birth mom when you grow up. I want you to know her. I want to know her too. But I hope the strength of our love for you is always obvious. That it wraps you up and comforts you and makes you stronger. I don't want you to just know that we love you, but to feel it inside of you every day. I will never be the woman who gave birth to you, but I will always be the woman who loved you beyond words.
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