But the questions begin...and the doubt remains
These past two weeks have been filled with questions...and statements...and glances...and the occasional fearful eyes. Our boys look like any other three kids, sound like any other three kids, fit in like any other three kids. Oh yes, they still have very obvious Ethiopian accents...but English is coming- faster for some than others. We have braved Target twice this week for random items and I have not trembled with fear at the thought of what seeing that much stuff in one place might cause someone to do. Although someone did ask quite loudly if it was okay to eat cotton balls. Normal life is returning...
But normal life does not mean there aren't questions and doubts..."We all Mommy's children?" "I no from your tummy." "We're going back???" Little things that have been misinterpreted and someone is suddenly struck with fear that they are going back to Ethiopia. The realization we are different colors...maternity pictures...baby pictures of Little Man and Little Miss...all of it stirs emotions- raises eyebrows.
My response has been honesty.
Obviously when it comes to color- well- its obvious.
"I want to look like you mommy."
"Oh honey, your skin is such a beautiful brown and I love it so much. Families don't have to look the same...we are still a family."
"Mommy only has two children."
"I have five children, you're right if you are saying you didn't come from my tummy. But you are still my child."
We acknowledge that their birthmother is who gave birth to them... I reassure them that it is okay to have two mommies (birth and adoptive)...that God has plans for our lives and above everything else He is our heavenly father who never forgets about us. I tell them how we came up with their middle names (we kept their ET first names) and remind them we chose each one just for them.
"We're not brothers and sisters."
"You are, in adoption and isn't that the coolest thing ever."
And we role play, and reassure....and then I see it click- and from the kitchen window I see a big brother take Little Miss and gently lift her onto the swing and push her. Giggles fill the backyard...and I continue sweeping the kitchen as if nothing miraculous has occurred.
This is adoption. Where transition seems to end...normal life resumes...the hurt remains...and the healing continues.
These past two weeks have been filled with questions...and statements...and glances...and the occasional fearful eyes. Our boys look like any other three kids, sound like any other three kids, fit in like any other three kids. Oh yes, they still have very obvious Ethiopian accents...but English is coming- faster for some than others. We have braved Target twice this week for random items and I have not trembled with fear at the thought of what seeing that much stuff in one place might cause someone to do. Although someone did ask quite loudly if it was okay to eat cotton balls. Normal life is returning...
But normal life does not mean there aren't questions and doubts..."We all Mommy's children?" "I no from your tummy." "We're going back???" Little things that have been misinterpreted and someone is suddenly struck with fear that they are going back to Ethiopia. The realization we are different colors...maternity pictures...baby pictures of Little Man and Little Miss...all of it stirs emotions- raises eyebrows.
My response has been honesty.
Obviously when it comes to color- well- its obvious.
"I want to look like you mommy."
"Oh honey, your skin is such a beautiful brown and I love it so much. Families don't have to look the same...we are still a family."
"Mommy only has two children."
"I have five children, you're right if you are saying you didn't come from my tummy. But you are still my child."
We acknowledge that their birthmother is who gave birth to them... I reassure them that it is okay to have two mommies (birth and adoptive)...that God has plans for our lives and above everything else He is our heavenly father who never forgets about us. I tell them how we came up with their middle names (we kept their ET first names) and remind them we chose each one just for them.
"We're not brothers and sisters."
"You are, in adoption and isn't that the coolest thing ever."
And we role play, and reassure....and then I see it click- and from the kitchen window I see a big brother take Little Miss and gently lift her onto the swing and push her. Giggles fill the backyard...and I continue sweeping the kitchen as if nothing miraculous has occurred.
This is adoption. Where transition seems to end...normal life resumes...the hurt remains...and the healing continues.
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