As I sit and write this blog, my 11-month-old son eats cheerios in his high chair and smiles adoringly at me. We giggle and wave "hi" to each other as I sip my coffee. How I love this little boy.
He'll be a year old on Thursday. I still can't believe it. One minute I was joking around with my husband after an intimate moment, holding my legs straight up in the air, laughing about my Mom, who preferred that we have another birth child instead fufill my dream of fostering. The next minute, the joke was on ME as I puked in the toilet and begged my 12-year-old son to go to the local Japanese restaurant and get me yet another box of edamame, the only food I could tolerate for most of the next nine months. Now, my little surprise sits and eats Cheerios, chewing with his one tooth and stopping to gaze at me and smile every few bites.
Even more amazingly, our second foster baby is upstairs cuddling and drinking a warm bottle with my husband, pensively holding her stuffed Beagle and stroking his ear. She will be eight months old tomorrow, and I still can't believe that she's been here longer than our first foster baby, Little Missy.
When the Princess first arrived back in June, only two weeks after our Little Missy went to live with her Dad and his family, I had a huge "What did I do??" knot in my stomach as I gazed at her little newborn self. My baby was four months old at the time and sleeping well, and my five-year-old was starting summer camp with his older brothers in two weeks. I don't know how it was possible that my brain said "No" while my mouth was saying "Yes" to this tiny baby.
The rest of the summer is a blur. Logan no longer slept well, and I spent those warm summer nights moving from one crying baby to the next as each discovered that they were not exclusively mine. Life was a moving picture that I cannot remember watching.
Then, something changed. It wasn't one moment that did it. Rather, it was - and is - all of the small moments wrapped up together. The first time I saw her sucking her left thumb, just like I did as a baby. The first time she cried for me at bedtime, then sighed and fell asleep with her cheek against mine, and every time after that one. Every time one baby sees the other crying and, very earnestly, reaches over and strokes the hand of the other.
My husband has now brought the Princess downstairs for breakfast. As I type this, both babies sit in their high chairs watching me. Logan is crying for more cheerios, and the Princess is playing with her sock, one bow in her disheveled hair, while sucking her thumb. The three of us share a vanilla yogurt together. Life is very, very good.
What did I do when I agreed to take the Princess in only two weeks after tearfully saying goodbye to my Little Missy? What I did was open my heart to love again. It has now come back to me tenfold.
I don't know what the future will hold or whether the Princess will be staying with us. All I know is that right now, in this moment, we are a family.
No comments:
Post a Comment