Let me tell you a story...

A few nights ago I was tucking our oldest in bed. Giving him lots of kisses and snuggles as he requested. I don't remember how it came about, I think I may have called him a baby; he replied saying "I grew in your tummy like Nienie (his little sis)." He sat up in bed and pushed his index finger into my stomach and said "Right there!" I didn't expect his words to pain me like they did. Not really for how hard it is to explain the complications of adoption to a three year old, but more for the pain I never want him to feel. I quickly tried to suppress the pain and frankly a little bit of the shock of his statement, it caught me off guard. I said something like "Oh Zach, remember how you got to have two mommies, one where you grew in her tummy and loved you so much she looked for the best family for you, and one mommy that gets to see you every day, and is SOO happy you came to live with her." Ugh, it always sounds so weird, even to me, an adult who understands the complicated process. I tried to tell him how happy daddy and I were that we got to be his mommy and daddy now. I suck at telling him, searching for the best words, and hoping some of my own disappointment in the way a mother could be so wasteful with her precious gift doesn't come out in my tone. We always try to put the birth mom in the best light we can... that she loved him so much she wanted the best for him. It feels like a hard story to tell.

Today we were snuggled up in our bed, WAY too early this morning. David was awake but had his eyes closed, I was sitting up telling a very energetic boy to settle down. He started "Let me tell you a story..." He gets confused. You see, he makes that statement and then nothing follows. We finally figured out he wants US to tell HIM a story. I'm sure he will figure it out soon, I hope. Anyway, I obliged.

"Once upon a time there were a mommy and daddy who searched ALL OVER the State of Oregon looking for the perfect baby boy. They wanted a baby boy to love, so they looked all over. They looked in the mountains, in the city, in the country and by the rivers." A little voice interjected "And at the beep too" (the "beep" means his grandparents loft downtown in a nearby city). "And at the beep too" I echoed. "They looked high and low, far and near, everywhere they knew to look. They wanted a boy who liked to play outside, and in the mountains, and at the parks. A boy who liked garbage trucks and..." I got cut off so he could say ..."tractors and Kubota rides" and in sweet, sweet unison we both said "choo choo trains". He giggled, I laughed and fought tears and Davids eyes smiled. I honestly don't remember much of the next few sentences because that moment felt SO good, so sweet and so real.  I went on to tell him about the phone call that made us laugh and jump and cry because we were so happy our little boy had been found. Our perfect little boy. I told him about the first time we met him and he had a binky in his mouth, he then showed me how he liked to suck a binky. I told him about how he would climb up his little slide and then slide down, over and over and over and over and over... and then every once in a while he would go get a drink of milk. He interrupted again "I really like milk".  Then I told him while everyone wanted to hug and kiss him, Papa Brent just scooped him up and kissed him, and that he really liked it. "I really love Papa Brent" he said with sweet eyes. "I know. He really loves you." He started to look a little bored, so I said "And the very first morning you ever woke up in your new house, you peed on mommy and daddy's bed. Right here." He laughed, oh he laughed!


And then, the story didn't seem that hard to tell...





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This was the first photo and the only photo David and I saw for 3 months until we found out we got to be Mommy and Daddy.