Dust it off

I feel like I’m testing for an echo.

Echo. Echo.

Anyone there?

When I start writing again y’all know its going down. I’ve coincidentally been thinking about this blog more and more within this past week and sure enough, just a few minutes ago I got another crazy comment on this post (from someone clearly hurting from a crazy infertile woman, but that I’ll spare you all from). I think I should go back and read that every once in a while because dang, that was just what I needed to hear. I wrote that over 8 years ago and it all still holds true.

Blogging was good for me. It was some accountability for what I need to do anyway, process my thoughts. In diary I can just be crazy. But here, I had to make it go somewhere and be helpful.

Plus my handwriting is awful. Embarrassingly awful.

My last post was titled “We had a daughter”. My current life post is titled “We have two sons.” Mateo picked out his own outfit today and came downstairs in a royal blue T-shirt, matching mine. I started it. It becomes an unsaid game in our family, because whoever puts it on first in our family will encourage us all to go change and try to match. A little matching moonheads blueberry T-shirt family. We bought them for a fundraiser for a friend of a friend, and they say “Adoption is love” in small letters on a hand drawn heart. He ran to me so proud and jumped into my arms, in which I promptly hugged and squeezed him and smothered his little soft, sweet cheeks with kisses and told him repeatedly how much I love him.

“Look it says, ‘Adoption is love.’ Hey Mateo, did you know that you were adopted??” I asked him as he sat on my lap.

“Yeah” he drawled, as he usually responds to most things.

“You were born in China and then we got to go meet you and adopt you and bring you into our family!”
“Yeah”. Quite agreeable this morning. Maybe he’s actually understanding.

“I love adoption. Baba loves adoption. And so does Gege. It brought us you!”

“Yeah. Oh look Jesus!” Pointing to the fridge. Ok, a little off-topic. Maybe he’s still with me though… “Go up to sky. On soccer ball.” Alright, we’ve lost him.

We’ve had similar ‘conversations’ before in the almost 2 years he’s been home. We’re sure to have more conversations that will cover more of the details, and hopefully he’ll get it at some point, but that just about sums it up right now. Your awkward mom smothering you unreasonably and trying to be all profound, while you’re just trying to be a normal kid and talk about Jesus on soccer balls.

Sorry I squeeze and kiss you boys so much. I just can’t believe these miracles.

 

 

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