I was reminded of that when someone unfamiliar with the past seven weeks of our life said to Doc that Punkersnoodle looks just like him. She went on and on sincerely, and Doc smiled with the gentle pride of a father holding his son and said, ‘Thank you”.
It’s a complement munchkin, trust me.
While we were completing our paperwork for our Ethiopian adoption over the past two years, a thought kept popping up waaaay back in the recesses of my brain and I’d swat at it every time, but it hung around like an obnoxious fly, reappearing just when I thought it was finally gone.
Will I wish we had a son that looked like us- was part of our DNA- and if I gave birth to one later on, would I love him more than the son we’re adopting?
I hated myself for having the thought, but I had no way to satiate it with an answer. Optimistic til I die, I liked to think that I wouldn’t. That it was all the same. But I didn’t know. I just couldn’t answer myself, and so the thought kept on buzzing.
After seven weeks of being Punkersnoodle’s mama, I’ve put that thought to rest. Just like you don’t notice the exact moment when that fly that’s been hanging around your windows for days and your lamps for nights finally goes away unless someone brings it’s memory to current consciousness- I never noticed when that thought left my brain alone. It wasn’t until that stranger brought it up that I realized- “Oh yeah, it’s not around anymore.” I was blessed to adopt my son and give birth to my girlies. I know what a mother’s love feels like from both perspectives now, and I’m so happy to say that there is no difference.
In other words, the fly is dead.
(Forgive the melodrama but the analogy got away with me).
Thanks for letting me share, friends! I love your encouraging comments and have loved sharing this journey with you!