Your Child's Play Can Unlock the Mystery of Their Adoption

I was sewing last night, something I haven't done in over a year, but something I love to do.  The girls were in a particularly good mood, especially considering it was late in the day on a Sunday.  I could hear them in the playroom just outside the door to my sewing room, laughing and playing so sweetly.

A few minutes later, Shannay came into the room with me and asked if she could play "babies" in the room with me, and I said she could.

She walked into the room, pillow in one hand, blanket in the other, with a tiny black baby doll stuffed under her shirt.  Funny thing about this particular dolly is that she almost never plays with it, preferring Rapunzel or Cinderella or some other Disney princess in its place.

I continued to sort my fabric pieces into light and dark shades, watching out of the corner of my eye, not wanting to disrupt her imaginative play, and REALLY curious about what was going to happen with that baby in her shirt (especially considering our recent discussion about babies.)

She said to me, "I'm gonna have a baby out of the special place in my tummy and then I'm gonna gib it to you. I gonna be sad, but it's okay cause you're good wit babies. And you'll lub it."

She proceeded to lay the baby gently on the pillow, covered it with the blanket, then softly spoke to me, turned off the lights and turned to leave the room.

I stood there frozen in that moment, staring at her, tears welling up in my eyes, afraid to speak for fear my voice would give way to the emotion in my heart.

She's five.  Five little years old.  And yet, somewhere deep inside her little heart and mind, she gets it, or she's trying to.  I'm not wise to the way her little mind is trying to sort this all out, but I'm smart enough to know, if you pay attention to children, they will tell you what they are thinking.

Truthfully, I wasn't sure how to engage her, and maybe I've missed an incredible moment to answer her questions.

But I love that she gave me a glimpse into her sweet little heart.

As I stood there, captivated by her monologue, her twin sister walked into the room with a baby doll tucked up in her shirt as well.  She reached up under her shirt, yanked the doll out by the heels, plopped it down, unceremoniously, next to the other one and said, "It's twins." And walked out of the room with a mischievous giggle.

All the emotion of the moment was released in laughter, deep, joy-filled laughter.  

Some days this whole adoption world is crazy hard.  But on other days, I can't picture my life any other way.