Monday, August 19, 2013

My child at six months

Six months ago today, this little girl was placed in my arms for evah.


And it was a little horrifying. For both of us.

One year ago next month, we received referral photos of a tiny little girl who had no family. She was tiny and her face was covered in molluskum contagiosum. Her big brown eyes looked sad in all the photos we got of her. 





We were told that she was shy, bashful girl, scared of new situations, who had trouble warming up to strangers, and who had to almost be forced to eat.



Recently I was at the social security office (for the third time) and I looked at the photo of Bethie on her immigration papers.



That is not my child. I don't even know that child.


This is my child.



My child is silly and giggly and bright. And cuddly and sweet. And sneaky.



 My child will also throw a tantrum when she doesn't get her way.



She is obsessed with shoes and jewelry and has definite opinions about her wardrobe.


She shakes her booty and makes tooting noises. My child's swim teacher said was the quickest learning two-year-old she'd ever seen. She pulls up a stool to get the chips and salsa down from the counter.


 

My child insisted on having her ears pierced when she saw her sister do it and is now quick to show any stranger her new earrings or painted fingernails.
 



My child sneaks on her mommy's iPhone whenever she can. She loves to tattle on her siblings. My child happily strolls into the church nursery each Sunday without looking back.



My child knows that if she nestles her head just so into her mommy's shoulder will always get an extended snuggle.




This 



is my child.



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