did she die?

A couple years ago, I decided not to worry about "adoption issues".  Not that I don't think "adoption issues" are real. I just decided to stop looking for them.

You see, I was worried because Brett seemed to have no interest in his adoption story. With all the books, blogs, movies, and friends that express a different reality, I thought there must be something wrong! But with any kid, and with Brett in particular, we have enough to worry about just dealing with the actual problems that are presenting themselves boldly.  I'm choosing to take this at face value.  To this point in his six-and-a-half years, he just really doesn't care that he was adopted.

A great thing about having two kids who were adopted is you know what to expect with the second one you get to have two totally different experiences.  Right on cue, the four and five year olds are curious about babies and where they came from and how in the world they all made it into this family.  Lydia, who has not quite mastered empathy, and where sibling rivalry is at an all-time high, likes to talk about how she grew in my tummy.  (This is where we play up how Brett was our first baby and Reggie is the only one who's flown in an airplane.)

Big questions never happen when I'm prepared with a thoughtful answer.  They happen when I'm drying Reggie off from the shower.

"Did Ms. April die?" 

I choke.

"No." 

He seems satisfied at the moment, but I know he didn't get the answer to his real question. The one his four-year-old brain can't put into words.

And then a few days later after I've tucked him in, he pulls me back toward him and asks," Mom, can we go see Ms. April tomorrow?"

"No, Honey, not tomorrow."

And this week as we are cleaning up our old house, the one all my babies came home to, "Did we move here after we lived in Georgia?" 

"No, we never lived in Georgia..."

Reggie, I pray you know this: it's okay to feel the way you do and to wonder all the things you wonder. We may not get to meet Ms April tomorrow, but there's plenty of room in our hearts for her.  And I'm curious about her, too!  I don't have a lot of answers, but one thing I know for sure-you were not rejected, you were loved.  You are loved.

(worm)

I'm still choosing not to worry.  I'm just taking it one question at a time and hoping I don't screw it up. (That's what normal parenting is, right?)