Mommy's Eyes

This is one of those little gems that I have to get down on the blog before it disappears into the recesses of my brain forever.  Yesterday, Amber Joy was diagnosed with flu AND strep.  We both got the flu shot, but apparently, it's not covering this strain.  Bummer.  Two prescription meds, tylenol, and motrin, a weary mom, and staying inside all day was a recipe for some head-butting.  You see, Amber Joy is actually a lot like me, despite the biological truth.  She's strong-headed, assertive, and yes, even a little manipulative.  Um, like I said, a lot like me.  But this morning, when she first woke up, we had some great moments.  She was very cuddly and very sweet.  At one point, she got very close to my face, stared at me, and said, "I see Amber Joy!"  I was confused at first.  There was no mirror.  Then she said, "I see Amber Joy in Mommy's eyes!"  She had gotten close enough to actually view her own reflection in my eyes.  And just like that, we connected.  In the adoption world, there is a lot of writing and research on attachment and connecting with your child.  Many adopted kids were not adopted at birth, so there were months, even years, of no ONE person connecting with and nurturing them.  Now, it's like playing catch up.  We look for even the smallest opportunities to connect with Amber Joy.  Sometimes, it's very hard when we aren't feeling very "connecty." But today, at that precious moment, she found herself in my eyes...in me.  And I'm so glad.  I hope she continues to look for herself and knows that I take delight in her.

Later tonight, we were having a bedtime battle.  You know the drill.  You put kid to bed.  Kid fusses.  You go back in kid's room to soothe, but really you're thinking, "please just go to sleep!"  She had to go potty.  Then she had an "itchy."  Then she needed the precise three blankets, stacked on top of her in the precise way.  I rocked her and then put her to bed again.  More crying.  Then, all of a sudden I remembered a few weeks ago when we were having bedtime trials.  I simply sat in the floor and held her hand.  In two minutes, she was asleep and I quietly prayed over her, then left the room.  How soon we forget!  She needed to CONNECT.  I sat down in the rocking chair right beside her bed and put my hand through the slats.  She grabbed my finger.  In 30 seconds (not kidding), she had stopped sobbing, her nose began to open up, and I heard her breathing settle into a rhythm.  I said a prayer that sounded something like this:

God, please make her forget the bad and remember the good about her mama.
Please fill in the gaps when I can't or won't be the mama you've created me to be.
Please love her through me.
Help me to remember the connecting moments and how glorious they feel.
Love her through me.
Help me know when she just wants her mama.  And to give myself to her.
Blessings over my daughter and my husband.  
You are good.
Amen.

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