When Miles had been home for about 9 months he came up to me (when we'd been going through an especially rough patch) and put his hand on my face and said, "You a good boy, mommy. You special here." He was telling me what had been told to him dozens and dozens of times. That was the first time that we could actually see that all those truths that we had been telling him about himself were starting to ring true enough to him that he could not only see them in himself, but could pick them out in others as well.
He was beginning to leave behind those feelings of being scared, abandoned and unworthy and filling up with the notion that he was precious. Over time, that just got stronger and stronger and those truths became more of the norm instead of the exception. Some of the moments when we see it click are so profound that it really is like a light bulb goes off.
Yesterday, I had a terrible allergy attack and had to take a Benadryl in the middle of the day. That meant that Miles and I spent a lot of time on the couch hanging out. He sometimes loves it when Mommy doesn't feel good because it means that I am still and present (something that I hate to say doesn't happen as often as I would like). When you have many hours on the couch to pass, sometimes you have to resort to creative ways to fill the time. We passed the afternoon by making videos. There were videos about Miles talking about what he's doing at school and videos where he talks about playing with his friends and videos of him singing every song he knows off the radio.
As we were goofing off making videos, I asked him "What does adoption mean?" I figured that he'd spout of one of the millions of rote phrases we say around here- "It means we are a family forever" "It means that there are lots of ways to make a family" etc. But what he said, showed me how deeply those truths that we fill him with about his worth and his value and how precious he is to us have finally taken permanent residence in his heart. He said, "It means mommy taked me for Congo and brought me home for her sweet boy. And I'm a good boy."
Yes, Miles. You are. (97% of the time!) You really are! And I'm so glad that you believe it! I know that I've probably said it before, but there are very few things in my life that are more rewarding than watching this child heal and become whole. It's like witnessing a new miracle each and every day. Worth every. single. minute.
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