I am having trouble believing that it has almost been a year since my Rooster entered into this world. We have her pudgy newborn photo hanging on the wall underneath her sisters, and I stare at the picture of the infant that reminds me of a wrinkle dog. Her soulful eyes still stare into me, like they stared into that camera when she was just 24 hours old. The way they searched my heart while she was still inside of me.
Strangers on the street have stopped me before, to ask me about this babies eyes. They are nothing like I expected, lighter that I ever imagined. I have come to expect the ginger high lights, but somehow in my mind my dark eyes still power through to my girls.This idea is so firm in my head that I am sometimes still suprised when I look into her face, tipped up at me, calling “mama.” The Rooster’s eyes are somewhere between brown and hazel, they have the uncanny ability to reflect the space around her.
She has the uncanny ability to reflect the space around her. The emotions, the vibe of the room. This weekend we were at a mostly adults party, and she used every moment the Peanut was distracting me to crawl into the middle of the adults standing around and suprise them by appearing in the middle of the conversation circle at their feet. She would clap her hands and then wave bye-bye, looking back every so often to make sure she was still being noticed. It was delightful; she is delightful.
In the Rooster, I see my best self looking back at me. She believes in my goodness, she sees it right there! She is mischeivous in a way that harms no one, that brings a smile to your face. She loves nothing more than crawling from out behind her sister and jumping on her. Let the Wild Rumpus Begin! It is because of the Rooster we have instituted the rule :no wrestling in the bathtub.” She still thinks it would be fun….even if it isn’t allowed. She knows which buttons make the computer screen jump, and cannot understand why her father and I wouldn’t think that is as hilarious as she does…
She is my greatest reminder, that God’s plans are bigger and kinder than mine. I cannot believe I would have planned things any differently, even when it is hard. I part of me is sad, that it seems like it will be a long time until I get to hold another baby that is my own. I wonder if the adoption I dream of will be of an infant, if I will have a chance to rock those babies of mine. But I know that this has made me treasure this babyhood, even as she charges out of it.
Only one more year of this first year. Rooster, let’s make it a good one.