Twice a day for the past six months we have given Turo a bottle. Before nap and before bed, we slow-down, take him into our arms and rock. I love these twenty minutes. I love this time to just hold my little boy. During the day, he’s on the go and will only pause long enough for a quick hug or kiss. But with the bottle, he’ll snuggle. I love the way he feels in my lap, his head resting on my chest, his hair tickling the bottom of my chin, the smell of him in my nose. I love listening to the sound he makes as he drinks and the small exhalations in between sips. I love how he’ll occasionally fall asleep in my arms when he’s finished. An extra bonus of coziness.
In these quiet moments, I wonder about his first mother and what she felt the first time she held him. Did she see her husband in her son’s eyes? Did she whisper his name to him while he was in her arms? Sometimes I imagine Turo as a teenager and hope that he still retains a sense of these tender moments. That when he’s questioning his adoption, his family and the meaning of it all, that he will know how deeply he is loved. And there are times, when I just make lists in my head or doze along with him.
Sunday was our last naptime bottle. For the past couple of weeks, Turo hasn’t wanted to sit in my lap after lunch. He’d drink his bottle in his own rocking chair. This broke my heart a bit, but I know it’s a positive sign that he’s growing up. So, after several days of talking about it, yesterday was it. We read and when he asked for his bottle, I reminded him that Sunday’s had been his last. Then we went upstairs and he was fine.
The bedtime bottle, however, will just have to wait a little longer before retiring.
In these quiet moments, I wonder about his first mother and what she felt the first time she held him. Did she see her husband in her son’s eyes? Did she whisper his name to him while he was in her arms? Sometimes I imagine Turo as a teenager and hope that he still retains a sense of these tender moments. That when he’s questioning his adoption, his family and the meaning of it all, that he will know how deeply he is loved. And there are times, when I just make lists in my head or doze along with him.
Sunday was our last naptime bottle. For the past couple of weeks, Turo hasn’t wanted to sit in my lap after lunch. He’d drink his bottle in his own rocking chair. This broke my heart a bit, but I know it’s a positive sign that he’s growing up. So, after several days of talking about it, yesterday was it. We read and when he asked for his bottle, I reminded him that Sunday’s had been his last. Then we went upstairs and he was fine.
The bedtime bottle, however, will just have to wait a little longer before retiring.
Ethiopia, May 2009
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