Hugs

My sweet boy. Something small, barely discernible, has changed in the last week. Seth is home. Seth has a mama and a papa. And I think he knows it.

Sweet boy has never been adverse to our loving on him – even from the git-go, he would relax into me and let me hold him, rock him, hug him. I think this is a huge credit to the orphanage and ICC and those who cared for him the first 18 months of his life. However, he felt more like a newborn – he accepted it, but didn’t reciprocate in any way. If I asked for a kiss, he’d pucker up and give me one, but certainly not without my asking.

This week, though, he gave me a hug. About a hundred. He gave me kisses. Maybe 10. He comes up, pulls on my shorts and when I pick him up he puts his little arms around me and squeezes about ten times. Then he’s done and off on his way.

How can this child, who has only been mine for two months, feel so apart of us? Hasn’t he always been here? Oh I love him so.


  
      
  

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