Six months ago today, Phoebe became our daughter. Just the night before, she arrived in our arms. Here is Phoebe, during our first minutes together.
That was a moment of such great joy for me, but you see Phoebe-- so much uncertainty. She woke up that morning with the only family she could remember, the foster family who had cared for her for just over a year. Many hours later, after a three hour bus trip with a bunch of babies and nannies she didn't know, she was placed in our arms. I remember the clicking noise she kept making in the back of her throat. I know Phoebe, and she certainly cries when she is scared, angry, or overwhelmed. She didn't cry that day. Not once. I think she must have been far beyond scared. Too scared to cry.
And this is Phoebe now:
This child has brought me so much joy. My favorite moment of the day is when I open the back door and hear the squealing of "Mama!!" with the pattering of feet, and then get bowled over by my two toddlers as they collapse in my arms with their giggles. When I watch her doing her naked butt-shaking dance, when she insists "Read it!" for the fifth time, when she curls up in my lap with her thumb in her mouth, when she outs her naughty trick with a proud shout of "I did it!"-- I just love her to pieces. Of all the children in the world, how did I get so lucky to have this one as my daughter?
On this Thanksgiving, I am so incredibly grateful that somehow in this big world, Phoebe came into our lives.