Today I spent some time (a fair bit of time actually) examining Little Bug's toes while he was napping on me. I found that his pudgy feet are shaped in a perfect little incline with little slits cut out for toes. Each of his toes are slightly smaller than the previous--very proportional. In short, my son has perfectly adorable feet.
Just shy of 10 months home, I am just now noticing.
When Little Bug first came home, I feel into a deep depression--post adoption depression--which is similar to PPD after a woman gives birth. I don't feel like explaining it today (but the research is there and it does exist), but the point of bringing it up is that for a very long time...months and months and months, I never really looked at my son. I saw him, sure, I examined him with a clinical and motherly eye, yes, but I never just took the time to revel in the little physical traits that make Little Bug up. It wasn't intentional, but it was the truth. I remember when my mother came to visit after Little Bug had been home for 5 weeks and she went on and on and on about his cute feet. I clearly remember thinking at the time that I really hadn't noticed what she was talking about, nor could I clearly recall anything specific about his feet.
It's taken me a very long time to pull my head out of the haze of depression such an irrevocable (although wonderful) change in my life had produced. Little things about motherhood that I always expected are starting to come to me. Moments of clarity.
Moments like today where I finally looked and my son and saw him...and how amazing his feet are. My son.
My son, my son, my son.
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