Levi turned one yesterday. To celebrate, he spent a couple of hours with his Nana and birth mom/"Auntie". Then when he came home, he had fresh oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.
Last night, I gave him a haircut. I don't think it was his absolute first, but it may have been the first all-over cut. (This boy came out with a lot of hair, so he's probably had a trim or two before.) Here he is today, sportin' his new 'do. It's a bit choppy in places, but for a baby haircut, he did amazingly well. I've just got a couple little pieces I need to even out later.
Today, we had errands to do in town all afternoon. Despite that, this was the happiest, most settled day that he has had since he came to be with us. It also followed the longest, most undisturbed night of rest he has had yet.
Every day, things are getting just a little easier.
We are so looking forward to what the next year brings. Love you so much already, little man!
For some people, the Christmas season is their most difficult grieving season of the year.
Not me. With the passing of Noah's birthday on February 26, I have been descending pell-mell down the slope of anniversaries that bring up bittersweet memories of Levi.
Apparently, getting puppies is how I deal.
How we celebrated Levi's birthday, and the saga of the passing of the Caravan.
In celebration of Levi's adoption day...
I know that sunflowers think their job is to propagate their species by creating seeds. But today? It was to teach me that even when we've been hammered by life, and everything seems wretched, and we are broken all over the ground, we can still be beautiful.
"It's your road, and yours alone. Others may walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you." - Rumi
"Grief is in two parts. The first is loss. The second is the remaking of life." - Anne Roiphe
Every day is another step forward. Every day, grief morphs and whirls and changes into a different shape, like dancing aurora borealis. And lately, I have been surprised by joy.
Last Saturday, Levi turned four. It could have been an awful, hard, day of mourning. But it wasn't. It was a day of joy, and remembering, and thinking about our little man. Together.
In a way, every day, every moment sine June 3, 2015 has been a "first" in this first year since I went from being merely a parent of four boys or an adoptive parent to a bereaved parent. Every day, there are things that trigger my tears. Some of them are quite small and seemingly insignificant--but even something that might seem small to others can leave my heart weighed down by stones too heavy to lift for most of the day.