A, E, and I just returned from our 4th trip to Disneyland as a family. Each trip that we take our little princess on always receives skepticism from critics, who make sure that A&I know that she will surely never remember “that” trip. Our response often surprises them when we simply answer, “we know, but we will”.
And it’s true. I remember each and every one of our 4 trips, well enough to likely write a book about each of them (and certainly enough to write a book about how NOT to travel with an infant/toddler).
This trip was no different. In true E fashion, she amazed me even more than she normally does. There is something about her, a quality that can’t be replicated- the sparkle in her eye, the charm in her smile, the charisma that just exudes from her joyful laugh that leaves me speechless (often because I’m realizing how much trouble her daddy and I will truly be in as she grows older).
On the last full day of our trip, E gave us an extra special treat by taking a long late afternoon nap, which meant she was able to stay up later than normal. This meant that Mommy, Daddy, and E were able to catch the “early” show (it started at 9:00pm, how on earth is that EARLY people?!) of World of Color in Disney’s California Adventure.
E LOVED it.
While the show in itself is quite spectacular, it only briefly held my attention. Watching my daughters reaction to the show my friends, left me captivated and speechless.
I sat there, watching as E’s eyes filled with wonder and amazement at the lights, colors, and water lighting up and dancing before her. Even as I try to write out how amazing it was, I can’t even put it into words. It literally brought me to tears and took my breath away. Even now, I have chills remembering my daughters reaction to the show. So the next day, when it came up in conversation with a stranger that my daughter was adopted*, I was taken aback when the stranger leaned over to me, and whispered, “well, she’s certainly one lucky little girl”. This isn’t the first time someone’s said this to A or myself, so you’d think I’d be used to hearing it. But I’m not.
I’m sure to someone looking at our situation at that moment from the outside in, it could seem that she was the lucky one. We were in our hotel, The Grand Californian, on our way into Disneyland. E was happy and talking, holding her plethora of new souvenirs she refused to let go of. To someone only looking at the surface, it may appear that she was one lucky little girl. But to me, someone entrenched in our life, I just don’t see it, and it baffles me every time someone says that SHE is the lucky one.
There are no shortages of families looking to adopt caucasian baby girls at birth. Even without using an agency, Sam* had three families to pick from when we met her. And she picked us.
She picked us.
Through some amazing miracle and grand divine intervention, the Lord brought E to us. He picked me to be her mama, and A to be her daddy. He picked us.
He picked us.
I am the lucky one. I get to snuggle this sweet baby girl every morning, and every evening. I get to watch her blossom into a bright, beautiful, intelligent young lady daily. I get to soothe her when she cries out “Mama”. I get to love her with my whole heart, irrevocably and with total abandonment.
I am the lucky one.