FlyGuy and Little Lassie were a few steps ahead of me going to the beach one day. I came off the bridge between our house and the sand and saw this picture. My little Sassafras is giving daddy big attitude. The body language says it all. I think she’s even leaning in to her scream like a professional athlete or in this case a professional Diva.

(*To Beth: Yes, you caught me wearing my watch in my last post! I had to put it on because coordinating the nap and meal times for all the people at the beach house was impossible without it. I’m back in the country and sans watch again. Still struggling to read the sun dial out back. Wishing time didn’t matter so much to me)

FlyGuy flew himself home to IL for a meeting yesterday afternoon. The call came at 11:30pm. I stared at the phone, not wanting to know the dreadful news that always seems to accompany an unexpected late night call. I finally picked up and paused a few seconds before gathering the courage to say hello.

FlyGuy spoke.
“We got the letter, Rosie’s your daughter. She’s our daughter. The adoption is final.”

I whispered, “Wow.”

He whispered, “I know.”

Yes, her name is Rosie.

Six months ago today Little Lassie joined our home. We are still waiting for the letter that tells us the adoption is final. This still feels unbelievable to me. In the past, I often wondered what our child would be like. I can’t believe I’ve known her for six months already. I keep expecting motherhood to feel less thrilling, but it never does. I haven’t forgotten the pain of infertility, (it can still bring me tears if I dwell on it), but I don’t feel the pain of infertility anymore. People always told me there was light at the end of the tunnel. I didn’t believe them. They were right.

As it once was:
February 4, 2008 Little Lassie’s first day home with us. She struggles to get away from FlyGuy who scares her because he is so big and has such a deep voice.

As it is now.
FlyGuy beams as Little Lassie relaxes in Daddy’s arms.