This morning Emily was enraged. She was mad. Instead of those soft little sobs of ma-ma I heard screams of total rage. She was furious.
I'm glad. Getting mad is part of grieving the losses she has experienced.
Jamison didn't understand. He couldn't understand why she isn't happy to be adopted. Why she isn't glad to be here like he is? Why isn't she happy to have a family?
I tried to explain that she will be. She needs time to adjust to all the changes in her little life. Think about if mom and dad died and you went to live with an Amish family. How would you like not understanding the language, wearing different clothes, not having electricity, riding in a buggy instead of a car and all kinds of changes?
He got it.
So Emily velcroed herself to my shoulder (which is great!) and screamed her little head off. Eventually her rage turned to grief and she cried a little. Then the storm was over (for now), the sun came out, and she played with her dolly and cow and smiled.
Now she's eating all the puffs in the canister in between bites of Kaitlyn's green beans (yes, at 6:30 in the morning), yelling to keep the attention of her siblings, and toddling her way around the coffee table.
I'll enjoy some sunshine for now.