People often tell me my kids looks like me. Or they’ll tell me how they look like Greg. Seems normal, right? Except both our kids are adopted. I’ve never struggled with not sharing my DNA with my kids. I’m certain it’s no coincidence God gave us two kids who fit perfectly in our family.
I see both of their birth moms in their eyes. And I’m thankful for that sweet reminder of these women who gave us the most precious gifts possible.
Yet, I see myself in them, especially my daughter Cate. She is into doing things they way they were done the time before, doing today what we did yesterday, telling one story after another, and being independent and stubborn. Just like me. She may not have my DNA, but she’s been watching me for three years, two months and nine days. She may have brown eyes and the genes to be much taller than her average-height momma, but her actions and words look a lot like me.
Greg and I were talking last night about how even though we didn’t physically create them, we are creating them — with our expectations, our beliefs, our actions and our love. And, really, that’s so much more important than deciding whose nose and lips they have.
[Want to read more about their adoptions? You can. Here. And here. And more here. Still more here. Oh, what the heck, you can read every blog post labeled “adoption.”]