From the moment Squeaker arrived, I knew he looked just like his mom. His squishy little nose, full cheeks and loose curls are her to a 'T'. But we don't have any pictures of her in babyhood. She came to us at age four, and although Squeaker is only two, he is the same size (or possibly somewhat bigger) that she was then.
A couple of weeks ago Curlygirl spent a lot of time looking through old photo albums (you remember those, right? Made out of paper and full of printed pictures, always available in one physical location to look at?). And suddenly, it clicked.
She showed a picture to the Squeakmeister. "Who is this? Is this you?" "Ah yes!"
If I didn't know better, I wouldn't be able to argue with him. Except for the tan, they are nearly identical. It's even more noticeable when she is laughing.
Adoption is a wonderful way to grow a family. But for the adoptee, there are always questions and mysteries. Why? What happened? Was it me? What was the matter with them?? And: Who do I look like?
Certainly Curlygirl doesn't look like us. Giving birth gave her the first biological relative she can remember meeting, and the first relative who looks like her. It's a little backwards, but it's a connection that the rest of us simply take as granted every day.
She's always, more than anything else, wanted to be a mom. She had a doll that she carried everywhere for more than a year, including back and forth to daycare, honing her budding mom-skills. And even then, when she was only eight, I wondered if she was searching for that missing connection somehow. I don't know. I don't think she knows.
All I know is that she is an awesome, awesome mom. Having Squeaker completed something in her, and she is truly content.