Tonight before reading bedtime books Kyle was talking on and on about when he was “a little baby.” This is a theme lately for K & O — I assume it is some sort of developmental stage; they are very consumed with thinking about what they were like as babies and how much they’ve grown. They know that they were adopted by us when they were “eight months old!” and often talk about what they were like at that age, etc. I said, “Ky Ky, do you want to see a picture of you when you were eight months old?!” “Yes!” he said (of course he’s seen these pictures a million times but K & O never grow bored of them). We looked at a couple of the framed photos in his room — a picture of our family when we were coming home from Haiti, and a picture of K & O when they were little babies in the orphanage. He was very interested in it all, so I brought out a little album that we keep in Kyle’s room- an album of photos from when the boys were in the orphanage. As we were looking at the album (for the millionth time this year, but again, the boys never grow bored of it), Owen came and joined us too. The boys are recently very interested in the photos of the nannies at the orphanage, and want to know all about how the nannies took care of them “while our family waited and waited and waited for the adoption to be done.” K & O don’t like to call them “Nannies” because for them, their “Nanny” is Alex. So, we call them “Orphanage Nannies.” We have several photos of different Orphanage Nannies feeding the boys bottles and holding the boys. K & O were deeply fascinated by these particular photos tonight. Then Kyle, who has never previously requested any specific information about his adoption or pre-adoption experience (neither K nor O ever has) asked very pointedly to “see a picture when I was in the lady’s belly” (to see a photo of when he was in his birthmother’s belly). I instantly felt heart broken that I didn’t have such a photo. I never would have expected I’d feel this way, but I did. I just felt so badly that I could not fulfill this one (and first) very simple request from my son. It is not too much for him to ask. He simply wants to see a photo of his birthmother when she was pregnant with him. I told him that I was very sorry, but that I didn’t have a photo of that. It felt like a black hole. I never would have thought I’d feel this strongly about such a little thing, but I did. It just feels like there are these pieces missing that create a void that I will never be able to fill. I said, “Do you want to know what that lady is called? It is your birthmother. Not your mother, but your birthmother.” His eyes glazed over. This was not the information he asked for. It couldn’t suffice. And I knew it. Why try to make up for it? The moment was lost. I couldn’t give him what he wanted (needed?). I kissed him on the cheek and told him again how very sorry I am that I don’t have a photo of when he was in his birthmother’s belly.