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I spent a good portion of the day sorting through the kids' old clothing today. I have had all these bins packed full of all the clothing that they have grown out of. I've kept almost everything. But with piles of other sizes of clothing growing in the kids closets, I decided it was time to pick out my absolute favorites and get rid of the rest.
I started with the things Matthias has grown out of. We have ZERO plans of having another baby in this house and so I widdled things down to my "can't part withs". It felt good. Time to attack the girls' things.
I started with the 0 to 3 month bin and just loved looking at all the sweet little, girly things. I was down in the basement with all the kids and loved showing the girls my favorite little dresses and home from the hospital outfits that they had worn.
I probably still held on to too much, but I soon found myself with only one small bin when I had started with one large bin and two small ones. I was on a role...until the 5th bin.
18 to 24 months.
My mind started spinning.
If we are able to adopt...
I mean, who knows how young...
She could be small...
I stopped dead in my tracks. I simply couldn't do it anymore. I went up to Lucy's room and looked at the little dress hanging in the closet. And I cried. So much hope. So much longing. All hanging on that hanger. A sweet little dress. Something tangible. A symbol of something that is anything but tangible.