the sound of joy.

after being stuck in construction traffic for over an hour we stopped for dinner.  the girls were restless from sitting in their seats for so long.  jason and i were tired from a weekend away from home and our own bed.  we sat at the table working hard to not let our exhaustion and frustrations spill over into our parenting.  i colored pictures with abigail, and we signed with shilo while she nibbled on crackers (and spit them back out).  at the end of the meal, i held shilo on my lap, and abigail tickled her, and did her usual silly antics to try to make her laugh.  jason and i were both smiling and enjoying watching our girls interact.
but all the time we were sitting there, i could feel it.  i'm mostly used to stares at this point.  our family causes people to do double takes, likely because they are just trying to figure it out.  adoption?  two different dads?  what's going on here?  and does that little one have Down syndrome?  i get it.  we stick out a bit.  but the woman at the table behind us was flat out staring.  not occasional glances.  not the awkward look away when she notices you noticing her.  staring.  and for a moment, i wondered if abigail was being too loud.
but, she wasn't.  she was being joyful.   i wanted to share our story with her.  i wanted to tell her how we almost lost our little, twice, and that i can't help but be filled with amazement at the fact that she's still here.  i wanted to tell her that abigail had every reason in the world to act jealous of her sister.  but instead, she loves her.  and the thought crossed my mind.

this morning, i got up with little at 5:30.  seizing and vomiting.  then smiling.  then some more seizing and vomiting.  then laying in my arms and smiling up at me.  two doses of diastat.  sleeping.  smiling.  at some point, i became worried that she also hadn't peed since 6:30 last night.  and as 9:00, then 10:00 passed, and she still didn't go, i knew i had to call the doctor.
so, a trip to the doctor, a blood draw, an x-ray, and an ultrasound of kidneys and bladder.  she smiled at the ultrasound tech.  she commented on how amazing it was that a little girl that had, had such a rough day could still smile.  and the thought crossed my mind again.

joy can interrupt the longest of days.  but it doesn't generally whisper.  joy is loud.