I was a month old, adopted into a new family. My mother suddenly found herself holding a living version of the doll on her lap. No months of pregnancy to prepare or bond. No time for me to learn her voice, her rhythms. No time for her to adjust to the life to come. Just “boom” — here’s a baby.
She named the doll “Little Genius” (no pressure). She named me Lucia, same as herself, and her mother, and her mother’s mother (no pressure). And we all did the best we could.