Contemplating Her Navel

Sarah hasn't been her usual jovial self this weekend.  Friday night when she was taking a bath, she kept touching her belly button and signing that it hurt.  I thought maybe she was concerned that it wasn't supposed to be there, so I pulled out my shirt and showed her mine to comfort her.  She recoiled with a disgusted, frightened look and signed "hurt" again.  I told her it was okay, that it didn't hurt; it was supposed to be that way.  She continued to look concerned and slid herself away from me, to the far side of the tub.  I managed to distract her with her bath toys, but when I was putting her pajamas on, she again pointed to her navel and signed "hurt." 

She spent most of yesterday morning playing with Dad and was fine, but by lunch she was out of sorts again.  She wasn't happy with anything I gave her and barely made eye contact with me.  She then had a drawn-out crying spell before her nap and refused her bottle.  When I went to get her up, instead of greeting me cheerfully and showing me her stuffed animals, as usual, she lay in the corner of her crib and ignored me.  She shunned me most of the afternoon, as well.  She was more like herself today, but in the bath tonight, she again kept poking her belly button and looking worried.

This afternoon, I was reading about writing a lifebook.  A lifebook tells an adopted child's story, from birth through becoming part of her adoptive family.  It helps her understand and embrace her life's journey.  For the section on the child's birth, the website suggested using a photo of a belly button to convey to a toddler that she was carried by, and connected to, her birthmother, just as all children are, before coming to her adoptive mom. 

Now, I'm the first to admit that I tend to over-analyze and read into things, but don't you think it's an interesting coincidence that Sarah has been concerned about her belly button and ambivalent toward me?  I know she doesn't know the significance of her navel, but maybe on some subconscious level she is holding
any grief and confusion she has about what's happened to her in the hole in her tummy.  I can only hope that it's small enough to fit there.