Not so upbeat today

This may ramble on, and on, and on...and it may not make sense to anyone but me. But I need to talk and a computer screen is the only thing that doesn't judge and doesn't talk back, it just absorbs what I'm saying and temporarily takes a weight off my shoulders.

I knew this morning that it was going to be one of *those* days. Well, let me rewind to last night. He (my daughter's father) called for some reason that is lost to me at this point. I can't even remember the point of him calling, I just remember what it spiraled into. He asked me if I had gotten any recent pictures of our daughter, and I told him that I haven't for a couple of weeks and he told me to let him know when I did. Then, me being me, I went and said something about how we shouldn't be spending a lot of time together, or any at all, for that matter, because I'm over the moon happy when I'm with him, but then as soon as he leaves or I leave, I'm depressed even more than I was before I saw him. He kept telling me it'll take time....that I just need to give it time. I tried to explain the way I feel to him in terms that he would understand, by bringing up the first girl he was in a relationship with, who he told me a long time ago that he still cares about on some level, and I told him that he is that person for me. He was my first real relationship, even if it was basically a half-assed relationship, and that it will take me more than a few weeks or months to get over someone I've spent the last 3+ years of my life with. I told him that I'll never accept some of the things he's done, even if I'm 30 and married and he and I see each other, and I'm over him and have no feelings for him, I still won't have accepted some of it. I also told him that I honestly (and I was and am being honest) don't feel 'in love' with him anymore, and don't even feel as though I want to be with him anymore. He will always have a piece of my heart, and I know he would whether or not my little girl had been brought into the picture. I am willing to be civil and be friends, but he and I have never worked as just friends...and he knows what he needs to do in order for us to even get back to being friends, so it's in his hands. But right now, I need time to myself. Who knows how much time I need to myself, it could be weeks or it could be another year. I'm not giving myself a timeline. There is no timeline for this...no timeline to grieve "losing" your only child and losing her father and your best friend all in one, both at the same time. Anyways, I told him that he and I should truly only talk if we have a reason, and he told me "there doesn't need to be a reason, because there's one huge reason already, that'll always be there...our daughter! For that reason alone you and I will always be in touch." Now, I don't know why, but him saying this set off a burst of tears on my end. Maybe because a tiny fraction of the reason I gave her up was because I didn't want that attachment to him for the rest of my life? (even though I know it's still 'there') Or maybe because I interpreted from the tone of his voice that he is terrified to lose a connection with me because he knows in turn he's losing his lifeline to his daughter? I don't know. There was a lot more to the conversation that I know I'm leaving out, so you can't really follow it, I'm sure. But that's fine. It's not meant to be followed; I was part of it and I still can't wrap my head around it.
I was in a much better place a few months ago. The pain over my daughter was overwhelmingly stronger than the pain over losing him, so I didn't pay it much mind. But it's been creeping up on me. I'm so scared to completely lose him, but at the same time I know what's best for me. I know that not seeing him even for just 6 months in a row would do me a world of good, but when I think about all that time going by, it scares me. I just need to take it one day at a time, I guess. This morning, I sprayed this vanilla body spray from bath and body works because I thought, "I haven't used this in a while," and the minute I sprayed it, I knew why. The smell hit me like a thousand bricks at once, because it was the one I always used to use when I was out with him. It was one he gave me for Christmas, the first one we celebrated together, and I still have it to this day. He loved it, and so I wore it all the time. It's crazy how certain smells bring on such strong emotions. For some reason, it made me think of one night, before anything really happened between us, when I went to his house around 11 or midnight and we played grand theft auto for two hours. It was the most amazing night, and nothing even happened. Another weird thing is, when I smell blueberry muffins, I think of being in the hospital with the baby. My mom brought me a box of blueberry muffins from dunkies because she knew I wouldn't eat the hospital food. Actually, she knew I wasn't eating at all during those few days.
I shouldn't be ashamed to say this, even though I know what a d--k he can be. I miss him, a lot. I hate the thought of being with anyone else, especially romantically or intimately. I know that will change over time, and soon I won't even think of him like that at all anymore. But I have this immense fear that I'll think of him the entire time I'm with whoever the next guy I'm with is. I guess that's normal. I've never really been though a break up like this before. Never had to give someone back their clothes, movies, blankets, pillows, etc., and never had someone give me back my things like that.
But the world's still spinning. Life is going on. I was so terrified of that in the hospital. I kept thinking, I'm safe in my little miserable bubble in this hospital bed - I never want to leave. I knew that was my only time to just be upset. I knew once I left - more so, once I left without her - that the world would continue on. Everyone would go about their lives as if it never happened, and soon I would be swept into that cycle again, too. What am I gonna do, just stop working? Stop going to class? Stop living life? I feel like I'm frozen in some sort of grief, but life is going on without me. I hope it's just a phase. I'm getting tired of acting happy, and therapy is not helping one single bit. To sum it up: today I'm miserable, angry, and sad, and I just plain don't feel like sugarcoating it anymore.

First 4th of July shoes, here I come!

She said YES!

I can get and send the little sneakers to my little one! She said she is in a size three right now, but she looked over the website and said that in that brand she may actually be a size four...so she's heading to the mall and will have her try on a size three and a size four and then get back to me so I can order them :)

I had a pretty bad night last night, and it was one of those nights that, when you wake up, it all hits you all over again. So I was lying around in bed when my phone went off and said I had a new email. Ever since then, I have had an ear-to-ear grin plastered on my face and I'm pretty sure it'll stay there all day. I refuse to let little things get me down today.

And, the best part of the email..."I have a surprise for you…well I am going to tell you so I am silly to call it a surprise, I wanted to send some for your birthday but couldn’t figure out the technology myself.  I have some video of our little miss for you!"
I am truly so blessed. My little girl's mom helps me see the light through this emotional mess that I have been lately. :)

I wish...

I wish I could see my baby girl.

I wish I had realized how beautiful pregnancy is and embraced it more, rather than feeling so unsure and scared.

I wish I had been proud of my baby belly instead of trying to cover it up.

I wish I had taken more pictures of my belly.

I wish, when the ultrasound tech took a picture of my baby's hand and said "she's waving!" and I requested a copy of that photo, saying her father and grandparents would love to see it, and she told me "we only give out ones where you can really see the face" - that I had pushed it. It was only kept in my file, why couldn't I have it?

I wish I had taken a video of her heartbeat, or her dancing on the screen at my ultrasounds.

I wish I took a picture of the 3 of us - my daughter, her father, and myself - as a "family"...just one.

I wish I cherished the moments when she kicked inside of me more than I did. I loved the feeling, but each time it just brought sadness and all I could think of was how empty I would feel after I gave birth.

I wish I spoke my mind more when I was pregnant.

I wish I had cared less about her father's feelings and more about my own.

I wish I found out I was pregnant a lot sooner than I did.

I wish I knew how this would feel afterwards.

I wish I could see into the future and know that I will be okay.

I wish I could know for sure that my daughter would want me to be in her life again someday.

I wish the same thing I wished the whole time I was pregnant: I wish my little girl could have told me what she
wanted. No hard feelings. I just wished, above anything else, that she could tell me "keep me," or "give me to
them, please." Then I would have no doubts, or questions.

I wish I could go back in time to the day she was born. Not necessarily to change anything, but just to know I had a full two days with her ahead of me.

I wish I hadn't gotten the epidural. I remember the feeling of her actually being born; it hurt, then hurt some more (not the contractions, just my lower half in general) and then I felt a gush and it was like her arms and
legs just slithered out.  ...Definitely a strange feeling, but a one-of-a-kind feeling, too. I remember it as clear as if it were yesterday; I just wish I could recall the feeling of the contractions. Which, I can't, because I was numbed.

I wish I hadn't hid it from my friends after I found out. I didn't want any influence for or against adoption, but
now it seems a lot of people still don't know.

I wish that didn't make me feel as if I was hiding her, or ashamed of her. It couldn't be any more the opposite.

I wish I didn't know so many people having babies right now.

I wish I could hold her.

I wish I didn't go to sleep crying every night with her little hospital hat clutched as close to me as can be.

I wish I didn't wake up every day with the nonsensical false hope that maybe I'll see her that day. Of course I
won't.

I wish I was more at peace with this.

I wish I didn't miss her father, still.

I wish I wasn't on autopilot all the time, just trying to get through everything.

I wish I didn't feel physically like a part of me is missing.

I wish people could understand that yes, I did choose this, but it still hurts in a way nothing ever can or will,
ever again.

I wish people didn't just look at me like "why didn't you keep her then?"

I wish people understood that the minute you are pregnant, you are no longer number one. That's why I did what I did. My little girls wants and needs took an extreme precedence over my own from day one.

I wish I could kiss her soft little cheeks one more time.

I wish I could see a video of her first steps, whenever she takes them.

I wish, above everything else, that my little girl has an amazing life and always knows that she has been so blessed by her parents (adoptive) and that she never thinks that I did not want her. I didn't plan her, but that does not automatically mean I didn't want her.

The cutest shoes on the planet!

Sometimes, looking at baby clothes and/or little girl's clothes in the stores is virtually impossible for me. I was on Old Navy the other day, wondering why oh why was the toddler section in such close proximity to the women's clothes? Everywhere I turned, I bumped into some form of pink, frilly, size: tiny clothing. Sometimes my heart swells up with pride, thinking of my little girl and how she must look so cute in these clothes. Other times, my heart cracks in half (or most likely quarters, at this point) and I wish I had a reason to buy each and every single outfit. Especially the shoes. Oh my gosh, the shoes...like little miniature versions of the very same ones I wear. And, since it's now summer, the pink jellies are out. I used to be obsessed with my jellies and I distinctly remember having a pair in pink, clear, green, and purple.

Anyways, every now and then I look at the baby shoes online. Don't ask why, I don't know. Sometimes I think I want to get a pair, just to keep in her memory box as her 'first' pair of shoes from me. My mother still has my first baby shoes hanging over her mirror in her room. Of course she's now too old for a teeny pair like that, I'm guessing she's now an infant size 5, or maybe even bigger.

I found these:

and had this overwhelming urge to buy them. So... I emailed C and asked her if she would mind if I got them for her, just "because." I told her that I know we talked about giving gifts at Christmas and her birthdays and other holidays and such, but I wanted to make an exception for her very first summer. I'm waiting on a response - I only emailed her about a half hour ago - but I'm praying she says yes. I don't want to come off controlling or anything, like "these are the shoes I want my daughter to wear!" because I in no way feel that way. I just fell in love with their adorable-ness :)
Her first 4th of July is almost next week! Can that be a gift-giving holiday? ;)

Hopefully a turning point..

A good thing just happened. Actually, it was a bad thing, but the end result is good! Let me rewind back to this past Monday morning. I called her father (I'm trying not to use his name on here, although anyone who knows me in real life knows who he is anyways) and told him that I had finally printed out an email for him from our daughter's parents, and that I couldn't drive quite yet because of my ankle and foot, but as soon as I could, which would likely be this weekend, I'd call him and let him know. To which he responded: "okay, don't rush for me, but that'd be cool whenever you can start driving again." Now, fast forward to last night. I called him around 5:30 to tell him that I could meet up with him somewhere on Sunday. He didn't answer, and I didn't leave a message, figuring he'd see the missed call from me and call back when he could. Now, here is where I get annoyed. I know he goes into work late, around 11 or midnight. I stayed up; no call. This morning, on impulse, I guess...I called again. He answered and asked me what's up. Ever so nonchalantly, might I add. I said, "I called you yesterday.." and he replies with "I know." So in my head, I started fuming but I acted calm because the last thing I need right now is an argument from him. So I asked him, "why didn't you call me back?" and he says...."you didn't leave a message." WHAT? Are you the President? I need to leave a message in order for you to pencil in a callback to me? Sorry, that's not how it works. You don't hold the power anymore. I went on to ask him, "since when do I need to leave a message? Because last time I checked, you hated voicemails and told me that if they were longer than 10 seconds, you deemed the rest of the message 'unimportant' and deleted it before it was finished!" Apparently he had rebuttal to that, so he says "whats the matter?" Caption Oblivious. I went on to tell him (calmly, might I add) that obviously I called for a reason and reminded him that he and I agreed only to talk about the baby, therefore it must have been about the baby. Who woulda thought? I also kindly reminded him (but at this point, I wasn't being so kind) that I told him I'd be calling at the end of the week to let him know when I could give it to him. Then: silence. That's what he does when he's got nothing. He could have said, "okay, I'll meet you ________ (insert day and time here)." But no - silence. So I got annoyed. I asked him if Sunday worked, he said yes. I asked him for a time. He then said he just remembered Sunday won't work for him. I knew I was going to be out towards where he lives on Sunday late afternoon so I said "you can't meet me for one minute in your general area towards the end of the day?" and he said something about being busy in the morning, and asked if I wanted to meet up on Monday. I told him that I, too, am busy in the morning but I can meet him later. He then tells me he has plans in the morning and won't be free til later, so he can't. What part of end of the day did he not hear out of my mouth? So I said, "Why don't I just mail it to you!?" and he asks again, "whats the matter?" UGH.

I know to everyone else, this is no big deal, probably nothing to get all upset over. But this is an adult man we are talking about. I asked direct, to the point questions and he still couldn't answer. I am trying to do him the favor here. He wanted the email. I didn't ask if he wanted it; he asked me if he could read it. Then there's the issue of not calling back because I didn't leave a message. Are you kidding me? When you know the only reason I would call is about our daughter, and when you were expecting my call at the end of the week....I need to leave you a message telling you why I'm calling? GFY. seriously. I don't know why I bother. I want him to want to be involved with her in whatever way we can be, so for him to want to be also, does make me happy. But having to deal with this bs on a montly basis? This behavior of his played a part in the decision I made for my daughter. I thought he may have changed, may have matured just a little, but I guess not.

The point is, I just had to come here and write all of this out. I had to capture the feeling I have right now. I just feel disgusted with him. I can and will be civil to him, only to talk about her. But we are not "friends" anymore. We don't call each other to talk. There is a car show on Sunday that I intend to go to by myself; something that he and I did together for four years every time there was a local one. I don't even want to ask him, and surely he must know about it, and didn't mention it to me. That's truly fine. When I hung up the phone with him a few minutes ago something hit me - I'm not in love with him anymore. Nope. Not even a little bit. I have love for him, that won't just 'go away.' He was my first love, the father of my first-born, and my first for so many other things. Almost every single other thing. But any romantic feelings I had for him (which, I admit, I've struggled with that for a while now. It's hard knowing you should strongly dislike a person, but still feeling the flutters and butterflies when you see them) have vanished after that phone call. It was just the final straw on top of a gigantic pile of straws that have accumulated over the years due anything and everything ranging from small petty arguments to full blown screaming matches. The lies, the selfishness, everything, was just piling up. This is a very good thing for me. I hope it lasts. I hope its not just a reaction I'm having to being angry with him.

There was a me before him, and there will be a much, much better me after him. He doesn't even realize that that 9 minute conversation just changed so much for me, for the better. I will get better. The petty part of me wants to get better to show him I don't need him, but the logical side of me just wants to get better for my little girl.

Good, better, best

Today was a better day. Not a great day, but better. I feel like I finally have some things to look forward to - some small things, like going to see Transformers because it comes out tomorrow, and then a bigger thing, which is filling out financial aid forms for whatever school I decide to go to in the winter to pursue my bachelor's degree. It took me long enough! I deeply regret taking those two years off after highschool, but at least I'm back at it again. It's hard now, but I'm sure it'd be even harder if I was in my 40's or older. I want to get it out of the way. I beat myself up over it when I found out I was pregnant - I would think things like, "if I had gone straight to college, I'd have graduated this summer (2010) and I'd at least have a degree and a better shot at a good career," or "if I were done with school that would be one less thing I'd need a babysitter for" etc. You get the idea. As if my education was the only thing standing in my way of giving my daughter the best future possible. I've come to realize that I would pick one thing and focus on it. I'd focus on my relationship with her father, and how it was going nowhere, then I'd think "if we were more stable in our relationship, we could raise her." Then I'd think about how I had a measly part-time job and no real income, and I'd think, "if I had more money, I could raise her." Of course I thought about how I still lived with my parents and thought "if we had our own apartment, she could have her own bedroom" yada, yada, yada. Then there was the fact that he already had a 4 1/2 year old, with someone else. Would my daughter always be second to his first daughter? Would she ask why daddy spends more time with her big sister than he does with her? I didn't know, and I wouldn't risk it. Yes, he told me he would "obviously show her no less love than the daughter he already has" and be involved in her life as much as physically possible even if we were not together as a couple, but he told me a lot of things during our relationship that his actions strongly contrasted.

Those things, when mixed with a dozen or so others and all rolled into one, paint a pretty awful picture together. They painted a rough road for me and therefore an even rougher one for my daughter. I didn't want her to see me struggle, I didn't want her to see me stressed, I didn't want her to ask why me and her daddy always yelled at each other. No way. We fought like a married couple before she was even conceived - what the hell would have happened after she was born, if we brought her home?

I'm getting off track, as usual. My point was, today was better. I get to go back to work next week, pending the okay from the doctor tomorrow. Please keep your fingers crossed for me! I don't want to have to get another x-ray, and I want these crutches gone!

Something that makes me smile

This photo never fails to make me smile. My little girl's wearing one of the gifts I got her for her very first Christmas! It didn't fit her until she was about four months - this is an older photo (from March), but I love it nonetheless. I'm so blessed and grateful that her adoptive parents let me send her gifts right to their house, and that my little girl actually uses them :) :)

Rainy days are my enemy...

I used to love rainy days. I used to love the smell before the rain came, the way the grass looked so glittery after a storm, just everything about it. I was happier on rainy days than I was on sunny days; but not because I was a gloomy person, but because I got migraines from being out in the sun for too long and, again, I loved the sound and smell of rain. But lately, they just make me feel even worse. Days like this make me want to just curl up in bed and be miserable(r) than I am. Yes, I just made a word up. It was pouring rain the day I left the hospital...maybe that has something to do with it. Who knows. Maybe it's the fact that it doesn't take much of anything to get me all riled up these days. I actually drove by the hospital she was born at today (not on purpose, I actually try to avoid it at all costs, but it's hard because it's five minutes from my house and in the center of one of the longest main roads in my town, which connects to about 5 other towns in the area) and I was flooded with all these mixed emotions and memories all at once. In a flashback, I almost simultaneously saw four or five scenes play out in my head. I remembered the two and a half days I spent there with her and my heart almost burst with happiness. I will cherish those days, hours, minutes, for the rest of my life. I will never forget them. Even if I ever do go on to have more children one day - those memories of my first born little princess will be etched in my mind forever. I also sharply remembered the look on her father's face when he walked in the room and laid eyes on her for the very first time. And he said, "hey little girl....I'm your daddy.." with his little crooked smile he had when he was really excited. I didn't expect that reaction from him at the time, but I had never been as happy to see an interaction between two people as I was then. Next, I thought of the last night in the hospital, the one that I kept her with me all night during, and how she never ever cried. Then, around 3 a.m., after I fed her, I laid her in the bed beside me and tried to get as much sleep as possible, while also not wanting to miss a precious minute with her. I knew time was running out. Then I woke up about a split second before I heard her stop sucking her binky and then I heard it lightly land on the bed. I didn't move, hoping she was sleeping, and suddenly she started wailing for it. I put it back in her mouth, and it fell out about 10 more times afterwards. Like clockwork, the minute I drifted off to the sound of her sucking the binky, it would suddenly stop, waking me up, and then she would cry. I wanted so badly to do anything and everything in my power to stop her from being sad...while I still could...while it was still my job to protect her and keep her happy. Finally, the last in my series of memories, came the worst. It was when I drove by the little side entrance to the hospital, the one we drove down when I was in labor, and it was also the one I had a clear view of from my room. I remember it rained the three days I was there, and every day as he father left, I watched him walk over to his car, in the rain. Then, on the day I was scheduled to leave, I remember sitting there, rocking her back and forth, and the rain was pelting down harder than I had ever heard it. I hadn't even been looking out the window, I had been staring at her. But then I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a hunter green Jeep pull in - the one belonging to the adoption agent that was coming to, in my eyes, tear my daughter out of my arms. (That's how I felt at the time - but I was in no way pressured or coerced.) I cracked. I wanted to run out of the room and hide somewhere. What would that have helped? Or solved? I don't know. I was thinking irrationally. Anyways, the emotions I felt at that very moment all hit me like a ton of bricks today when I drove by. Yes, every single detail of what I have just written went through my mind in a split second today. It's crazy how memories and the mind work. It stung me to remember that last day. I had tears welling up in my eyes but I knew I needed to pull it together because I had an appointment to make. I couldn't show up bawling my eyes out, and once I start, it takes a LOT to stop me.
Days like this are hard. I realize how blessed I am to have given birth to such a healthy, happy, bright baby girl and how blessed I am that she is with the family she belongs with. I have no doubt in my mind she is where she belongs; where she needs to be, and that she is safe, well taken care of, and extremely loved. But I can't stop these thoughts from occasionally entering my mind....thoughts that she belongs with me and only me. I know that's just my heart talking, but I desperately need the day to come where my head overrules my heart. I know I made the best choice, I did the best thing. But that doesn't make it any easier, that doesn't take an ounce of the pain away and doesn't make me miss her any less. Hopefully, tomorrow I will be busier and my mind will be preoccupied. All I ask is for it to be a little better than today..and I know it will happen for me. One day at a time!

Here are some photos of the day we left the hospital. I was in love with her "going home" outfit!

Rewind four years...

I was just reading through my old private blog, a blog that pretty much documents 98% of my relationship with him. I started it way back in 2004, just as a place to write and vent that was password protected so only I could see it, and so I didn't have to worry about any paper trails or anything like that. Then, in 2006, when I met him, it quickly became the chronicles of he and I. I wrote in it almost every day, because I felt like I was on top of the world and I wanted to remember every moment of it, I was terrified I would lose the memories. It's funny, when I read it, I can remember exactly how I felt when I wrote it...it's almost as if I'm time traveling back to the exact moment. Quickly it became a place for me to rant and about our arguments and get things off my chest rather than a place for me to swoon over him. It's hard to read some of it, and looking back on it, I can almost see where we took a turn for the worst. I know one thing though, I can see through my words how much I adored him in the beginning, and truly loved him the entire time. I still do love him, if for nothing else now than the beautiful little girl he gave me. She is the best gift he could ever have given me. One of the hardest, but still the best. Oh I can still remember how my heart melted the first time he held her. Two of the people I loved most in the world, as close as they could possibly be together. It's memories like that that make it even harder for me to move on, though. I know I made the decision that we were better off apart, and I fully believe that still, it's just hard...very, very hard. I'm better off "without" him, but to lose both him and my daughter, is overwhelming. I'm making it, I'm still here, and I know it could be worse.

My heart sort of twisted around itself when I read something I wrote on November 21, 2007 (a few weeks short of four years before my little girl was born) -
"so i was just thinking for some reason what our kid would look like, if we ever had a kid. dont get me wrong, im not going crazy  and i do NOT want to be pregnant and/or have a child at age 19, but i was just wondering, what would it look like? i would hope it'd be a girl. then i started thinking of pretty names. like kayleigh madison. thats pretty. or adriana or arianna or something. idk. im really not crazy, i hope i dont look back on this and think WTF was i thinking, haha, i think every girl at some point wonders what their kids would look like with someone they're in love with..."

Hmm, I got my "wish," didn't I? But it didn't turn out quite how I had envisioned it back when I was in la-la land, imaging our beautiful little tanned-skin baby that I didn't think would ever actually exist..

I love you, beautiful :)

Happy Father's Day

I think Father's Day should be called "Daddy's Day" from now on, or something like that. Any man can be a father, not to be too cliche, but it really does take so much more to be a dad. Then again, I guess saying "father's day" sounds more proper :)

A very special Father's Day wish to my dad. I could not be more proud to call him my dad, mine and only mine. He has been there for me through thick and thin, even (especially, actually) when I didn't deserve it. He is the only person in the world who managed to get me to crack a smile on the day I left the hospital without my daughter, and he wins the award for the best hugs ever. I can't wait for the day that my little girl can get to know him...she will be so lucky to have him as a grampa, along with her parent's fathers as well.

Also, happy father's day to my little girl's bio father as well as (and even more so) her adoptive daddy. I am grateful for him for being there for her because I would not have been able to have provided that for her. Her adoptive mom says that she is "absolutely the apple of her dad's eye" and that she is already a daddy's girl. I was and am such a daddy's girl, too. I think the bond between father and daughter is one of the most amazing on the planet, there is just something special there that I can't quite put my finger on when you see the way a dad's face lights up when he looks at his little girl, whether she is 2 days old, 2 months old, 2 years old, or 22 years old. It's just beautiful. I'm so happy my little girl will have that growing up. Not that her bio dad wouldn't have been in her life - I know he would have, but it would have been intermittent at best. Every other weekend and holidays...I didn't want that. I've been so blessed to always have both of my parents to grow up with in my home, and I am grateful for that because I know that's rare these days. I know from my own experience how excited I used to get, when my dad worked the late night shift at amtrak, and I would spend the majority of my evening making him some kind of "dessert" (as in, something only a parent would eat, just to make their kid smile, and then maybe spit it out when they weren't looking, hahaha) and I would leave a note on it saying hi, and I love you, and then in the morning I'd give him the 3rd degree as to whether he liked it or not, and why or why didn't he? What could I do better next time? Pink sprinkles, or purple sprinkles?

I don't know. I just want her to have that constant relationship in her life. Those moments are what I remember most from my childhood and I cherish them. I want her live to be even better than mine was, and I couldn't even begin to give her that when I couldn't start with the basics: two parents, living together, who didn't fight constantly, and who weren't together "just" because they had a child.

I'm getting off track here, as usual! I know I have been quiet lately, but honestly I've been sort of miserable, just stuck in bed for the time being because of my sprained foot from my car accident. I can only watch so many movies, read so many books, etc., before my mind gets tired of it and I start drifting off into that scary corner of my mind where I think over and doubt everything I've done in the past year or so of my life. So, every time I've gone to post something, I've realized that it's just all gloom and doom, so I thought better of it. Believe it or not, I don't enjoy whining! :)

saying bye-bye to my car...

Not a huge loss in the scheme of things. Let's be real, I have been through much tougher times than this and I will be fine through this, too.

Yesterday, at 5:21pm (or so my cell phone told me, that was the time I dialed 911), I rear-ended someone and totaled my precious car. We had all been driving in stop-and-go traffic, and the person in front of me stopped short and I bore my weight down on my GAS PEDAL rather than my brake pedal. I crashed into the person in front of me, who was then forced into the person in front of them. Luckily, no one was hurt, besides me, and even that was a minor damage. I sprained my driving foot and my left shoulder is so sore that it's nearly immobile, but all is well otherwise. I would have been hurt a lot more had my seat belt not been on.
It was a huge wake up call for me - in fact, it was almost as if God, or someone, slapped me across the face and said "get your shit together." My mind has been so preoccupied lately that even I have recognized that I feel like I am not mentally where I am physically. I can be in a room with 5 people, engaged in a conversation, but my thoughts are truly elsewhere. I know what I was thinking about at the time, too, which is the scariest part. I was thinking about the last conversation I had with her father, and how in the middle of it, as he was saying something I deemed important, his phone died. He never called back, which I found strange. (I know, I know, we should not even be talking at all. I know this. It's just so hard to break a habit, but even that is a poor excuse. That is a whole 'nother story in and of itself, for another day.) I was also wondering, since it was around 5 and all, what my little girl was doing. Was she at music class? Eating dinner? Babbling and laughing? All of this was going through my head in the .5 seconds when I realized, hey, my car is getting way too damn close to the back of that Camry. Then, CRASH. It is by far the worst accident I've been involved in - I had a little fender bender (or, rather, my driver's side door bender) when I was 17, pulling out of the parking lot of my high school. Other than that, I have a clean driving record (sans a speeding ticket or two!!)
My car is valued at almost $9,000 (even though it's a 2002), and I owe close to $7,000 on my loan, so I am praying for a miracle. Hopefully, I can get enough to pay off my loan, and then start from scratch with a $4,000 - $5,000 dinger to get me from A to B for now. I am no longer going for looks or luxury; I learned the hard way that I do not have the money for that at this point in my life.
I can say this for sure: this was the very first, and probably only, time that I was happy that my little baby girl was elsewhere. The impact was 100% in the front and she would have been in the back of course, but the way my car hit the other one, it was jolted forward with such force that not only did the two front air bags go out, but the air bags on the passenger door and the passenger back door did as well. I know it's a stretch to think that, it's like something a mother would say when she went out to pick something up quickly. "Thank God I left my baby at home with her dad" or whoever. For me to say it, it sounds crazy. As if it were a chance I took, as if it were even an option to have had her with me on this particular ride.
I need to start making some more positive changes in my life, and not focus on things that so clearly distract me from doing majorly important, risky things such as driving. I'm still just thankful no one was hurt, and that I walked away from it, and, if nothing else, I will be rid of a car that has been nothing but bad luck since I got it in October '09......but I will still miss it deep down! :(

 

beautiful song

I came across this song on YouTube...and I think it's so amazing, and I had to share. I want to make a CD for my daughter, but I feel that by the time she's old enough to listen to it, the music will be completely out of style. Not only that, but a lot of them hold special meaning to me and she may not (or more than likely not) understand the significance. I had the following songs in mind:
1. A Mother's Prayer - Rachel Aldous
2. From God's Arms to My Arms to Yours - Michael McLean (though I am partial to the Marie Osmond version)
3. A Mother's Prayer - Celine Dion
4. I Give You to His Heart - Alison Kraus (one of my favorites)
5. Daughters - John Mayer
6. Goodbye - Jagged Edge

The thing is, the lyricsc of these songs touch me, but the *sound* of them, does not. I am not a fan of Celine Dion, nor am I a fan of Jagged Edge. Maybe I could print out the lyrics, or better yet, write them out, in the photo album I am making for her with her birth father.....I am including photos of me from the day I was born up to now (maybe one or two for each year) and the same for photos of her father. I want her to be able to have that, to see who she looks like, just to see who we were. I have already given her adoptive parents a photo album of all of her photos from her birth and the week leading up to the day I signed the papers. I gave it to them the night I gave her to them. Her Amom recently told me that she never expressed how much that meant to her, how special it was that I gave that to them and that they will always have those very first photos to share with her, the photos from the first  minutes and days of her life. She said it was one of the things that made her transition to them so special and blessed. I wanted it that way, so I am glad it worked out and that they see it that way as well. I didn't want her to go "pick up" a baby and leave. I wanted to be there, for some sort of closure, I guess. Everyone was shocked when I said I wanted to be there, they told me it would be too hard, too painful, to see her leave with them, or to leave without her again. But I saw it as closure, to see my little girl off. I wanted to see the look of pure joy on her parent's faces when I placed her in their arms. I wanted to be 100% sure she was leaving with them, in the safety of the car seat in their car, so I could rest a *little* bit easier that night. I knew for sure where my baby was, and that she was safe, and believe it or not, that took a bit of weight off of my shoulders.

Anyways, on to the point of my post: this amazing song.

The 11th . . .

Today has been a rough day for me. It seems like months that go by mean so much more to me than they should. I have created anniversaries for the craziest things regarding my baby. I have always been one to celebrate momentous occasions, for example, I remember dates no one else would ever think twice about, like the very first time me and my daughter's father (now "ex") went to the movies, the first time we slept together, the first time he told me he loved me, etc. Not the usual "anniversaries" people celebrate...I think I just like special moments like those, I cherish them all. I don't like to take things like that for granted, because you never know if you will wake up tomorrow. I think about those days when they pass, even still, even though he and I are no longer anything remotely close to what we used to be.

It seems like every month for the past seven months I have come up with some other anniversary to think of. I feel like, in a way, it tortures me, and in a way, I like to think about these days because they make my heart happy at the same time. Of course the 2nd of every month marks another month of life for my little one. So that, while being a tough day, is also an amazing day. The 3rd is the day her father said 'goodbye' to her in the hospital, and also the night I kept her in my room with me all night. (The first night, I didn't have it in me, I was terrified I would get even MORE attached, if that was even possible), and the 4th is the day I left the hospital without her. Then of course, the 9th, is the day I went to visit her while we were sort of in limbo as to whether I was going to sign (which, as I've said, I knew deep down it was right all along, I just in no way wanted to come to terms with it or accept it), the 10th, I finally signed, and then we have the 11th. The night I placed my little girl in her adoptive dad's arms for the first and last time, and walked away without her. Seven months ago. It's such a short time, and also such a long time. And then, after that week of hellish dates is over, the 16th comes creeping up on me - the day her father signed his part of the paperwork.

I replay those two weeks - from November 2nd to November 16th - over and over in my head, and I can remember it as clearly as if it were yesterday. I don't know where I got the courage to actually do it. I must have gone into robot mode or something. All I know is, deep down somewhere, part of me is glad I did it...glad, for her.

I can't wait to get more photos of her. It's approaching almost a month since I last got any, and her mom has been trying to email at least once a month for me, at least in the beginning. I love her so much. I couldn't have asked for better. I know she and I don't know eachother, but I feel like she's part of my family. Extended family, maybe. I don't know, I know it's not normal to say you love someone you barely know, but this isn't a "normal" situation, this woman is raising my daughter. I just love her, I love both her and her husband, and that's all there is to it.

Finding Nemo is on tv right now, so I'm going to go watch that. The five year old in me is dying to see it again, even though I've seen it, oh, 85,9082 times!

Here's a photo of my and my 'baby girl,' Lily. She just turned five, and I've called her baby girl since the day we brought her home, 5 years ago this month. She's been somewhat of a rock for me throughout all this, as silly as that may sound to people who don't have pets. She rarely used to come to me, I always had to come to her, and then she was affectionate. But lately, on the days when I just can't get out of bed, or I am lying there with a few silent tears.....she always saunters into my room and gets up on my bed and sits right on me, purring in my ear and just being such a little love. :)

Goodnight.

My scrapbook:

This is one of my favorite ways to keep busy. My book has 12 pages, so I laid it out in my mind to have one page for each month, up to one year. It's gone a little off course, but for the most part, I'm on track. I believe I have 6 pages left, and she is seven months old, so there's one extra. I hope to have extra pictures from her 1st birthday anyway - so I'll be happy to have two pages for that! I take it out and look at it at least once a week...just to sort of see how much she's already changed. I'm so glad I started it. I didn't have the heart to do it in November but come mid-December or so, I finally could manage it without getting tear stains all over it in the process. <3

I hope to show it to her one day, so she knows she was always on my mind and I cherished every little piece of her that was shared with me.

Unintentional rant.

I tried to make today a better day. I don't know how to feel. I don't mean I can't decide how I want to feel - I mean I literally don't know how to feel. It's weird. I let myself truly feel everything when I was in the hospital, the day I left the hospital, and in the week up to when I signed the papers. I was just myself. I didn't act happy, didn't act angry, didn't act sad, just acted how I felt. But I feel like I've learned to tune it out now, to the point where I don't know how I feel anymore. I don't regret my decision - at least not in my head. My heart, of course, yearns for my little girl with every moment of every day. Probably when I'm asleep, too. How could it not?

I took the Prozac my OB gave me for post-partum for a month or two, until I took myself off of it. I don't want to need anti-depressants for the rest of my life. I don't want to depend on them. I figured now is the time, at least for the first year or so, to let myself just be sad. To just be depressed, and learn to work my way through it. If I'm chemically tricking my body into thinking I'm content and happy, when and if I ever come off of the medication, I won't know how to deal. I could be 25, 30, hell, I could be 45 by the time I weaned myself off of them. And then I could crash, and have to deal with all these emotions that are much better processed in the here and now. It's acceptable for me to be sad and lash out right now. Who would understand if I held it all in, faking it for years and then one day I cracked? So, the long and short of that is, I no longer take the antidepressants any more, and don't know if I should or shouldn't. There are days I feel depressed, days when I literally, for the life of me, cannot get out of bed. And not due to laziness or being tired, it seems like I physically can't get myself up. I hate that feeling. I want to get up, go out, do things, stay busy. But I can't get out of bed. I can't find a happy medium. I feel like I'd be so much more happier if my daughter were with me, but I know that's only a temporary fix and it would only heal my heart. Realistically, I think life would be a lot more stressful. Dealing with work, babysitters, her father, the whole nine yards. But don't think I got off easy - my life is filled with almost an equivalent amount of stress created by missing her, seeing babies EVERYWHERE, hearing babies cry ALL the TIME. I get so agitated when I hear ignorant people say "take care of your responsibilities. you got pregnant, suffer the consequences." These people don't know how much I would have LOVED to "suffer" the consequences. I feel guilty about sleeping through the night, because I should be getting up to feed and change MY daughter. Think before you speak. I didn't "hand off" my baby to someone else because I wanted to be able to be on my own schedule, to go out and party and just be selfish. I hate when people say things like that. I feel like I'm being judged when people see that my parents have a decent house and I have decent things. I have a "nice" car, but it's 9 years old and I struggle to make my payments every month. I have a "nice" Coach purse, but it's the first one I've ever owned (at age 23) and I got it as a gift from both of my parents. I just hate when people judge others, and I will not deny that I am guilty of it, too.

I guess the point of my rant is, I hate people who categorize women who have made the choice that I have made. People who act as if I didn't take sex seriously because once I got pregnant, I gave my responsibility to someone else. Because I didn't want her. That's the furthest from the truth. I would have sacrificed anything in my power to have raised my little girl. Okay, I could have gone into a shelter with her and waited a few years on a waiting list to get into section 8 (as her father, a few times, tried to 'push' me to do), but what kind of life is that for a baby? No, she wouldn't remember those first two or so years of her life. But I would. How could I take a stable, warm, loving environment with two parents away from her, to keep her in a shelter that's seen God only knows what, just to then move her into low-income housing (nothing against it) only to watch her mom and dad fight constantly, be shuffled from one parent's house to the next every weekend, and be kept in day care all day while I worked as many jobs as needed just to put food on the table? Personally, that's not right. Kudos to all the moms who do it, I admire you as well. I know it's a struggle, I'm not even parenting my daughter and I know it's a struggle. Just please, don't ever think I took the easy way out. This is hell. Every day, this is hell. I worry constantly. I have this overwhelming maternal instinct that I should be near my child, maybe even more so than those moms who are by their child's side. I've found out, or should I say realized, that being a mom, no matter how motherhood comes to you, isn't easy. I'm sure it's not easy to be an adoptive mom. To wait and wait and struggle to conceive your own biological children, only to realize that you can't. I know it's not easy to be a first mom (side note: I don't like the term 'birth mother,' never have, never will. I was not just good enough to BIRTH my daughter. I created her, she is my own flesh and blood, half my DNA, and all of those facts did not go away when I gave birth to her and didn't take her home from the hospital....thank you), I'm living it. It can't be easy to be a mom who never got to meet her baby that was growing inside of her, nor can it be easy to be a mom who met her baby outside of her body but the baby had already gone back up to heaven. Those women are all moms, we are all moms. People say I don't deserve to be in this group called "motherhood," because in the eyes of society, I am not a mom. I have no car seat in my backseat, no crib in my house, no baby clothes, no bottles strewn all over the kitchen. But no one has the right to give me a title, whether it's mom or not mom. I know the job of a parent, any parent, is to put your child first and foremost, even before your own needs and feelings. I couldn't think about just myself when I made my decision; had I done that, she would have come home with me, no questions asked. I had to think of her and ONLY her. Of what was in her best interest, in the best interest of her future. Isn't that what all moms do? What all dads do? Yes, it is. So tell me how I am any different.

I have my own opinions and they vary at times, but deep down I know I am a mother. Not mommy, but a mother. So many can't understand that, and I understand that. Before my daughter, I probably was one of those ignorant people who thought some of the things that I've said here in this post. I honestly don't know, because I honestly never thought of it. Adoption was never part of my life, never talked about, so I don't know how I felt about it. I remember saying "I could never have my baby, see my baby, and then give my baby to someone else," whenever there was talk of adoption brought up. Maybe in health class? Psych class? I don't know.

Anyways. No one in particular set me off today, I guess I just felt like ranting because I overheard something small earlier today and it just snowballed into this. Tomorrow, or whenever I post again, I promise it'll be on a more positive note!

new blog :)

So, I have decided to ditch my livejournal once and for all (maybe!). I've had one since 2003, so it's hard to break the habit, but I just don't really like the design of it too much, and my posts don't show up half the time anyways. Those of you who have found me on here most likely know all about my journey thus far from reading my previous blog, but for those of you who aren't familiar - this is it: http://tink-1010.livejournal.com (and there is a link below.) I'd summarize "me" and my life in a nutshell on here, but as I said, most of you already know, and if you don't, it's ALL there. I don't even have the heart right now, honestly, to go back and copy and paste any entries because that would mean I'd have to read them. I'm not ready yet. I know I made that blog for the sole purpose of writing down my feelings, getting them out, etc., and looking back and seeing my progress (emotionally, physically, what have you), but I don't feel as though I've progressed enough just yet.

In fact, I feel like the past few days have been a relapse of sorts. I realized something that I didn't want to realize - the reason I'm getting by just 'fine' and dealing with everything so 'well,' is because I'm drilling it down deep somewhere inside of me, burying it, so I can go on with my daily life. There are things I HAVE to do. I can't go to work sobbing everyday. I didn't give my daughter a better life so mine could crumble to pieces. I want so badly for her to be an active part of my life someday - when she wants me, I want to be happy and successful for HER. I want, more than anything, for her to be proud of me. For her to see the reasons why her father and I did what we did - for her to see that we not only bettered her life by giving her up, but bettered our own as well. Well, mainly mine. He is a whole 'nother story. I'd like to say I couldn't care less, I'd like to say I don't care if I never ever see him again, but I know that's not true. THAT is another emotion I was burying. I wasn't allowing myself to miss him. I wasn't admitting to myself how much I still love and miss him, because even I was ashamed of my own feelings towards him. I am 1,500% better off without him, but my head and my heart have been in that battle since, oh, about 1.5 years into our relationship. I just don't know what to do anymore, I don't know where to turn to. I feel like no one understands. I try to talk to my friends about it; they don't know what to say. I don't want to talk to my mother about it (at least not right now), and when I do turn to him to talk to him, I always feel bad after, like I broke a silent promise I made to my daughter and to myself.

I don't know, I'm rambling. As you all know I usually do ;)...just trying to keep my spirits up, and have faith. I wouldn't change my daughter being part of this world for ANYTHING. I wouldn't trade the pain for anything because it (and she) has taught me so much. About myself, about the world, about love.