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.