Tuesday, July 26, 2011

To-die-for pink sandals

I had a strange moment today. I desperately need a new pair of sandals so I, being the shoe-a-holic that I am, started searching the internet far and wide for a really cute pair. I was going to go to Target, but that's such a hit-or-miss store when it comes to shoes so I changed my mind. I looked at Payless and Zappos because cheap is the way to go for me these days! I found a pair of T-strap ones that look similar to ones I've been dying for, but I didn't want to wait the 10 - 14 days for shipping. Instant gratification is the name of the game when it comes to shoes. So, since the nearest Payless is only about 5 minutes from my house, I decided I'd just go there and look around, even though I knew full well that they only have 2 out of 10 things that they list on the internet in the store. Okay - here's the point of my story. My main question to the owner of the Payless store near my house is this: why do you put the teeny tiny cute pink little girl's shoes on the back wall, sectioned off into a little space only visible by someone walking straight down the aisle that houses the size nine shoes? It was torturous. I ignored them at first, as I usually do, but it was like a car accident; eventually I went over and looked at them. It resulted in me buying these:
even though I had absolutely no intentions to send them to her. I know I can't. I can't possibly send her everything I see that makes me think of her, or that I think would look adorable on her (because I think everything would). So...yes, I really bought them. They are sitting on my bed beside me right now, yet another thing that I will put in her keepsake box, even though they were never 'hers.' Everything in my keepsake box is something that was hers or something that directly has to do with her - her hospital bracelets, locks of her hair, her birth certificate, etc. This pair of shoes...this is entirely something different. I keep wondering what made me do it. I can see someone thinking it's a little twisted to buy shoes for a child that is no longer even "mine." The rational side of me knows that I cannot justify it in any way, but I also know that I don't need to justify it to anyone. I snuck them in my house because, although I know my mother would cry if she saw them, I also know she would say "what are you going to do with those?! Why would you waste your money?" Well, I didn't waste it. I fell in love with them, I wanted them, let me have my few minutes of happiness over these adorable little shoes that would be on my daughter at this very moment if she were here with me right now.
Here's the weird part that I was leading up to. My low-gas light came on as I was driving home, so I went to go get gas so I wouldn't have to on my way to work at seven in the morning. I had the little shoe box on the passenger seat beside me, and after the guy handed me back my credit card, I turned to the side to put it back in my wallet. Immediately I noticed the wallet sized photo of my daughter in my wallet, staring at me, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the shoe box and a pink shirt rolled up into a ball in my backseat, rolled up so tight that it appeared to be a lot smaller in size than it really was. It was my shirt, but it was folded in a way that it could have been a little kid's shirt. Anyways, for that split second I thought, "this looks like the car of a mom." Minus the ever-absent car seat, that is. I don't know why I found it so noteworthy, it just struck me all of a sudden and the thought has stayed with me ever since. Granted, it was only an hour ago, but still. It was like I drifted into fantasy land for a minute, but before I even realized where I was I was brought back to reality. Maybe one day, it will be my reality. Who knows? I always said I never wanted kids, and then it shifted to me saying I don't want any more kids, Arianna was and always will be enough, and I would hate to have another and make her wonder why I chose adoption for her and kept my other child. But lately I've been thinking of how special it felt to feel her moving in my tummy, and how breathtaking it was to actually hold her for the first time.
I miss that. I miss that exact moment in time that was captured in that photo...looking at it makes it almost seem tangible again. Makes her seem tangible again. She's not; but she will be one day.
And even though I was shocked, terrified, and essentially alone (even with my parents and her birth father by my side), it was still the most amazing, loving experience I've ever been through. I can't imagine how special it must feel to PLAN to make a baby with someone you truly truly love. Yes I did love her father, but I mean love with a commitment. I want to be anxious to take a pregnancy test in an excited, ecstatic way, not anxious in a bad way. Time will tell what I am meant to do in this world, that I know for sure. If you had told me two years ago that I would be a first mother, a mother who chose adoption for her child, I would never have believed it. Never in a million years. But here I am, living with my heart walking without me in the form of a beautiful little girl, and I'm still alive :)

Monday, July 25, 2011

My tattoo. . .

This may be a short one because I am extremely tired. I didn't sleep well last night...I went to bed at 11 and didn't fall asleep til nearly 12:30, then I woke up again around 2 and tossed and turned until about 4, and finally woke up for good at 5:30. No fun, let me tell ya.
Work started out well, I was greeted in the morning by a litter of seven 4 week old kittens squealing and squirming around in their carrier, so that brought a huge smile to my face. One of the technicians at my job rescued them from an animal shelter and is nursing them until they are old enough to eat on their own. They were too adorable! Anyways, work was going pretty well, until....I lost it. I don't know if it was the lack of sleep, the stress I was under at work today, or a combination of everything all at once, but I went out back to look for an animal's medical record and a tech (the one who brought in the kittens) said, "Oooh, what does your tattoo say?" and I replied the same way I always do when I'm asked. I said "It's my daughter's birthday.." and she looked up and smiled and said "aww...." but gave me a quizzical look, as if to say "why does it have the wording above it that it does?," because it is clearly a 'memorial' or a tattoo in honor of someone. So to break the awkward silence, I told her that I gave her up for adoption. Her face practically crumbled and she said "oh, how beautiful that is, it must be so special to you" and I nodded my head for what seemed like an eternity and then I said "I'm going to cry." And no sooner had I said it than the flood gates opened. Which, in turn, made her come over and hug me and say, "I'm gonna cry, too" and it was all downhill from there. I tried to compose myself as soon as I could, especially because my practice manager, the two veterinarians, and another tech were peering around the corner, wondering who the heck the blubbering fool was in the back room with the kittens. She told me that that was the most loving thing I could have done and said she was sorry she made me upset. I told her, as best as I could through my babbling, that she didn't make me upset and that I don't usually act like this. Which is true...many, many people have asked about my tattoo and I've held it together and told them matter-of-factly. I know that I put it out there; I got a permanent ink on my body expressing how I feel about my daughter and it's right on the top of my foot, so people are bound to see it. It's not like she went snooping and found out; it was right there, in plain sight. I expected the inquiries, from friends who didn't know yet, from people at work, etc., so there was absolutely nothing that she did wrong. Today was the first time, though, that I've cried when someone's pointed it out. She felt awful for making me cry, which made me feel awful for making her feel awful, and also made me feel awful about the whole damn situation in it's entirety. I feel like I should be going to my car at work and seeing a pink car seat in the backseat, not going to my car to get napkins to wipe the mascara off my face and try to look presentable for clients. Bonus: I have super sensitive skin and my eyes are already a little watery from my allergies to really long-haired dogs, so for the rest of the day after my crying fit, my eyes were bloodshot and a little puffy, which led to every person I made eye contact with doing a double-take and I could almost see the words swirling around in their heads..."do I ask if she's okay?" Humiliating. I fully intended on blaming allergies, but luckily no one asked.
I hope, in the future, I can compose myself a little more when need be. I know it's not healthy to hold it all in *all the time,* but usually I try to put my game face on at work and school and other social settings and not let myself feel it when people say things or ask questions. My emotions took me by surprise today, that's for sure...

Sunday, July 24, 2011


Today's been a rough day. I can't exactly put my finger on why, but it has. It was one of those days where I was very reluctant to get out of bed, and the minute I did, I just wanted to get back in it. I tried to work on my homework, but couldn't focus. I tried to find a movie to watch on t.v., and every single one had something to do with couples, babies, or both. Then I took note of the date and realized it's the 24th, which is not a significant day when it comes to my daughter or anything like that, it's just that three years ago today I went on a little 'mini-vacation' with her birth father and it was the most amazing three days of my life. I remember it like it was yesterday, and I guess once I realized it, I just let myself be sad about it rather than trying to mask it or bury it all day. I know I shouldn't get so upset about him's been a while now, and I should be moving on from him a lot faster than I am. Some days I am completely, 100% fine without him. Others I feel like I am going to cease to exist if we don't speak. I think that's normal - I don't know. This was my first real break-up, aside from the boys you 'date' in eighth grade, which basically means that you messaged them first when you signed onto AIM, before you IM'ed any of your other friends.

In a lame attempt to cheer myself up, I went out and bought these really cute stickers for my scrapbook:

...and now, I am going to curl up on the couch with spongebob mac & cheese and my kitty.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Carousels and crying spells

The post title really says it all. I woke up in a really good mood this morning, so I started the day off on a good foot. I actually went for a walk before the heat and humidity became too much to bear (it reached over 100 degrees today...ick!) and then spent most of the mid-morning and afternoon working on some case studies for my psych class. I am growing to love that class, by the way, now that I finally have my textbook and am able to keep up now. I had an internal conflict most of the day about whether or not I should call my daughter's bio father for the photos or not or if I should just let it rest. I'm really waiting on him to finish this book; part of me wants to just say "screw him, I gave him plenty of time" but that's not even punishing him, it's my little girl who will miss out on her father being in her scrapbook. I told him I needed them within the month and that was almost two weeks ago...time is running out! I can admit, though, that one of my huge flaws (that I've only come to realize in the months after my daughter was born) is that I'm a huge control freak. Now, seeing my messy bedroom, you wouldn't believe that. My room reflects a person with absolutely no control, and my car used to, as well. In a weird way I feel like I've put up this strange guard, especially when it comes to anything and everything having to do with him or my daughter. I've taken the phrase "don't expect anything and you can't get let down" to a whole new level. I won't call him at a time when I think he won't answer (because of work, etc.) because I'll get upset if he doesn't call back within a day or two, or 'forgets' to call back. I won't expect an email from my daughter's adoptive parents, EVER, because then every time I check my email and there's nothing there, I get sad. Don't get me wrong, I haven't become Miss Debbie Downer who looks at the glass as being half empty all the time. I just try to plan my life according to guidelines I've made up in my own mind that I think will cause the least amount of hurt. I don't mean that I'll never fall in love again for fear of getting hurt, or I'll detach myself completely from my child for fear that I'll never ever get to see her again....I just mean, I try to avoid situations that will bring conflict. It stresses me out far too much. Bottom line: I spent too much of today avoiding call much time, in fact, that now it's too late and I won't call at all.
I went for a drive to the edge of a nearby town today, where the road just literally stops and turns into sand. You can see the Boston skyline so clearly from there, but it's far enough away that you just see the silhouettes of the buildings, and none of the bright lights from the city. I took some pretty good photos of the sunset, which was my main goal in going there. There is one I particularly like, where you can see the sun peaking through the gap in the sails of a sailboat.

After that, I was heading home and I noticed the carousel...the one I used to go on all the time when I was little. I knew it was there, in the back of my mind, but sort of forgot until I saw the lights all around the circular roof - you know, the same bulbs that they have on vanity mirrors. They caught my eye, so I pulled over and parked and walked a little closer to see if I could get some good photos. I didn't want anyone to think I was a weirdo who was trying to photograph their kids, so I kept my distance and just sort of meandered around, hoping it might clear out soon and I could get some shots. Somewhere among walking, wondering, and waiting, I felt tears welling up in my eyes. I just kept thinking about the photo that C sent me of Ari on the carousel...her first carousel ride, which was last month. I know they weren't on that particular carousel, but I kept looking at the horses going 'round and 'round and wondering, "is that the one that her perfect little hands were grasping onto so tightly?" yet knowing that it wasn't. I decided to forgo the opportunity to take any photos and just got back in the car and tried not to let my tears get the best of me. I didn't want to get too upset; things like this will come up 80,000,000 more times within my lifetime, I'm sure. Maybe crying would have helped me to work though it, who knows. It's over, I'm safe in bed, and the carousel is as far away physically as I'm trying to make it in my memory.
I can't even describe how much I wish I had been there with her. Anyone who knows me knows that, any anyone who has ever had to be away from their child in any way also understands that. To me, it's an amazing photo that shows me just how much she has grown..but at the same time, it symbolizes another moment and milestone missed. I guess I need to accept that from here on out (or, should I say from 11/11/2010 on out), everything I take part in that has to do with my daughter will always have the most bittersweet taste that I will ever experience...

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

There is, in fact, such a thing as a stupid question.

I've decided to put the rest of my little one's birth story on hold for a while. I got all of the details of her actual birth down on paper (so to speak!), and I realized I was trailing off in the direction of writing out each day up until I signed the papers, as well, and I didn't intend to go there. I think I will, for her, but not right now. It's still too hard to dig those out of my memory at the moment...even though I wouldn't have to do much digging since they nag at the corner of my mind daily.
I got out of work early today, at about 2:15 rather than 4:30, which was nice. Not so nice for my paycheck, but nice for me, because I got to catch up on a little sleep and a lot of homework. My mom's been home for a couple days with really bad back pain, so I texted her on my way home and asked if she wanted anything, like lunch, an iced tea from dunkie's, ice cream, whatever. She said that it would be nice if I brought home an ice cream, so I stopped at Dairy Queen and got her one. As I was in line, a woman got behind me with three boys, all of which appeared to be hers (looked just like her), and they were probably 7, 5, and 4, approximately. They were clearly very excited and hyper and kept screaming out the names of the 38 billion kinds of ice cream they wanted and yelling something about gummy bears. After I gave the girl at the window my order, I stepped to the side a little, because I wasn't sure if I should move so they could order and wait at the other window, or wait at the one I was at. The second I moved the boys ran up and took my place and she said to them "STOP IT! You just cut that lady! Apologize and GET BACK HERE!!" So I just looked at her and smiled and said "It's okay, I moved over!" and she sort of made this face towards them and said, "want a few boys? I'm sick of them, they're all yours, take em!" Now, I know she was kidding. And it was basically a harmless comment. Obviously I wouldn't spring something on her, like, "you should be thankful you have the resources to raise not one, but three boys, and you should be careful who you ask what because you don't know what the person you're talking to has been through!"....which was what I was thinking. I just gave her a halfway smile and turned around. A year and half ago that wouldn't have bothered me. In fact, I would have thought, "are you crazy!?!? NO!" but this time, it just made me miss my daughter even more. I know she didn't mean to upset me, as I said, it was an innocent comment and should be seen that way by me, too. But I couldn't help but let it get to me a little bit. I don't walk around with a sign on my forehead that says "I have a daughter who is being raised by parents a thousand times more capable than I," nor would I want to given the choice. So I can't expect people to not say things that will offend me. I've probably said something to offend someone today and didn't even realize it, you never know, because you don't know what someone's been through. I have told my own close friends that I don't want them to walk on eggshells around me; don't be afraid to tell me you're babysitting your neighbors newborn for a few hours...don't be afraid to talk about children with me, and don't try to avoid the baby section when we're at the store together. I appreciate it, I really do, but I don't want to be treated differently. I'm the same as the next person, I just have a different story, just like you, and you, and you.

I miss you, my little princess. I wonder what you're doing right at this very moment. I wonder if you're eating dinner or rolling around on the floor. I wonder if you're babbling away or laughing at your big brother. I wonder if you're napping, or already sleeping for the night. I'd like to say I wonder if you miss me, but I know you're too young for that...I know you don't. But that's the beauty of it. I miss you enough for both of us, but that's okay. I want to take on that pain so you don't feel it; as strange as it sounds to say it, I hope you never miss me. I don't want you to ever feel pain over longing for me. I want you to know in the back of your mind that I'm always here for you, while at the same time, not stepping on your Mom and Dad's toes. Just know that I loved you before you were born and the love I have for you grows more and more every day even though I can't be with you. You will always be my first born and you will always have my heart. <3

Monday, July 18, 2011

My little girl's birth story, Part One

I received an e-mail from someone at birthmom buds today, with a link to their website which I started looking around. While doing that, I found this idea, and thought it sounded awesome. I decided I would do it (or at least start it) tonight. The morning my daughter was born is still so fresh in my mind, and writing it out is something I've been meaning to do for a while. Every time I've tried, though, I wind up getting too upset or sad, and giving up. I made a promise to myself that I would do it before she turned one. Whether I'll mail it to her or not, I'm not sure. I'll probably keep it and if her adoptive mom ever tells me she's questioning it, I'll have a letter to give her about that morning. If not, I'll give it to her when she and I meet again. I don't know how I'll write it, I don't know if I'll write as if I'm talking to a child, an adolescent, an adult, or a mix of all three. Either way, here goes!

To my Little Princess,
I thought you may want to hear a story in which you are the star...the day you made your grand entrance into the world. The first time that I thought I was in labor turned out to be a false alarm, but you were still only a few short days away from coming! The night before my "false alarm," I was up most of the night because you were kicking away despite the doctor saying I might not feel you moving as much because you were growing and taking up more and more space inside my belly. I think you may also have been practicing to become a were spinning and twirling all night long, too. It was the most amazing feeling. By that point, anyone who put their hands on my belly could feel you from the outside just as much as I felt you from the inside. Anyways, It was my 2nd favorite holiday, Halloween, at 4 in the morning, when I started to get a really intense pain in my lower back. I remembered my doctor telling me about something called "back labor," so I immedaitely started counting the minutes between the onset of each pain. Once it got down to five to seven minutes apart, your (birth) grandmother called the doctor. I was sent into the hospital and told to put on the hospital gown, only to be told that you weren't quite as ready as I had thought. I was given the option to stay in the hospital and wait it out, or go home and rest comfortably. I decided I wanted to spend some more time with you on my own in my room, with no nurses and doctors coming and going as they pleased, so I went home. I spent Halloween pacing the house, lying down and reading, and taking a few baths. I remember sitting on the couch as it got dark outside, watching all the little kids dressed up as pumpkins, cats, ghosts, and witches running around the neighborhood and ringing our bell saying "trick or treat!?," and thinking of how badly I wanted to be able to do that with you someday. I sat there for a while with an ice pack on my back and a heating pad on my stomach...what a combination! It helped, though. I never actually went to sleep that night. I went to bed, but within the hour, the pain started to get worse and worse, and you started kicking more and more, almost as if you we're saying "I'm ready to come out now, Mom!" So, I texted your birthdad and told him I was heading back into the hospital. He wished me luck and told me I would do great and you would be beautiful, and to let him know when he could come up to the hospital. When I made your birth plan, he was not included as one of the people I wanted to allow in the room. Maybe it was the mix of emotions at the time, the reasons why aren't crystal clear to me anymore, but for some reason, I wanted him to come up right after you were born; not while I was in labor. He shared the same feelings, I remember that much. Looking back on it, I am truly sorry, as is he, that he was not in the room when you came into this world. But that's a story for another day!

My mom and I headed to the hospital around 11, and I was admitted into the very same room I saw on my tour of the hospital. One of the tiles right above the bed had a scene on it - a blue sky with clouds floating. I remember looking down at my belly as I got changed into the hospital gown and thinking "this is it, this is really it. I am going to get to meet my little girl within a few hours." I also remember being scared, wondering how I could physically manage giving birth. I knew billions of women had done it before me, and billions would after me, but when it came down to it, I was terrified. I got into the bed and they hooked me up to the IV. The nurse who did it placed it in my hand and it hurt really badly. After a while, my hand started to swell up, so eventually they moved it to my arm. I laid on my back for hours, although I don't remember ever being bored. I was fascinated with the sound of your heart beat on the doppler they had wrapped around my belly. Every now and then it would fade away and an alarm would go off and the nurses would all come running in, but they always found it liked to hide! You kept moving just out of it's ear shot, like you were playing hide and seek with it. (You usually won, it took them forever to get you to keep still in one spot!) The nurses had to help me to get up and out of the bed, so I didn't get to get up and walk around much. They gave me medicine to help me sleep that night because I wasn't falling asleep on my own.
The next morning, November first, I woke up and kept wondering if 11/1/11 would be your birthday. My doctor came in and checked me and I was still a little less than halfway ready for you to come out. At first I was a little disappointed, because I felt like I had been there for a while, laboring, and I should be further along. But I smartened up quickly and realized that I needed to cherish the time I still had left with us as "one." Finally, sometime in the late afternoon, my doctor gave me the O.K. to get up and walk around a bit. I had to drag my I.V. bag along with me as I waddled the hallways, but it felt good to be up and out of the bed for a while. Once I was back in the bed, I texted your birthdad to let him know how it was going and ate more lemon italian ice than I could even keep track of. Finally, around 8:30 that evening, the woman came in to give me the epidural. That was a little painful, but not too bad. It started to kick in right away, but I still had feeling on my entire left side. I told the nurse a few times, but I think she thought maybe I was exaggerating. Finally, they realized I really could feel everything on one side, and a man came in and re-administered my epidural. After that, I was so incredibly numb that my legs felt like two heavy tree trunks that were not even attached to my body by more than a teeny string. As hard as I tried, I could not move them. So when it was time for me to turn from one side to the other, my mom and a nurse had to help me, as if I were on a rotisserie.
I drifted in and out of sleep that night, all the while wondering who you would look more like. I drew little pictures of you in my head all night long. Finally at 3:30 a.m., I suddenly woke up, felt you do a really big, hard kick (and heard it on the doppler, which not only picked up your heartbeat but also the echo of all of your movements inside me) and then I felt a huge gush between my legs. My water had broken! I told your grandma (my mom) and she asked me if I was sure. I said "yes!" and she came over and lifted up my sheet and said "Oh wow, I better call for the nurse!" My nurse came running in and somehow, as if she were pulling a tablecloth out from under a bunch of plates, she changed my bedding and put some new padding underneath me, all while I was in the bed.
After that, I continued to drift in and out of sleep, but the nurse came in every 20 minutes or so to make me roll over onto my other side, to keep my blood flowing (and your blood flowing) properly. She checked me again to see how close you were to coming into the world, and said I was still only at about a 5. 5!?!?! I couldn't believe it. After all of that...a 5! I think after you heard that, you, too, wanted out immediately! When 6 a.m. rolled around, I felt something baring down on my spine. I kept telling your grandma and she kept telling me it was just you, moving lower down so you could get ready to come out. I, on the other hand, thought I needed to go to the bathroom! I said it over and over until it became an unbearable pressure, and my belly started pushing you all on its own! I remember my whole body moving as my stomach uncontrollably forced itself down. Finally, my yelling "My stomach's pushing by itself!!" got your grandma to call the nurse in. She started to check me, and the minute she lifted up my hospital gown, she said, "Oh! You're ready to have this baby!," and helped me to turn onto my back while she also called for the rest of the labor and delivery nurses and my doctor. I asked a question I had asked many times in the 2 days before you were born: "Am I going to have the baby within a few hours? Before your shift is over at noon?" and she said, "Sweetie, you're going to have a baby within about ten minutes!" I was shocked, amazed, excited, and nervous all at once, hearing those words.
They wanted me to do my pushes in a couple different positions. First, I was on my back. I was told to push each time I felt a contraction coming, and count to three each time I pushed. I pushed three times on my back, and each time they told me they could see more and more of you. Can you guess what the first comment was when you first started to come out? "She has so much hair!" It was then time for me to roll onto my left side. I pushed three times in that position while everyone was encouraging me and telling me they could see your face, and "she's almost there!" and then I was rolled back onto my back. I didn't even get to do three more pushes; one more push, and you were out, at 6:31 a.m. on November 2nd! The minute I felt the rest of your little body, your arms and legs come out, the most amazing feeling washed over me. A split second went by (but for me, it felt like an hour) before you cried. I'll never forget the first time you cried. You wailed quickly, then I heard you inhale deeply and it sounded a little gurggly, and then you cried out again and your throat and lungs sounded completely clear. I was so proud of you! You certainly had been through a lot more work than I had, working your way down and then learning how to breathe in oxygen for the first time! I did not hold you at first, something else that I now wish I had done. I still hadn't made my final decision as to whether or not I was strong enough to even see and hold you, so I declined at the moment. I knew though, deep down, the minute I heard you cry, that I absolutely had to hold you and hug you and kiss you as much as possible. They measured you (20 3/4 inches), weighed you, (8lbs, 14oz), did your APGAR test (which you scored an 8 and then a 9), put a diaper on you, wrapped you up, and then handed you to me. Holding you for the first time was indescribable. You were so warm and I was almost nervous to look at your for fear that the immense amount of love I felt for you already would triple; and it did, and then some. I couldn't believe that I made you...that you grew your little fingers and toes, your little eyebrows, even your eyelashes, inside of me. You looked just like your daddy, which melted my heart even more. You had (and at eight months, still do have) his hair, his nose, his eyes, and his eyebrows. You were a little mini version of him - the only thing you had that resembled me was your lips. Everyone commented on how your lips looked just like mine did when I was a newborn. They were a perfect little heart shape. You were stunning. I texted your birthdad and told him you were here! He said he would come up the minute he got out of work. I asked my mom to call your grandpa and he came right up to see you. Around 8 or 9 a.m., they took you to the nursery to give you your first bath. They cleaned me up and around 10, I finally got to go upstairs to my room. The nurses (who were aware of my situation) told me I should get some rest. But at about 10:15, I couldn't take it anymore, I couldn't stand the thought of the nurses caring for you during the only 48 hours that I was able to do so, so I went to see you. I opened the nursery and spotted you right away, because even though your hat was on and your back was to me, I could see your jet black hair the minute I walked in the door. I stopped in my tracks for a second and thought "is she really mine? Did we actually make her?" Crazy, I know. I took you back to my room with me for a while, until a nurse came to get you to give you a quick check up.
Your birthdad came by right after that, but was undecided himself as to whether or not he was ready to meet  you. Of course I wanted him to, because I was so in love with you and wanted so badly for him to get to see his beautiful daughter, but I didn't pressure him. We sat and talked, thought, and cried until 4 p.m. when he left and your grandma and grandpa came back up to see us. Your grandma went and got you from the nursery for me because I missed you so much. I had been away from you since about 11 that morning but was still a little too shaky to walk to the nursery by myself. I had tears running down my face and didn't want to be looked at "funny" again by all the happy moms getting their babies out of the nursery.
You spent about 2 hours or so with me, my mom, and my dad. We fed you, changed you, and just marveled at you until it was time for me to get some sleep and your grandma took you back to the nursery. Of course, I didn't sleep a wink that night. Your birthdad called me around 9 and we talked (or, actually, cried) for a while, and then I told him I had to go; I needed some time to think by myself. Morning came, November 3rd, and the adoption counselor was coming to have a quick meeting with me, to see where my head was at. I swore up and down that I would not let her see you (at this point, I still felt like she was the 'mean' one, 'taking' you from me..even though that was not the truth at all) but when she showed up with flowers in her hand and asked how you were, I couldn't help but beam with pride and want to show you off. I let her hold you and she told me how beautiful you were and how you looked exactly like your father. We talked about a few things and then she left around 11. Your birthdad came up at 11:45 and when he called me to say he was in the parking lot and on his way in, I told him you were in the room with me. I got up and opened my room door for him and you were in your little bassinet beside my bed. He came in, gave me a hug, and walked right over to you. I'll never forget the smile and joy on his face, even though I could see through it that he was hurting. He said "hey little girl, I'm your daddy!" and picked you up and rocked back and forth with you in his arms. He spent about 3 and a half hours with both of us; I fed you, I tried to burp you and I couldn't so he took you and he did it like a pro. He held you, just looking at you and talking to you, til you fell asleep. He handed you back to me, and you woke up and started crying, so we changed you. I did most of the work ;) but he did help where he could. Then, I laid down in the bed on my side with you beside me, wrapped in my arms. Your birthdad said, "be careful Liz, you're creating that bond..." but little did he know, you and I already had the most powerful bond on earth. I just held you and cried until your little hat on your head got wet. Then, your birthdad came and sat on the bed to say his "goodbyes" to you. While I was listening to him, I cried harder than I ever had in my life. He was crying, too. It was harder than hearing myself say goodbye to you.

I have to stop now. I swore I wouldn't cry as I wrote this, but now I can't even see the computer screen anymore. I'll finish tomorrow.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

I've become a green-eyed monster.


Proverbs 27:4; Wrath is cruel, anger is overwhelming, but who can stand before jealousy?

I'm genuinely not a jealous person, or at least I used to be able to say that about myself and mean it. When other girls in my high school had nicer cars or fancier bags and wallets than I did, I never felt envy towards them. I was happy with what I had because I didn't see the sense in dropping buckets of money into something that would be used for a month and then traded out for a different one - in the case of the fancy Coach bags, that is. However, lately, I have found myself more jealous than not in nine out of ten given situations. My life is good. I am lucky to have both of my loving parents still living and still together and on my side. I don't have a lot of friends, but the ones I do have, I keep very close, and that's the way I prefer it. I was never a "social butterfly." I am lucky to still be able to go to school and continue with my education, and all-in-all, when I step back and actually see the forest through the trees, I am lucky to have had a healthy, beautiful baby girl and I am even more lucky that I can trust in the fact that I will one day be a part of her life again. So why oh why am I jealous of damn near everything and everyone lately? It seems to be getting out of control, and I thought maybe if I wrote it out and got it off my chest, it might make me feel a little better. Pardon the grammar and run-on sentences that may or may not occur in the following part of my post!
Okay, here it is. All of it. I am jealous of myself in the photos I see from last November. I feel like the person in those pictures still had the chance to say "I'm backing out of this, taking my baby home with me"...even though I know that's not what I would do if I were given the chance to go back in time. It's not what my daughter needs. I am jealous of my daughter's birth father because he seems to be "moving on" from this so much faster than I am. He laughs and smiles with ease these days, and don't get me wrong - I am happy for him for that. I don't want him to hurt, no matter how badly he has hurt me in the past. I'm not vindictive towards him; believe it or not, I would hate to see him suffer. Especially over our baby. But why does he get to be so happy before I am? Don't I deserve that as much (if not more) than he does? I know he grieves differently than I do, and there have been times recently that he has gotten choked up and even cried about it. Maybe he's hiding it to protect me, because he knows I'm a big ball of emotions sitting at the top of a steep hill and I could go rolling down it at any moment if the wind blows in the wrong direction. I don't know. Either way you slice it, I'm jealous of him. I'm also jealous of him because his first daughter, his 5 year old, is still with him. Why does she get to know her biological father in a way that my daughter doesn't? I realize that he had that child with a different woman who was at a different age and place in her life than I was when I got pregnant with him, but still, I feel extremely envious towards that whole situation. I'm jealous that he still has a child that he gets to see everyday, and if not everyday, very often. I'm jealous of his older daughter's mother for the fact that she, too, found herself pregnant by him unintentionally, just like I did, but she gets to be with her daughter. I feel like that could and should be me. And, as crazy as this sounds, I've found myself jealous of his five year old daughter. Not because she gets to spend time with him and I wish I was spending time with him, but I feel jealous of her for my little girl. That one is hard to explain, so I won't even begin to. It's the most illogical feeling I could ever have, this little girl is five. She, along with my little girl, is the most innocent one in all of this (not including my daughter's a-parents). I am jealous of all my friends who have photos of their babies and talk about their babies on facebook. My automatic first thought is "why can they do it and I couldn't?," and I know that's irrational. Everyone's story and situation is different. But isn't jealousy known for being nonsensical at times? I am jealous of women I see happily married with their husbands, even though I don't want a husband or even a boyfriend at this point in time. I am jealous of pregnant women everywhere, I am jealous of everyone I see in the baby section of the store, whether they're buying things for themselves, their nieces, or cousins. I don't care, I get jealous. When I stop to think, though, what I should be is grateful. My daughter, although she isn't with me physically, is happy and healthy. I should want nothing more than that. These people that I'm jealous of...I don't know their story. The pregnant woman in the baby aisle at the store that makes me so jealous and frustrated inside could very well be a first mother herself. She could have given a baby up when she was young, too. Or this could be her 5th pregnancy, and the only one that she's made it full term with. Or it could be her miracle baby after she was told she was infertile. Who knows, I certainly don't. I try to remind myself of that when I feel like I'm about to burst. Just like with my daughter's first father - I don't know, truly, deep down, how he feels. Other than what he tells me. I know he feels guilty over the fact that one of his daughters is with him and the other is not. But how do I know that he doesn't feel guilty towards my daughter for 'giving her up' and 'keeping' his older daughter and guilty towards his older daughter that she's 'stuck' with him while his younger daughter is so much better off? I haven't been in his shoes, I haven't parented and then chosen adoption for my second child. So while I'm so busy being jealous of him, I should stop and think of that.

Writing this out has helped me because I'm seeing it now, in front of my face, in black and white. I sound like a lunatic. I'm jealous of a man who I have absolutely no reason to be jealous of, I'm jealous of pregnant women, married women, a five year old, and my friends who have babies. CRAZY! I hope admitting it really is the first step. And, skimming over my post, I can see that I've resolved some of my jealousy issues right here and now, just by talking about them to a computer screen. This proves to me that it would do me a world of good to continue talking to someone about this. As in, continue therapy...for the time being, at least. I clearly have a lot that I need to work through before I can fully move on. As fully as I can anyways. As I've said a thousand times, a piece of me will always be with my little girl wherever she goes, so therefore I will never be 100% whole again.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

90's r&b - still relevant today ;)

This song came on my pandora a few minutes ago while I was doing homework. I stopped and really listened to the words, and even though it's clearly about a boyfriend, I couldn't help but think of my little girl.

"How you changed my world you'll never know
I'm different now, you helped me grow
You came into my life sent from above
When I lost all hope you showed me love

"No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, the dreams that you wish will come true."

I'm feeling a little stressed out today. My textbook for my abnormal psych class hasn't come in the mail yet, even though I ordered it on the 7th. I desperately need it because this is a month-long summer class, so having three classes without it is like not even being in class at all. Anddd to top it off, I have a huge exam on Tuesday and a research project due. Both of which I'm unable to do without the book. I have my class notes, but the teacher said herself that what will be on the test is a lot of stuff in the book that she didn't get to cover in class. So, I need my book. I wanted to use this weekend to catch up on a lot of that kind of thing, and it would have been the perfect time to study and whatnot. Hopefully it will come Monday - then when I get home from work at 5:30 I can use the rest of the night to study, and then get up early (earlier!) for class in the morning and study again.

Enough of that, on to better things. I'm so extremely excited to get the videos of my little girl. That's all I've wanted to see since day 1 and finally they are coming my way! I don't mean to sound selfish, but I kind of wish I had gotten them sooner. I wanted to see her still in her 'baby' stage, bouncing around in her little exersaucer and stuff like that. Honestly though, I'll love and adore them whether she's 8 months old in them or 8 years old.

In other news, this week has been spent playing phone tag with my daughter's (biological) father over when he will give me the photos of him that I asked for. I don't know if I've ever mentioned this, but my mom and I want to make a book for her to look at, hopefully from time to time, that has photos of my parents (her grandma and grandpa) and photos of me from birth to present. Maybe one photo a year, or something like that. I teetered on the line of whether or not to include pictures of her dad... part of me felt like, if there are pictures of her grandparents, shouldn't there be pictures of the one that's even more closely a part of her? If there are pictures of me, shouldn't there be pictures of the other half of who she is? So I decided to include him; but not a photo every year, because I don't want to get my hopes up that he will actually even give me that many photos. Plus, he's older than me, and hates photos of himself. I wouldn't be surprised if, for the past 5 years of his life, there have been no photos taken of him (besides the 3 or 4 that I've taken). Anyways, I told him I wanted to make the book for her within the month in the hopes that he will actually get the photos to me within the month. Truthfully, I wanted to send it on or right before her first birthday as part of my gift. If I told him that, though, he wouldn't give them to me til the last week in October. Pro-cras-tin-a-tor. It scares me to realize this, but her first birthday will be here in the blink of an eye. Already she's 8 months and I can hardly believe that. Four more short months and she's 1. Unbelievable. :(

I'm off to scour the internet for as many little chunks or excerpts from my textbook that I can find, that may aid me in studying..

Wednesday, July 13, 2011


Did anyone watch the adoption special on MTV? I couldn't bring myself to do it. While I'm curious to see what's discussed and shown, I don't think I can take it right now. I put on my brave face and went to to attempt to watch it (and it wasn't even there) and on the way I came across one too many little chat boards with girls saying one of the following: "I've never even had a baby, and I'm crying," "I'm bawling my eyes out,  and I'm less than three minutes in," and "I feel so bad for these girls!" Not to mention all of the questions, like "can the birth mother and birth father get their baby back if they want it?" like he or she is a puppy. Like he or she is an it. And finally: all of the "how could ANYONE ever give THEIR baby away?" comments. That was about all I could take, and I just closed the window and put my laptop away for a while. I don't know what made me think I'd be able to handle the show if comments like that get under my skin so much. Maybe I'll dvr it for a rainy day that I feel like lying around all day in my pj's, eating ben & jerry's and not wearing mascara. If I plan on being an emotional mess all day, it's not so bad, right? ;) 

I may or may not have posted this before, I can't remember. But I adore this video and song and it's meaning.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

I made this blog back in October to see my progress. I wanted to write down my feelings when I felt them so I could always remember. So I could tell my little girl one day...maybe to help explain it to her better. I wanted to have my ups and downs right there in front of me, so I could feel better about some things when I looked back on them, but it seems like I just feel worse when I look back. I feel like I'm stuck in a rut. I'm just at a standstill. I have been this way for a few months. I remember a post I wrote on the day she turned three months old. I could not believe she was already three months old. Now, here I am, "with" an eight month old little girl. I have an eight month old. What have I done for the past eight months? Shouldn't I be feeling, as they say, "better" by now? It's like a train ride that I want to get off of, but I can't see the stops until I'm already at them. I don't know if I'll get off at a stop that will leave me stuck in some sort of depression, or I'll get off at a stop filled with hope and happiness. So I'm scared to make a move, but I'm also terrified to look ahead and see the train tracks ahead that go up and down, up and down, miles and miles of uncertain hills. That's why I've been so quiet lately. I don't have anything to say, really. I don't want to just whine all the time, who wants to see that? I don't even like to say it. That's why I don't act like anything is wrong around my family or friends. I don't want them to know that I'm really not okay, because on the outside, I am fine. No one really would understand, anyways. Any mother, anyone who has ever been pregnant or had a child knows that love you feel, whether the child was planned or not. It's so crazy, it's beyond unconditional, I feel like it's the purest form of love on earth. I have never been married nor been with a man I could see myself marrying, but I feel like even that love can't compare. It's just different, and because of that I feel like those women can at least see how much it can hurt, but yet unless you've given your baby up to a better life, you never really know how it it feels to leave the hospital, empty handed. Or, not empty handed, but with a bouquet of flowers not given with a joyous incentive, but given out of sympathy, and with a pink box filled with your daughter's hospital bracelets, hat, and receiving blanket. Or with a memory stick in a camera, holding the only memories you have of the precious time you got to spend with your baby, and knowing you'll have only those memories for years to come. Knowing when you say "see you later," that you will have just that - memories - until you meet again, and you're not sure when that will be. And everything I just said is just the tip of the iceberg of emotions I felt and still feel. It's like when you break a glass into 5 pieces and try to glue it back together, but it doesn't fit quite right because there's a teeny tiny shard missing which throws the entire shape off balance. It will never fit back together quite right because it's like a puzzle and every little piece is crucial. It's a club I never wanted to be a part of - the club of people who understand what it's like to leave a piece of your heart behind and try to pick up the pieces and move on as best as you can...the club of people who are mothers but have nothing to show for it.

That being said, I don't regret my decision because I know it was best for her. But do I wish it had been different? Of course I do...but that, too, is another conundrum...

Saturday, July 9, 2011


I'm trying to stay positive. I feel like I'm finally processing feelings that I should have dealt with months ago but didn't, because I was too scared. I knew how I felt in the hospital, I knew how I felt leaving the hospital. So when I got home, and after I had signed the papers and everything, I just....didn't want to feel any of it. I shut myself off; turned myself into a robot. That's not how I want to live my life. I don't want to never love anyone or anything again because I'm scared to get hurt the way I did by her father, or I'm scared I'll have to be apart from them, like I am with my daughter. I've learned to tune out the emotions and it's the most unhealthy way to cope with any sort of grief. I think it was too overwhelming for me. Everyone kept telling me how strong I was, how I was "better than they expected me to be," when I returned to work, etc. I wasn't. I am a good faker. Now, I need to stop. But I don't know how, because now, its eight months later. It's not so acceptable for me to melt into a blob and not want to leave the house for a week. I, in a way, had an 'excuse' before. In the few weeks after her birth and after my signing the papers, it was almost expected of me to crumble. But I held it together, I had to be strong for her, and I felt as though I needed to be strong for her father, in the areas that he wasn't. (Big mistake, by the way. I realize now that I did not need to compensate for anything he lacked.) I don't know, I just feel strange. I love getting pictures of her, but the more and more I see, I don't even feel like she's mine anymore. I know, in a way, she isn't mine. But I feel almost like I wasn't even pregnant with her, I didn't even give birth to her. It's not because she doesn't look anything like me (which she really doesn't), or because I haven't seen her in so long.... I can't really explain it, I guess. I guess you would have to be in my shoes to understand it. I just look at her and think, "what a beautiful baby." I don't feel any maternal connection right now. I used to, and it was only recently (this last set of photos) that I felt that way. Maybe it's because I'm sort of numb right now. I don't really get overly happy or overly sad; so maybe this is just a phase. Hopefully. I mean, it might be easier for me if I didn't feel that overwhelming bond towards her, but I think I'd be sad if I lost that completely. She will always be my little girl in some way, so I don't want to feel as though she's a stranger.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Joining in...

I told myself I wouldn’t jump on this Casey Anthony bandwagon. So many people don’t care about something until the worst possible outcome becomes reality, and then they all feel bad and act sad and act as if they have cared for the past three years in their entirety. Of course hearing about a two year old being murdered sparks emotion from just about anyone, myself included. But so many people are speaking up now - where were these people before, when they were trying to figure out what happened to this poor little girl? It baffles me.
I am one of those people who heard about it, felt awful about it, and then honestly forgot about it. And I have to admit, the more I do think about it, now, the angrier I get. Maybe it didn’t phase me before because I didn’t have a child. Maybe it bothers me *that* much more because I have a child who is not physically with me. It gets under my skin that I struggle every day over the fact that I had a baby and gave her up and then this woman has a baby and takes her life. Just took her life like it was nothing. Okay, so she’s “innocent.” It doesn’t matter if she goes to jail or gets the death sentence, or doesn’t. She knows what she did and her conscience will, hopefully, eat at her until she can’t take it anymore. I can’t imagine taking my own daughter’s life and then going about my own as if it were nothing. Feeling satisfied that I got away with it. Lying under oath, yada yada, the list goes on. It makes me sick. So many women every day lose their babies at absolutely no fault of their own, and this woman is blessed with a healthy child and she kills her? What is wrong with the world? I don’t understand how or why these things happen. I have felt that way about myself in the past, too. So many families want to have a baby, would give anything to have a baby. They do everything the ‘right’ way - fall in love, get married, buy a house, start trying to have a baby. Then, they can’t for whatever reason. But I did everything backwards. I (or we, not sure on that one anymore) was in love, but wasn’t married and didn’t plan to be (not to him, anyways), didn’t have my own place, and didn’t plan for / want to become pregnant. Those who don’t deserve it get it, and those who do, don’t. My daughter’s adoptive parents planned their marriage and lives around having a child that would be the center of their world. And it didn’t happen for them the way they wanted. While all the while I took my birth control diligently to prevent having a child. It’s crazy to say it now, because my daughter is the best thing that could have happened to me. The hardest, but also the best. I never knew it was possible for someone to bring you the deepest pain (not her fault, but mine entirely) and also make you feel the happiest you have ever been in your life (her fault entirely). I forget where I was going with this. I was just ranting, I guess, about how much it upsets me that (a) people act passionate all of a sudden over something they never really cared about before, (b) that someone is blessed with a beautiful baby and not only takes it for granted but takes her LIFE and walks away as if she outsmarted someone, and (c) how much I just miss my little girl…

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Back to reality...

I've had a pretty good little vacation from work. It started off pretty well on Friday afternoon (with my daughter's shoes coming) and ended pretty well today, as I spent the better part of the day working on my scrapbook. This morning I went to school (actually, both that I am enrolled in) and signed up for the second summer session that starts on Thursday. I have a lot on my plate for the rest of the summer, between two jobs and school, therapy and physical therapy (for my ankle/foot), but I think it will do me some good. I feel overwhelmed thinking about it, but I know I can do it. I'll be happy once it's over, and I won't get there unless I put myself through it now (school, that is). Sometimes I let my thoughts catch up to me and I think, "what will I do if I'm in the middle of class, or work, and a sudden and all-too-realistic thought of my daughter hits me?" Because at times, those sudden flashbacks or bouts of curiosity hit me and they can be crippling. On the other hand, though, what am I going to do? Sit around and be depressed constantly thinking about her and missing her just because I'm too scared to go out and face the real world for fear that I may suddenly be reminded of her? I don't think it's even possible for me to be "reminded" of her; she never leaves my side in my mind.

Last night we went and saw the fireworks on the esplanade. We didn't actually go to the esplanade but watched them from one of the nearby parking lots where it was much less crowded. I have always been partial to fireworks, I think they're so beautiful and always a good opportunity for a nice photo!

Okay, I've been staring at this little black vertical line flashing in my face for almost a minute and a half now, so I guess I don't have much to say tonight. Until next time! 

Monday, July 4, 2011

★ Happy Fourth of July ★

I feel like I haven't written in forever! I've had a good past few days. I ended up going to the movies Friday night, and then Saturday night I went to my friend's boyfriend's house to celebrate her birthday with a few other people. I didn't know anyone but her, and it's not like me to enjoy myself so much around people I don't 'know,' but all in all I had a good evening. And my baby girl turned 8 months that same day, so I was a little off, anyways. But I'm getting off track! The point of writing about being at the birthday celebration/cookout is that around 11:30ish, I saw the little email icon at the top of my phone. I try not to get too excited when I see it, because although I do have an email account pretty much designated for emails about my daughter, my car insurance updates and bank notifications get sent to that email also. So my heart skips a beat (almost literally) every time I see it, and then it's never from her. But this time when I looked, it was from her, with the subject line: "Pictures :)" (!!!!!!!!) I didn't want to look at them on my phone screen for the obvious reason that they are squished into a 4 x 3 window. The party was thinning out anyways so I said I was going to go and waited for hours for some guys to move their trucks which were blocking my car in. In reality, I must have only waited two minutes, but it felt like hours.

Finally I got to my laptop and she sent me SO many photos. She had to send them grouped together as a pdf file - that's how many there were. In it, she included my little girl's first day at the beach, first time standing in the water, and first carousel ride. She has an ear-to-ear grin on in the ones where she's on the carousel, she wasn't scared at all! I marveled at the photos for probably an hour, then emailed her back, thanking her and telling her my favorites. She wrote back, and sent a couple more with her reply. Em must have been napping, because we exchanged 5 or 6 emails back and forth within about two hours. I woke up yesterday morning to yet another from her, with one more picture. I wrote back in the afternoon, and then last night she sent me another, with the subject line: "You're going to love this" and.....I loved it! It was a photo of my little girl in her '3rd of July' outfit with the sneakers on! Oh my goodness, I can't tell you how happy it made me. I have been ecstatic since then. Fast forward from last night to this morning - I wake up to the email icon again. Another picture, closer up, of her in her patriotic outfit. I am over the moon right now, but for some reason not as happy as I feel I should be about this. Still very very happy - but something's still missing, and I can't figure out what exactly it is. Every single day for the past  8 months I've checked my email in anticipation, and now here I am getting an average of 3 emails a day from her since Saturday, and don't get me wrong, I love it, but I'm still kind of "meh." Maybe it's because I wish I were with her on this beautiful day? Who knows. I'm not gonna let it get me down, though, I know that for sure.

Onto better things - a few of the pictures! I narrowed it down to (mostly) only the holiday-specific ones. Coincidentally, I just glanced at my phone as I was writing this and there's another picture which she says was just taken hours ago!! I rescind my comment about feeling "iffy" and remind you that I have been ecstatic since email #1. How can I even complain today? :)

Happy Fourth!

And lastly: my patriotic nails (I'm corny, I know.)

Friday, July 1, 2011


Her shoes came :) I definitely cried when I opened the box. I lied - I cried the minute I saw the box. I'm used to the big long thin boxes my chuck taylor's came in...this box was, literally, about 7 inches long and 5 inches wide. I wanted to keep the box and mail them in something else, but I was just acting way too sentimental. Eventually, a shoebox would wind up getting thrown out or damaged somehow - and I can't keep the packaging of everything I get for her over the years. It was hard for me, but to anyone else, it's "just a box."
These things fit in the palm of my hand, practically. I love them so would make my MONTH if she sent a photo of her wearing them. Absolutely make my month. I don't care about how much they cost, or how much the overnight shipping cost, or'll be worth it to see her wearing them. I know, I know, I know I keep saying it, but I feel as though this worked out as best as it possibly could, given the situation. Given the fact that I miss her and want to be near her with every fiber in my body and can't be, I am so blessed to be close enough / to have her parents be open enough to let me send things directly to her, whenever and for whatever I want.
In sum: today, I have this odd excited feeling inside about all of this. :)


Is it really July already? Is my little girl really going to be 8 months old tomorrow? 8 months?? That's so much closer to a year than I'd like it to be. I love seeing how she's growing and changing, but seriously, where has the time gone? I think her 9 month birthday will be one of the hardest so far...because somewhere in between the nine month and the ten month birthdays is the little check point that tells me she's been with her adoptive mom and dad longer than she was with me in my belly. I feel like that will make it, to me, seem like she's all the more theirs rather than mine. Which, she is. She is both, I know this. But...still.
She's already in 18 month clothes. My big girl :) Her sneakers haven't come in the mail yet but they should get here sometime today. I got her a pair of red and blue hair clips also, with big flowers on them. I can't wait to see how adorable she looks. I know I am so blessed to get photos as frequently as I has been what's gotten me through this. I feel as if I was so crazy in the beginning, to think that I wanted no contact and no photos because it would be too hard. But now that I've had time to look back and reflect on these first few months, I see that I would be nowhere without those photos. I couldn't survive wondering what she looked like, who she looked like, how big she was, what her smile looked like... I could go on and on, you get the idea.
I don't really have much to say so far today. Time is, as I said, flying by, but also managing to d r a g at the same time..