Everything's different. . . . or is it?

I wrote this in my first journal, on 11/08/10: "going to go get her. i need to go get her, right now. i need to find a car seat, and a crib, and a changing table. diapers. then i can bring her home."

(What I really needed to find: a finished education, a stable career, steady income, and a father worthy of calling himself her daddy)

So much has changed in the past year. Or has it? Sometimes I wish I could be that girl again; I wish I could trade places with my former self, the one who was sitting in front of this very same laptop one year ago, facing the inevitable and avoiding writing her signature on a piece of paper for fear of the impending certain heartbreak that was sure to follow. That girl still had a choice. That girl could still get in the car and, if nothing else, at least visit her daughter at her will. I'm not saying I regret my choice to choose a family for my daughter, because deep down, I don't regret it. I have days where I miss her so much that my whole body hurts and I would give anything to be able to hold her again, but that doesn't mean I regret it. I feel as though a lot of people get that mixed up or simply can't understand it, but I have to forgive that because these are people who haven't been through it. At times, when I'm just rambling on, I get looks that might as well be screaming "why'd you do it if you miss her so much, or wanted to be with her so badly?" Well, my friends, it's not as simple as that. I knew my heart would be crushed to pieces and stomped on, I knew I'd always have a hole in my heart from the day I signed forward, and I knew I'd always miss her and wonder about her. It hurts, it stings, it downright kills. But it's a small price to pay in return for having my daughter be not only safe, loved, and happy, but secure and in the family structure that she deserves. My only hope and prayer is that one day she understands my reasoning, too. I hope she will.

Then again, there are days where I'm glad to be out of that "in between" stage that I foolishly put myself in. I'm glad I realized what I needed to do for her, and did it. I didn't like the idea of her being with an agency-appointed 'foster mom' for the six days she was there. I wanted her to (and knew she had to) be bonding with her mother (be it myself or C). November 4th to the 10th were the hardest few days of my life. It's so hard to know what you need to do, but also know that it will be tremendously painful. Looking back, I feel selfish that I took that long to make my final decision. It's like I was putting off the pain. I can't change it now, but at times, I wish I had just signed on the last day in the hospital. I took a week away from my daughter and her adoptive parents, and I caused myself more pain in the end. I should have rolled it all into one day, rather than spread it over a week. But it's in the past now, and part of me is glad that that tiny little chapter is over. I know I did the right thing. I just miss her so much. I'm jealous of the 'old me' that just decided, on the night of the 9th, to just get in the car and go see her. Hold her, hug her, change her diaper, kiss her. I'm also glad that a few minutes after I signed, even though all of my parental authority was officially gone, I asked if I could be there the next night when they went to pick her up and take her home. I'm even more glad I was greeted with an excited 'YES!' from her adoptive mom.

I'm not sure where I was going with this post, nor am I sure if it even makes any sense. (I also apologize for any horrendous grammatical errors).

One last thing . . . please pray for my family. Aside from the toll the adoption has taken not only on myself but on my parents, as well, they both are dealing with some tough stuff individually. If you have an extra minute, my grandpa needs all the prayers he can get as well. Thank you.