Blessings in Disguise

Dependents: 0

2012-02-28T17:18:00.001-05:00

It's that time of year again...tax time. I actually already got my taxes filed and returned to me, but it wasn't filling them out that bothered me, it was reviewing my tax return itself. I looked over the highlighted lines and the one that says "Dependents . . . . ____" along with my photocopied "0" stuck out like a sore thumb. I don't know if that will ever not sting a little. Even when and if I have another child, I'll be writing "1" where I feel I should be writing "2," and so on and so on. I know I don't have any 'dependents,' obviously, I know this. But I did have a 'dependent' for two days in the hospital, as well as for nine months in my belly. So any time I have to write down a "0," a "none," or a "no" when filling out any type of form or even some job applications, it sucks. Plain and simple - it just sucks. I went to a new doctor a couple of months ago and I had to fill out the usual form about my medical history and next to pregnancies I wrote "1," next to live births I wrote "1," and next to people in my household, I wrote "3." I then went on to say that it was me, my mother, and my father - which was a guaranteed set up for an awkward situation when the doctor overlooks that and asks "how's the baby?"
I guess it's going to take a long time for me to get used to thinking of myself as a mother from my heart and soul's point of view, but being a single 23 year old with no children in society's point of view (if it ever happens at all).

The More Things Change, the More They Stay the Same

2012-02-06T19:00:00.000-05:00

Wow, it's been a while.

I apologize if this is repetitive, scattered, or nonsensical at certain points. I didn't proofread it or even skim over it after I stopped typing. I felt like I was in a creative writing class where they say "start writing - NOW" and when the time is up, pencils are down, and what you wrote is what you wrote and you can't change it.

Truth be told, I've been putting off writing because I felt as though this post could get very negative, very quick. I suppose I should rewind about a month or so - back to Christmas. I wished Arianna's family a Merry Christmas via Facebook and she wrote back the next day thanking me and telling me that she hoped we had a great holiday as well. She also said that she would send photos as soon as they got back from visiting family in New York, and I wrote back that I couldn't wait and was happy that the kids had a great holiday. Now, fast forward about a week or so (or however long January 3rd is from then), I received an email from her telling me that she was almost finished organizing all of the photos from the holidays and she promised to send them soon. Sounds all well and good, right? Well, she then said she wanted to give me the 'heads up' about something.

When A's birthdad sent her her Christmas present from him, he signed the card 'your loving father, _____.' This offended the aparents, and she said she just wanted to let me know that along with her thank you card and photos that she was going to send him, she was also going to include a letter asking him not to refer to himself that way anymore. My first feeling was anger - not at C but at A's birthdad. I couldn't understand where he got off calling himself that...where he had the audacity (this being the FIRST thing he has ever sent to her, the first interaction he has had with her family since signing the papers) to call himself "her loving father." I wrote back to her, apologizing on his behalf and she wrote back explaining that that is a term she would rather reserve for her dad who raises her each day. I wholeheartedly agreed with her, and she in turn told me that I am kind and wise beyond my years (what a compliment!). She told me she was going to put a 'gentle' letter in the mail for him, and just wanted to be sure that I would assure him that he is more than welcome to send gifts and letters in the future, and that this is just a teeny little bump that they want to discuss with him and then we can all move on. I've mentioned to her before that he and I don't talk - but I've also mentioned that I share my photos with him (via email), so she probably just thought she was covering all of her bases by letting me know. I appreciated her letting me know, but at the same time, I wish I had never become involved in it.

A week or so after that, I got a phone call from G and he was livid. He had gotten the letter and was about to go through the roof. He asked me if I wouldn't mind meeting up with him to talk about it, because he knew he was being irrational and wanted to talk with someone. Against my better judgement, I went and met up with him. It was actually one of the better meetings we've had in the past year (+), and part of me actually truly felt for him. He was upset, and I can honestly see both sides. I agree with her aparents for saying that they deserve the term 'loving father,' but I also see where G is coming from, too. While I myself could not fathom signing a card 'your loving mother,' I do know that he is dealing with this a lot differently. No excuse, I know. But he told me he signed the card that way because he still is her father in a way, and he loves her. I have to state the obvious: adoption would be a thousand times simpler without the titles, terms, and names. I will always think of her as my child, and I don't think of myself as her mother or her birthmother. When it comes to her, I'm Elizabeth - plain and simple, just like he is G. His argument was that the aparents are just being insecure about their titles, and that if 'our daughter' gets sick and needs a kidney, they will ask who the 'mother and father' are, and that's 'me and him.'

I would be lying if I said I didn't see his point. I would also be lying if I said I didn't see their point, as well. Part of me feels for him...I really do. He can be an asshole, a jerk, self-centered, and all of the above, but I know he didn't mean to offend them. I told him that I strongly think he would write back to them, because while he's not ready for a relationship to develop between him and them, the adult thing to do is to acknowledge that he received the letter and share his thoughts. He asked me to proofread it when the time comes, because he and I both know his temper is off the charts. I told him that he should try and let them know that their letter upset him but also maintain a very high level of respect, as they are doing a damn good job raising our/their little girl.

The one part of the letter that got to me was the part where she said 'mother and father are reserved for us, as we raise her every day. We are proud of our earned titles.' After reading that part, I honestly couldn't blame him for being a little put off by it. He and I both know that they earned the titles of mom and dad and we respect that (well, I can only speak for myself, and I know that I do), and we thank them for doing an amazing job at what we couldn't do. But to stress it in the way that it was stressed in the letter was a bit of a slap in the face. I've never felt angry with them, though, and don't want to start now. I'm terrified to admit that I might feel even a little anger towards them. I can't put my finger on why, other than the fact that I truly never have before. Maybe I have rose-colored glasses on. I really don't know.

All in all, that's really all that's gone on in the past month or so. He and I talked it over a couple of times and he has promised to let me proofread his letter before he sends it, and that's all I can ask for. I'm glad that he is stepping up and communicating with them, rather than acting pissed off and childish and just letting it slide when he's upset.

I'm still waiting on pictures. I'm getting a little antsy over it, but I'm really trying hard to keep myself under control (emotionally). I want to see pictures of her so badly it's not even fathomable. I think I may send her a short, friendly email tonight and just say that I know she is busy but that I am really looking forward to those photos whenever she gets a chance to send them. It has been 6 weeks since she promised them. That's a long time. I'll let her know that I appreciate any little thing she sends my way, too, so I don't come off as demanding in the email.

I hope to start writing more, I really do. It really has become an outlet for me because talking to friends who aren't in my shoes is pretty tough most of the time. People try, and I appreciate it, but it's hard to talk about how I feel with someone who can't begin to imagine. I assume it's easy to think you know how I 'must' feel, but it's really something you don't get until you've lived it. And while my adoption has many, many positive aspects to it, this is a life I wouldn't wish on any of my friends (that's just me being completely honest).

What Keeps Me Smiling

2012-01-18T19:46:00.001-05:00

This is what keeps me smiling throughout the day at work...looking to my left and seeing this little angel.

Writer's Block

2012-01-16T16:39:00.000-05:00

I've had serious writers block lately. It's funny, because I've had the most to talk about in the past month or so and I've only posted 2 or 3 times. Maybe I have so much to say that I don't know where to start, I don't know. I do know, though, as soon as I get in the mood to write, I will. I write not only as an outlet to relieve stress or built-up emotions, but also as a way to remember when I start to forget. That's why I wrote down A's birth story - I never want to forget a second of it. I still remember it like it was yesterday, but I know in time that memory will fade a little. I'm happy I have it written down not only for myself, but for her as well.

She is doing so well. She's so tall and looks like a little mini grown-up. Her hair is ever growing and growing and I wish so badly that I could do her hair in pretty bows and headbands and whatnot...

I had my appointment with my OB/GYN to get my Mirena removed today. I don't know if I've talked about that on here or not, but I have gained a considerable amount of weight since last Spring (when I had lost the 'baby weight') and after researching online, I finally put two and two together and realized that I gained all of that weight within a few months of getting the Mirena. I was told it wasn't a common side effect, but should have known that if it would happen, it would happen to me (I don't have good luck with birth control). My doctor told me today that it can be a side effect and that she could surmise from looking at my weight chart that that was probably the culprit. She also told me that it can not only cause a woman to gain weight, but it can also hinder you from losing it. So, I weighed the options and had it removed. She told me that there's a good possibility that I could see the weight just fly off with little to no diet changes or exercise changes. So that lifted my spirits, as you can imagine. And the best news: I've lost 8 pounds since giving up soda on Christmas day. I will have one glass if I go out to dinner (which has only been twice since then) but I won't get a refill, and I've completely stopped drinking mountain dew cold turkey. I had to. I was drinking a disgusting amount a day, and there was always a 2 liter (or 2 or 3) in the house at all times. I haven't touched it since the 25th of December and I feel like I am finally in control of it.

To anyone who has never had a 'comfort food' or 'comfort drink,' this all may seem really silly. But it was a pretty high mountain to climb for me. I drank it because I thought it made me happy...then I would look in the mirror and hate the way I looked, so I would turn to food/soda again to make me get back that 'happy' feeling. It finally hit me one day that whether or not I drink soda, my daughter still has a different mommy. Her birth father still is...her birth father (enough said). Those problems, issues, and relationships don't change because I've temporarily satisfied a little hole somewhere inside me...because nothing ever can or will fill those holes. I just have to learn to live with them, since they will forever be a part of me now. I'd rather have those empty spaces and feel good about myself and be healthy than have those empty spaces and a bottle of soda in my hand...

I'll write about something of substance soon! I'm still waiting on pictures of my little one...fingers crossed that they will come tonight!

A Happy(ish) New Year, Indeed

2012-01-10T19:25:00.036-05:00

BIG NEWS....I got a job! Full time, weekdays only, and a considerable pay increase from my per-diem job at the veterinary hospital. Today was only my second day, but I love it so far. It's for the global corporate office of a huge coffee chain that's spread across the world. (You all probably know where I'm talking about, but I don't want to write it out because I don't want Google to link this post to the company).The atmosphere is great and so far everyone I've met has been friendly - and for the most part, they're people my age (something I'm not totally used to at work)!

School starts up again in about a week and a half so I have a positive outlook on that, too. I'm only taking two classes this semester so I'm going to enroll in a night class and an online class (or maybe two online classes instead) because I can't take morning classes with my new work schedule.

So, all is well. Or, all was well, til I went grocery shopping with my dad...and guess what made me cry? These:

I don't know what got into me, but I had a definite loss of control. This is the first type of food that my little girl was able to feed herself and when we Skyped for her birthday, she was clapping her hands and grabbing the bottle of these, waving it around in her teeny hand, putting it back down with such concentration, clapping her hands again, and picking it up again. Over and over. Picking them up out of her mom's hand with her little thumb and pointer finger and eating them with a huge grin on her face.

I just miss her, so much...

Right Around the Corner

2012-01-05T16:25:00.001-05:00

So, it's been a few days. I did have a conversation with my daughter's mom that I have a feeling I may want to reflect on soon...but not right now. And that photo, of course, is from this past Christmas day :)

I had to go in town today for an interview at a recruiting agency, which happened to be across the street from the adoption agency A's birthdad and I went through. Like, directly across from it, as in, I had to stare at it during the entire time I was waiting for the woman who was interviewing me. I wondered if I should go in and say hello to the counselor, maybe show her an updated picture or two (since her family and I contact one another directly with full disclosure, nothing goes through the agency), but I didn't know if I would crack. The last time I was in that agency was October 30th, 2010, and I was 9 months pregnant, and G and I were meeting her potential family for the very first time. Last time I set foot in there, he was by my side and I was waddling off the elevator.

Fast forward to my interview being over, and me turning on my tunnel vision and crossing the street and walking through the doors. I went up to the sixth floor, down the hall to the door, and knocked. No one was there. It makes sense, I suppose, if she has no prospective birthparents, she doesn't sit around the office when she can make phone calls from home. I suppose it was a blessing, because I handled being in the building pretty well, but who knows what would have happened if I laid eyes on that tan couch and fake plant which was meant to bring a sense of serenity to those of us who were sitting there in tears. Or if I saw the generic toys in the corner that A's big brother played with during our meeting, while she was still somersaulting in my belly. Who knows?

I left, walked back to the stop that my public transportation came to, and was sort of lost in my own head. Replaying that October over and over in my head. Consequently, I got on the wrong train (right direction, yet still, the wrong train) and freaked out a little. I've lived here my whole life, but never really relied on public transportation and therefore I get confused (as well as freaked out) easily. I got off at a stop that sounded familiar to me, and despite the fact that I studied the map up and down, I couldn't figure out how to switch trains and get back to where I needed to be. So I called my dad, who knows this entire state practically like the back of his hand, since he owns his own business and works wherever work takes him. I was nearly in tears until he asked me where I was, and when I told him (and threw in that I was getting a little scared, because it was a town with a disturbing crime rate), he said, "okay, don't be scared. You're right around the corner from me."

I could have cried right then and there, because of how safe I suddenly felt. He couldn't see me, nor could I see him, but knowing he was only 2 minutes away calmed me down like you wouldn't believe. I felt like a little kid again...you know that feeling when your dad's the one driving and you feel invincible? You know there are millions of car accidents a day, but when dad's driving, you're in a car with an invincible shield on it.

It's exactly what I wanted (and got) for my little girl....a dad who is always right around the corner.

Under Major Construction

2012-01-01T23:44:00.000-05:00

As you can all see, my blog is currently a MESS. I am messing with the template and I have an idea in my head, but can't quite execute it correctly. Hence why my entire blog is focused towards the left, and there is writing over the picture of my little girl's eyes.

Please excuse me and my HTML confusion!

Bye Bye, 2011.

2011-12-31T22:38:00.001-05:00

Good riddance! I'd say it was nice knowing ya, but really, it wasn't all that grand.

Okay, so my baby girl did turn one this year, we got to Skype with her, and I did cut off 99.8% of communication with her birthdad, so those are two things to celebrate.

The rest of it, though...the quitting of my job due to the stress, the gaining weight (also due to stress), my mom being sick and needing surgery, as well as a handful of other smaller things...can kiss my butt. I'll be happy to never look back on those things!

2011-12-30T12:39:00.001-05:00

I want to make 2012 my year. I never make new years resolutions, because if you want to vow to do or change something about yourself, you can and should do that any day of the year. Maybe it's coincidental that all of my recent revelations have come about at the end of the year, I don't know. But I've realized a few things over the past few days, and it overwhelms me to even think about some of these things, but if I run from what's right in front of me, I'll never get anywhere. I've been sick with some gross bug since Tuesday night, so I've had all the time in the world to lie in my bed and sleep. Sleep off and on, that is. When sleep is "off," my mind is on, and that's when the wheels start turning. There was nothing to distract me from my thoughts for the past few days, however.

Realization #1: I am, and have been, in total control of any weight loss that I want to tackle. I found myself googling whether or not the HcG diet works (evidently, it doesn't), and calculating the cost of diet programs in the area. Then, I realized something - it's not as if I eat healthy, exercise, drink plenty of water and still can't lose weight. I've yet to even dedicate myself to trying those things. I don't need to join a dieting program or anything like that, what I need to do starts from home and is free. In fact, it will end up costing me less than I already spend on food and drinks now. My issue is this: soda. The calories in liquid pile on a million times faster than the calories in food because you don't even realize how much you are consuming. I don't even eat a lot throughout the day, and when I do, I have generally small meals. I do, however, drink at least a half of a 2-liter of mountain dew every day. HELLO!? If I could gain the self-control I needed to stop that, I probably wouldn't even need to change any eating habits, and I could simply incorporate 20 minutes to a half hour of walking into my day every day and I would see results. No personal trainer necessary. This is a no-brainer. But this leads me to another realization of mine: I am definitely an emotional eater. Yes, I've become one of the girls who sit at the 'girls who eat their feelings' table in Mean Girls - the table no girl ever wants to have to sit at. Actually, I've sat at a lot of hypothetical tables that I never thought I would be found sitting at in the past couple of years. Anyway, I used to be the exact opposite of what I am now, when it comes to my emotions and eating. For the first 22 years of my life, when I got upset, I refused to eat. Maybe even for days. My first memory of this happening was in the third grade, when I came home from school to find out that one of my rabbits had died. After I cried for an hour or two, my mom made spaghetti for dinner and put a plate in front of me. The smell of the food (which was my favorite dinner) made me feel nauseous and the thought of eating it, when my rabbit was dead and could never eat again overwhelmed me with guilt (oh, the logistics of a nine-year-old). I can also remember, over the years, when I'd have an argument with my mother, I wouldn't want to come out of my room and eat. This intensified a thousand-fold during my relationship with G. Whenever I had that gut feeling that he was lying to me about something or he was keeping something from me, the thought of food repulsed me. Whenever we would fight, I would come home, go right to bed, and even if I hadn't eaten at all that entire day, my stomach wouldn't even feel hungry. It was like I zoned in on feeling upset and could concentrate on nothing but that until that sick feeling I had in the pit of my stomach passed. I did this every. single. time. we had an argument. Which, for a year and a half, we had none. After that, we had a few. Maybe once every couple of months. Then once every couple of weeks. Then once a week, then a few times a week. It wasn't healthy (not only for my body but my mind), but what I do now isn't either. Ever since the adoption, I've put on more weight than I ever have in my life. I weigh more now than I did when I was pregnant, and mind you - I lost nearly 40lbs between having my daughter and then having my gallbladder surgery. So I've gained that back, and then some. I've created the most vicious of cycles - I feel sad (for obvious reasons), I feel lonely (for even more obvious reasons) and I'm bored, so I eat. It makes me feel better for the five minutes that I have a bowl of ice cream in front of me. Then, I look in the mirror or just plain feel uncomfortable in my own skin, and get upset with myself all over again for eating. So, to cure that feeling of sadness that I just created for myself all over again, I eat again. I'm not even hungry! I do this to myself. I know it, because when I'm at work, or out with friends, or just plain busy in any way, I don't even think about food. I honestly don't.
I don't know where I'll go from here, but at least I've recognized and admitted what I'm doing wrong and what I need to do to fix it. I know I would drop the weight like magic if I stopped drinking so much soda and iced tea. I have to somehow commit to drinking only water for a long time. I don't even dislike water; but why would I choose water when I could have something that makes me feel 'happy?' I put the word happy in quotes because I know it's purely psychological. I tell myself that food makes me happy so I can fill a void, but in reality, it doesn't do anything but make me feel worse and the void is still there afterwards. Food will not replace my child, no matter how hard I try to make it happen. My child will still be with her family, and the only change will be in the size of my jeans.

Realization #2: I was begging, begging, BEGGING for a dog for Christmas. Not even necessarily a puppy, even a one or two year old dog from a rescue shelter would be nice. Actually, that would have been even better. I've heard it said that those dogs appreciate you more and you can just tell that they adore you, even more than a puppy you've raised, because they sense that you have 'saved' them. I believe it. Anyway, for the longest time, I've wanted a blue-nose American Staffordshire Terrier. Maybe my fascination with them occurred after watching Pit Boss for months on end, I don't know, but nevertheless, I was dying for one. Working in a veterinary hospital, I know the work required to care for a dog. I know the time, dedication, and love it takes to care for a dog, and while I know it's not the same, I've realized that it's similar to the dedication, time, and commitment it takes to raise a child properly. Again, I know it's different. We're talking about the quality of life of a canine versus the quality of life, finances, education and family for a human being. But what it comes down to is this: I realized that I wanted something to take care of. I wanted something that would depend on me, and only me, to feed it, walk it, and spend time with it. I needed something to project all of these pent up motherly instincts I've held inside me for the past year and two months, since my little girl was born. I can't fill that void with a dog. In fact, it would only make it worse, I'm sure. I would probably treat my dog like royalty because of this strong need I seem to have to bond with something that will love me back and need me, but at the end of the day, a cute little four-legged creature who relies on me is not the same as my beautiful, two-legged daughter who does not rely on me, and thus will not make me feel any happier. I still want a dog, don't get me wrong. But I want to wait until it's the right time. I want to get a dog purely because I want the dog, not because there's some underlying need to nurture anything that needs nurturing just because I have an overload of it in my system right now.

Realization #3: This one is sort of the bow on the box that I've wrapped those last two realizations up in. This wasn't some shocking idea that came into my head or anything like that, rather it was something I've known all along. My daughter deserves the world, she deserves the best of the best, and I wouldn't stand for her having any less. The reason I am writing this one down is because, while I obviously knew that, or I wouldn't have placed, I seem to forget it during my moments of selfishness and jealousy and regret. I don't regret the adoption. Not even for one second. But saying that doesn't mean I've picked up the pieces of my life and moved on and I am happy as can be. One big thing that 'outsiders' (people who have never placed, or people who are not involved in the adoption world in any way) don't seem to realize is that being a birth mom is like riding on the world's biggest, fastest, scariest roller coaster ride that exists. Think of the scariest ride at Six Flags, and magnify it 99 times. That's the ride I'm on right now. It's contradictory in every way possible.
Yes, I go out with my friends and I laugh and I have a genuinely good time, but that doesn't mean I'm "over it." Inside, do I feel guilty that I am not at home, caring for my child, changing her diaper and feeding her? Yes. But that doesn't mean I "regret it." This is impossible to explain. I feel like all I do is confuse people. Sometimes I think that if I could see peoples thoughts across a board the way you see the airplane takeoff and landing times at an airport, I would see 'why is she so moody and upset today, she was fine and laughing all night last night,' or 'why has she been so quiet...it's been a year...it can't still be her baby making her feel sad, can it?,' or 'wow, she's happy for someone who doesn't raise her child.'
I've worn many masks over the past year, and that's not to say I'm proud of it. I don't know what else to do. I can't talk directly about the adoption without breaking down into tears. If someone asks, I can somehow turn my emotions off like a robot and answer with a few words, but that's it. As soon as I open my mouth to say anything else, it's as if the floodgates open and I have to use all the strength I've got to keep the tears behind my eyeballs rather than pouring out from under them. Then there are times where I'm beaming with pride over her and want to acknowledge her and talk about her and show my friends photos of her.
When I'm alone, I force myself to process these thoughts and feelings, but I can't. I can't even cry. Like I said, I don't regret the adoption. But lately I have felt so downright angry about it that I've become immune to it. I'm not angry at her parents, not angry at my parents, not angry at myself or even G - just angry at the idea of the entire situation. Angry that I don't get to decide what my daughter wears for the day, or where she goes or who she spends time with. Angry that I don't get to take pictures of her whenever I want and send them to my friends who don't live locally. That's why I need to remind myself of the fact that she is happy, loved, well-taken care of, and has everything I wanted her to have and then some. When I feel angry, the happiness can't help but crack through the surface when I think of how happy she is. How can I be constantly sad or constantly bitter and angry when there's a little life, a little part of me living and breathing out there and she is happy?

I know I confuse people with my emotions. But guess what! I confuse myself, too. I've been confused since I found out I was pregnant, and it's only gotten worse since then. So please, bear with me. This robot version of me, who finds happiness in next to nothing other than thinking about my child, is not really who I am. I will find happiness in the things I used to again, it will just take time. Right now, I can barely see a shadow cast from the light at the end of this tunnel, let alone the light itself, but I trust that it's there. Everyone grieves differently and at their own pace, and I am only just beginning my journey. Grief and I will develop a very familial relationship before I'm done with it, I think.

A Time and a Place

2011-12-26T20:52:00.001-05:00

So, the holidays are almost over, and I've made it through the toughest part. The holiday spirit is still in the air and usually is until New Years Eve, which is nice. I had hoped to make 2011 my "fresh start," after ridding myself of G (for the most part) and trying to start over for myself and my daughter, but it didn't work out quite as I had expected. I've never been one to make corny new years resolutions (or any at all, for that matter), but what better time than now to try and start over? I want to lose weight (at least back to the weight I was at last Christmas, and even then some), further my education and find a steady job that will pay the bills. I realize that I have to put in 99% of the work myself to get these things to happen, and finally, I've had the wake-up call that I need to actually put these things into action.

Christmas was tense yesterday. There were tears in my eyes when I woke up and they were hiding right under the surface for the rest of the day. I tried to simply think of it as another day, not as one of the happiest days of the year. My parents told me this is what it means to 'be an adult. it starts to feel less and less like Christmas each year that you get older,' but I know it was so much more than that. Knowing that she is now old enough to open her own gifts, with help, and play with them and be excited on Christmas morning, while also knowing that I'm missing all of that, was really hard. Next year, she'll be 2 - even harder. I tried to comfort myself by telling myself that her parents must be so, so, so excited on Christmas, watching their two children playing with their gifts and smiling for pictures by the tree, but it really didn't help. Call me selfish, but it actually just made me jealous, which made me feel worse. I even let a pretty nasty thought cross my mind...I was checking, hoping, and checking some more for an email throughout the day, with even just one picture of my little girl or a note about how much she liked my gifts to her. Every time I checked...nothing. So I started to think about how they must be busy, they must be doing family Christmas things and watching their children open gifts. That's when I thought - my sacrifice is the reason they are so busy. My child is the one they are watching play with her gifts, can't they at least send me a quick text? Email? Anything? This holiday is all about family, and the most important part of my family is missing because she is now their family.

Then I snapped out of it and realized how childish and selfish I was being. It's one day out of the year! They deserve the happiness they shared with our daughter (mine & theirs) on Christmas because they are raising her and loving her and being the mom and dad that G and I couldn't be. They are there with her through the not-so-pleasant times (expenses, times she's up all night, or sick, etc.), so they deserve every second they get to spend with her, especially the ones when she is awake, laughing, and talking to them. It was that thought, though, that made me cry. It was my crying that led my mother tell me that "there is a time and a place, and this is not the time nor the place." REALLY? There is a time and a place to miss your child? There is a time and a place to cry over the fact your entire family is together, minus part of your own flesh and blood? Huh.

Don't get me wrong - I love my mom and she did her best to make this Christmas special for me. She made me laugh when I was about to cry, and put a lot of thought into my gifts and I will always appreciate that. But, really? A time and a place. I know how much she loves kids. I know she wishes more than anything that her granddaughter were here to celebrate with us and make a mess of all the wrapping paper. But she's not, and my mother played a bigger part in that decision than I've ever discussed on here (maybe I will someday). And no matter how you slice it, it's not the same. Parting with a grandchild is not the same as parting with a child. Not, not, not. So I get unreasonably angry when she tries to liken her loss to mine. I know she's sad, I know it hurts, I know it just flat-out sucks. But don't compare it, because it's not the same.

Merry 2nd Christmas to my baby girl!

2011-12-25T07:48:00.002-05:00

Ahhh...I'll be doing my best today.

My four-legged Christmas Cards :)

2011-12-18T17:05:00.001-05:00

The outfits . . .

I did this today, just for fun (oh, the benefits of finals being over and not having a full-time job!). Hahaha. I'm pretty happy with the way they came out, especially since I just used my Sony point-and-shoot and only lightly edited a few of them. I have a Canon eos 5d - which I'm ashamed to admit, is collecting dust as we speak - that I may take out tomorrow or the next day and try to get some sharper images. I've learned one thing, though - I could never be a pet photographer. There were some choice words strewn about my room this afternoon when this or that little thing would mange to ruin 78% of my pictures. Hahaha.

I can't help but wish that I was able to take photos of my little girl in her Christmas outfit, or even take her to Sears or Toys 'R Us and have them take professional pictures of her for me. Everyone (and I mean everyone)'s Facebook pictures consist of professional pictures of their kids sitting beside the Christmas tree or sitting in a pile of fake glittery snow. I'm trying not to let these things turn me into a holiday Grinch, but it's a fight I seem to be losing.

In a Rut

2011-12-17T13:06:00.003-05:00

I know I have been MIA lately. I've been crazy between studying for finals and my job search, and I haven't really had much to write about. I wouldn't call it a 'writer's block,' though...more like 'writer's repetition.' I sound like a broken record in my head sometimes, I really do. I have a feeling I'll be in this rut til after the holidays. This month has been really hard so far, and I think it may get worse before it gets better. So, on a happier note, Arianna's and her adoptive brother's gifts are wrapped, packed, and ready to be brought to the post office first thing Monday morning along with my card for her and her parents!

(I know, the quality is awful, I took this with my phone)

A Piece of Me

2011-12-11T11:33:00.032-05:00

My gifts are all wrapped and ready to go for Miss Arianna. Why it makes me so sad to mail them off, I'll never know. There are obvious reasons, like the fact that I'd like to see her open them with my own eyes, smile at them with my own eyes, and play with them with my own eyes. But I think it has to be more than that; because I've come to accept that as well as I can. I guess it just makes me feel like I'm sending another teeny part of myself to her in the form of her gifts, what I chose for her. That's hard, because I've already sent the biggest part of me to her that I possibly could. Figuratively speaking, my heart was born when she was, and it left my body inside of her and will be with her forever. That's not to say I'll never love anyone else ever again, or love any of my future children (if any) any less, but... I guess I lost track of where I was going with that!

I just re-read that and it sounds so foolish. They're children's toys, how on earth does that represent any part of me? Ah well, I've just been so confused lately. It's why I haven't written much. I don't like to sound negative or whine constantly, so when that's what I think I'll wind up doing, I tend to not write at all (at least not publicly).

In other news, I "got the job," but she said she needed me to start Monday (as in tomorrow, as in four days from the day that she interviewed me). I said that I would love to - but I have my final week of classes this week and finals on top of that. I told her I could *try* to inform my teachers and take my exams during the evening rather than the morning, but I couldn't really make any promises. She told me to email her and let her know, and if it all worked out, Monday would be great. I was never told "you've got the job," but in asking me to rearrange my final exam schedule, I was pretty sure it was a shoe-in. I emailed her Friday afternoon and told her that, lo and behold, since two of my finals are research papers (which can be emailed), my other two teachers were okay with me rescheduling my exams, since I came to them prior to the test rather than after missing it. She never wrote back, so now I have no idea if I am supposed to show up Monday morning or wait for her to call. I think I'll get up super early tomorrow and leave her a voicemail so she gets it as soon as she comes in, and that way, if she wants me to come in, I'll be a little late. If not, then, back to the search!

Looking Up

2011-12-07T13:36:00.000-05:00

I've been trying to focus all of my attention on the wonderful things about Christmas, and so far it's going pretty well. I'm putting a lot (maybe too much) thought into what I want to write in Arianna's Christmas card, her brother S's card, and her parents card, but it makes my heart smile to know that I even get the privilege of sending anything to her family at all. I went shopping with a friend last night and bought wrapping paper for their gifts, and tried to find a card, but none were all too fitting. If you had told me last year that this year I'd be shopping for gifts and wrapping paper for my daughter with a friend I would have thought you were out of your mind. This aspect (gift buying) of Christmas last year was awful. I'm 99% sure I was in tears in Target trying to pick out an outfit for her. I like to be alone when doing things like that - I guess I'm weird in that way. I don't even like my mom watching over my shoulder as I order her something online or something. I suppose it's because it's the one way I'm closest to my daughter, and I selfishly want to revel in it all by myself, or something. Anyways, it worked out well, because she helped me choose among the 53 different papers I had to choose from. :)

(If you couldn't tell, I love wrapping gifts. I'm that person at the Christmas party who coordinated the color of the wrapping paper with the gift, bow, and 'to and from' tag...)

Other aspects of my life have been looking up lately, also. I've been sleeping a thousand times better with the Ambien, and I hope to not have to take it for too much longer, but for now, it's doing the trick. I'm going to continue to take it at least through the end of the semester (which, by the way, I cannot wait for).

I got a call this morning to schedule an interview with a company I sent my resume to on Monday! It's not necessarily in line with my major and/or something I want to make a career of, necessarily, but it's a nice job with good pay in an office setting, which is more than I could ask for nowadays. If this falls through, I think I'm just going to apply for seasonal work in retail (the thought of which makes me cringe, because I've been there before and the holidays in retail are NOT pretty, but I can't be picky). I've also set up an interview for a few days before Christmas with an advisor at the Harvard Extension School (or, Harvard night school). It has much, much lower standards than Harvard University and a much lower price tag, but the programs that they have are perfect for what I want to do and the classes - while being double the cost of the ones where I go to school now - are still affordable with a small loan. I have two or three classes I have to wrap up at school in the Spring semester, so I won't be attending whatever school it is that I transfer to until the Fall of 2012. But I'm still on track to have my Bachelor's by the time miss Arianna turns four, which is a little promise I made to her and to myself.

New Tradition

2011-12-04T15:19:00.000-05:00

Our tree is officially up and decorated to it's full potential! I can't stress enough how much I love the holidays. Now that Arianna is one, I think this Christmas might be harder than last (although I do hope not), and I think I've already shared my thoughts on this before. It's just, last Christmas, she was a teeny tiny baby, sleeping all the time. Now she'll be walking, laughing, talking, opening her own gifts. The holidays are still beautiful to me, but just the thought of not being able to see her face light up as she looks into the colored lights on the tree and points to them and smiles makes my heart break in two.

Last year, one of my gifts was a glass baby rattle, that read 'Baby's First Christmas 2010.' I put it on the tree on Christmas day, and then when we took the tree down, I put it in her keepsake box with all of her things from the hospital. This year, I took it out and hung it on the tree again. I think I'll start a new tradition this year. I'll hang it up on my tree every year, in honor of her. I thought about maybe getting an ornament every year for her but hanging it on my own tree as a way to celebrate *with* her, but I think I like this idea better.

Go away, survey

2011-12-03T11:05:00.022-05:00

I got an email from Babies 'R' Us, asking me to participate in a survey based on my recent experience of buying online and picking up in the store. I was fine with it, and I decided to do it because I did have a good experience and I am very happy with the tea set and VERY excited to send it to little miss A. Going in the store to pick up the toy was hard, because it wasn't a Toys 'R' Us, but a Babies 'R' Us, so I had to walk by the baby registry with the expectant couples filling out their lists, etc. I just turned my tunnel vision on, bee lined it to the customer service booth, got what I wanted and left. Anyways, I was going about my way, filling out the survey and all was going well. That is, until the end, when it said "What kind of toy did you purchase?" Fisher-Price. Next question: "What are the age groups of children living in your home with you?" And you had to choose from "0-2," "3-5," "6-10," "11-17," or "there are no children under 18 living in my home." I wanted to choose the last one, because in all fairness, that's true...but I didn't, I clicked "0-2" and moved on. It's such a silly thing to put a kink in my mood, but it did. I don't expect everything in life, for the rest of my life, to be so broad-spectrum as to include answers that would suit a birth mom or a parent who isn't with his or her child for whatever reason. I can't imagine being a mom on earth to a baby in heaven and buying a gift for a niece or nephew and having to read that.

24 days 'til the most magical day of the year!

2011-12-01T17:52:00.002-05:00

Time for a picture post! I feel a little odd posting pictures of my daughter's gifts before she even gets to see them (hahaha) but I want to have this to look back on and remember what I got her and when. And I'm so excited that I have to share it with someone now, and while the next three weeks will fly by, I don't have the patience to hold it all in.

I tried to keep her Christmas gifts on a smaller scale than her birthday gifts, and I planned to get her three things like I did for her first Christmas last year. Well, that didn't go quite as planned, because I took my mom to a doctor's appointment this afternoon and while waiting, I went across the road to the shoppes and went into Barnes & Noble. But let me save the best for last...

This is what I gave her last year: two outfits and an ornament from the Disney store. I love Tinkerbell, so this ornament was special to me and her adoptive mom emailed me the same day they got the package and the ornament was on the tree. My heart nearly burst.

And, this is what I'm sending this year!:

This picture totally does an injustice to this jacket. It's an adorable shade of pink.

The tea pot sings when you open it, and the different shaped cakes are to help her learn her shapes!

I LOVE this hat. I wish they made one in adult-size.

Today, I got this for her adoptive big brother S:

And lastly, my favorite gift of all. I planned on getting the pea coat and white fluffy hat on Black Friday as well as the toy tea set for her. This was totally spur of the moment, and it's true that that's the way the best gifts come to you.

I'm so excited to record this book. Even if it goes in her room and isn't read to her right away, at least I'll know she has it. I think it's such an amazing book. The story inside is even better, because it doesn't give the child the impression that I'm just gone away on a trip or that I've passed away or anything dramatic like that. It just sends the message that the person who gave it to you misses you when they're far away from you, but that they aren't too sad because every day that they miss you is a day closer to seeing you again.

Do you think I should ask her birth dad if he wants to record it with me? I'm sure he would, if I asked. His "immaturity" aside, it might be nice for her to get to hear both of our voices. But then again, I'm not sure if that's more trouble than it's worth.

So, those are her gifts in a nutshell. She'll be 13 months tomorrow. Unreal. I know she'll only be just shy of 14 months on Christmas, but I hope she adores these gifts. Hopefully this year, she can do some more unwrapping on her own, unassisted. Last year, she could barely hold her head up on her own at Christmas, so this year will be so wonderful for her and her family (and me when I get my update)!

Second post of the day: combustion

2011-11-29T19:54:00.073-05:00

I was in such good spirits today. I knew we were going to decorate the Christmas tree tonight, and I live for that. That's what I love about Christmas...the lights outside, decorating the tree, the snow, and buying people gifts and that giddy feeling you get when you know they've just going to love it. Last Christmas was tough, but I think I was still fairly numb. Arianna was less than two months old, and I was still settling into the fact that I had been pregnant AND the fact that I was now a birth mom. I got an email from her adoptive parents on Christmas day, and that also helped more than they'll ever know. All in all it was okay, aside from when my mom and grandma were sitting at the kitchen table with me and we were doing some sort of puzzle and I burst into tears and ran into my room. Other than that, honestly, it was nice. This year, though, I feel like it's expected of me to be 'better.' I feel like if I have a crying spell in the middle of Christmas dinner or tear up as I'm tearing gifts open, I'll make everyone uncomfortable. That pressure alone, that fear alone, is enough to build the tears up as it is. Honestly, I'm scared.
I've been irritable lately. I feel like I'm a ticking time bomb, ready to go off at any minute. Don't get me wrong, when I smile or laugh, I'm not faking it. It's just like there's this 'elephant in the room' wherever I am; there's this obvious reminder that something (someone) is missing. It's hard to explain to my friends when they say 'cheer up,' or try and get me out of the house. It helps, temporarily. I hate to sound cliche, but it's so hard to convey the fact that I feel sick on the inside. I don't have a headache, or a stomach ache, or a cough, or any other ailment that would stop someone from wanting to go out and have fun. I have those things on the inside, and no one can see them. I can barely make sense of them. I feel bitchy or antisocial, but the mere thought of getting in the car and heading out for the night, even to go watch a movie, drains me. And when I try to explain that, it just comes out all wrong. I get it, none of my 'real life' friends have lost a child to adoption, and most have not had a child at all yet. I'm sure they've experienced some form of depression at some point, but I'm not one to say 'oh, pity me.' That's why I write here. I write because I'm not talking to one specific person, so it's easier to not feel like I'm whining quite as much as if I were to say this directly to someone. I guess what it is is depression, yes. Depression, anxiety, irritability, and no motivation to do anything but be in my bed, where I know if I burst into tears, I can just go under my covers rather than have to run and find a place to be alone like I would if I were in public. Nothing makes me feel truly, truly happy besides seeing an email from C. And that can't be healthy, can it?
This all came about this afternoon, when I was getting in the car to go visit my grandfather with my mother. We were walking out to the car, and I had a recent picture from A's birthday party in my hand. I was excited to show it to him, because he hasn't seen any pictures of his great-granddaughter since September. As I opened the passenger door, it came flooding over me all at once. It was like hot lava. My face started burning up and I wanted to smash in the window of the Jeep. There I was, holding a 1/1000th inch thick piece of paper between my fingers, rather than a tangible, real child. I should have been walking over to the backseat, with her walking that bouncy walk that all babies do before they master walking, and opening her door for her to put her in her car seat. Instead of a paper thin photograph, I should have had her hand in mine. I could literally feel her little fingers, grasping onto my hand for dear life as she walked in tandem with me - but not in tandem, because her little legs would take three steps to each one of mine. I could feel the pull of her arm as she tried to balance herself, and I could almost feel her weight against my chest as I lifted her into her car seat. I lost it. Instead of her, all I had in my hands was a picture. Nothing separating me from the car but air; no child between us, no one squeezing my fingers til hers turned white at the ends, no one making little grunting noises for me to pick her up and put her in the car. It's not to say I realized what I lost, in that moment, it's more to say it hit me all over again, in a way that it hasn't in a while. How different my life would have been...harder, but happier. I got so angry that I decided not to give him the picture at all, because I was scared that I would start crying all over again. Call me selfish, but he didn't know it was coming to him today, and I'll give it to him another day this week.
I should focus on the positive...I should be thankful I had that photo in my hand at all. Some birth moms aren't even afforded that gift. But this is the truth, this is how I feel right now: how can I be grateful for a photograph when it's given to me in place of my beautiful, breathing daughter? How am I supposed to say I wouldn't prefer the latter? Of course I would, I can't think of anyone who wouldn't.

Her one year scrapbook is complete!

2011-11-29T13:26:00.073-05:00

I finished my baby girl's scrapbook this past weekend. I started it last December, and sort of made myself a blueprint to do a page a month, aligned with her age that month. I stayed pretty on-track! I spent way more money than I should have on stickers and specialty paper, but how could I not? They have stickers for all of the first holidays, first steps, first tooth, first birthday, and anything baby-related under the sun. I don't even want to know the actual amount of money I put into this book. I am happy with the way it turned out, though, so that's all that matters. It was a good hobby to keep me busy and feel close with my little girl. I couldn't sleep last night, so I took it out and looked at it in bed. I can't believe I've filled all the pages, I can't believe the difference between the nakey little screaming baby on her birthday in the hospital and the little mini adult in her fairy costume on her birthday this year. It brought me to tears. She has changed so much. I feel like I haven't changed much, or as much as I would have liked to, but progress is a tall mountain to climb when it comes to adoption. I've never been more proud of anything or anyone in my life as I am of that little girl. (ETA: if anyone wants to see the pages from my scrapbook, and is on Facebook, I have a private album there that you can see. I'd much rather post them there than here, where anyone in the world [literally] could see them, and I wouldn't know. There's a little more sense of control on Facebook, although not much).

Arianna's birthdad and I met up yesterday to 'discuss' Christmas gifts. I told him what I got her; a really adorable pink plaid pea coat ($15 during Old Navy's Thanksgiving weekend sale), an even cuter white furry winter hat with two puffy balls at the top and strings with balls on them that tie at the neck, and a talking tea set with little cookies from Toys R Us. Actually, I ordered that online yesterday because they had a cyber Monday sale, and I get to go pick it up this afternoon. I'll post pictures tomorrow! Anywho, he wants to get her a necklace. He said he wanted it to be somewhat like the one I have (a silver chain with 5 tiny charms on it: her birthstone, my birthstone, a pearl just for decoration, and 2 hearts. One heart has an 'a' on it for her name and an 'e' on it for mine. I've worn it every single day since I got it last Christmas). He wants it to be similar to that, but not quite like that, and wants to get it engraved. Apparently, he's saved up a few hundred dollars for this. Unless he gets it engraved at Tiffany's, he won't need anywhere near that much, but it's one of the first kind efforts he's made for her in a long time, so I'm not complaining. We talked about the possibility of doing a joint gift, or, if the necklace he picks out is an exorbitant amount of money for some reason, we might go half on it. I'm not sure on that yet, because like I said, I've already gotten her 3 things. I would be nice if this one 'big' thing was from him, and him alone. We'll see, though. It's in his hands, and he is going to mail it through the agency. I put my foot down once and for all and said I will not be the one to hand out their address (for it is not mine to hand out), and I won't meet up with him again to get it from him to send it with my gifts. He was okay with that, and for once, we didn't argue and I wasn't sad to part ways with him. Granted, it was awkward, especially when he wanted to get a closer look at my necklace. He walked towards me and said he wasn't trying to "get in my bubble or anything" but he wanted to look at it. In comparison to how close we used to be...how we used to be so much closer physically than that every day, how we used to hug and kiss each other hello and goodbye...it was weird for him to almost apologize for standing so close to me. It was just a stark example of how much has changed between us. It's for the best, though.

So, I'm off to go pick up what I ordered!

A Little Unnerved

2011-11-28T10:28:00.000-05:00

I have had two of the strangest dreams that I can ever remember having last night and the night before. I'm certain they have a meaning; it's barely even a guess. You don't have to be a dream analyst to see that something is eating at me (or a few things).

Dreams are so weird to explain to someone who didn't experience them themselves and even harder to convey with concrete words over the internet! So, Saturday night, I went to bed at a decent hour. I felt a little 'off' all day and somewhat nauseous, but I blamed it on the fact that I hadn't eaten anything at all until dinner at 6. Anyways. The dream started off with me in this little room (about the size of your average bathroom, or maybe two beside each other) that had walls made of wooden slats. You could see through the little cracks between the pieces of wood, but you could only see black. Turns out it was some kind of haphazard musician's store that sold only underground music. The light inside was very dull and it was sort of hard to see. I don't know how I got in there, but I noticed a little 'door' that you could walk out of. I looked at it, and it was less than a half a foot wide. I thought for sure I wouldn't fit through it, and I felt claustrophobic at the mere thought of squeezing through it. When I peeked through, I caught glimpse of the inside of the second floor of a house that was evidently attached to this "store." It was the house of G's ex/girlfriend/ex/girlfriend (not sure what they are now)/mother of his older daughter. As soon as I saw it I freaked out, and went to look out the only teeny 8" x 10" window that was really high up on the wall. I saw his green car, her black car, and her sister's black car. I then realized that there was no way I was leaving through the front door of their house, and there was no way for me to leave this "store" without going through the house. So, I went for it. I squeezed through the opening and tried to sneak to the top of their stairs to see who was awake and if anyone would see me. I saw that there was someone watching TV, so I turned around and headed back to the little store. On the way, the floor creaked SO loudly and she came running up the stairs to see who was there. She started yelling at me and as she was yelling, a door opened to a little room and G was inside and his daughter was sleeping in the bed beside him. He asked me what I was doing and if I had Arianna with me. I remember being so scared that I was shaking, afraid I'd get arrested for trespassing or breaking in, when all I was trying to do was get out of the little dark room that was attached to the house. All of a sudden, he closed the door and was texting me from inside the room, while the mother of his other kid was sitting there talking and laughing with me. I was still very reserved, but she was acting like we were old friends. SO WEIRD.

I think this dream stemmed from a little argument we had over text last weekend. She started it, started asking questions, and I was friendly to her. I don't know what she is to him at the moment, other than his child's mother. The conversation ended (on my part) when she said something about how she's 'better than me because she raises her beautiful daughter that she sees and holds every night.' At this point, I called G and told him that I didn't know where he was or where she was, but to call her and tell her to stop communicating with me. He didn't even know she had, and according to him, didn't know why she had. Also, according to him, she's psychotic and 'crazy, man.' Uh, okay.

Last night, my dream was even worse. It wasn't scary, but I don't even think 'heart wrenching' would cover it. I don't remember how it started or ended, all I remember was my daughter was a little baby again, and she was in my bedroom in a bassinet. When I asked my friend (who was there with me) why she was there, she said that her parents had dropped her off for me to babysit. I was confused, to say the least. I was supposed to work that day, and didn't want to miss out on any time with her, so I called out. I spent the day and night with her with no word from her adoptive parents. The next day, I still hadn't heard anything, but was happy to get to spend time with her. My friend then told me that her parents would be coming to get her between 4 and 5 that evening (still not sure why my friend knew all of this information, but in my dream, I didn't question it at all) and I was supposed to go into work at 4. I called work and asked if I could come in a little late, because I didn't want to not be home when her mom came to get her. I waited and waited, and they never came. Then, I walked back into my room and there was a note tied to her bassinet that said "poor girls, sometimes the parents end up not being able to handle the baby, so they bring the baby back to her mother." I was confused, to say the LEAST, and also relieved that they weren't coming back at all. I was scared, because I still didn't have the resources to raise her the way she deserved to be, but figured this was a sin that I should give it a chance. Then I woke up.
That one startled me to my core. There was an eerie atmosphere in the dream, and when I woke up, I could still feel it in real life. I really, really, really don't get this one. My first one, I can sort of understand. Clearly I am feeling like I don't belong in G's life as much as the mother of his other child does because their child is physically with them, or something. That's another story. But this one...is beyond strange, for a few reasons. (1) my daughter is a year old now, walking, talking, and has a bunch of teeth. She is far from the swaddled little baby I held in the hospital. (2) I don't want her back, I mean of course on some level I will always wish she were here and wish I could have raised her myself. But at this point in time, I can honestly say, that doesn't really cross my mind. If anything, I wish things had been different fron the start (and even that, only sometimes). I would never dream of disrupting her life in such a way and I don't have any problems or regrets as far as her family goes. And (3), Where would such a note have come from?! It's so strange.

I wish I knew the meaning, but maybe it's not meant to be understood. It was just a dream, after all. But one of the things I fear most when I go to sleep is having a dream where I am with my daughter again. When I wake up from those dreams, it's like my heart shatters all over again when I realize that it was all in my head. It drives me crazy.

Grief

2011-11-22T15:33:00.001-05:00

"No, I don't think it (goes away). Not for me, it hasn't - has gone on for eleven years. But it changes though...the weight of it, I guess. At some point, it becomes bearable. It turns into something that you can crawl out from under and... carry around like a brick in your pocket. And you... you even forget it, for a while. But then you reach in for whatever reason and - there it is. Oh right, that. Which could be awful - but not all the time. It's kinda... not that you'd like it exactly, but it's what you've got instead of your child. So, you carry it around. And... it doesn't go away."

~ Rabbit Hole

National Adoption Day

2011-11-19T16:26:00.001-05:00

Today is National Adoption Day! This is a day that I never ever would have thought would be a part of my life at all, and now here it is, such a huge part of who I am today. Not a day goes by that adoption doesn't affect me in one way or another, good or bad. Likewise, not a day goes by that I don't think about my daughter or her family. Thinking about her family brings on pain, happiness, and gratefulness, all at once. I am so grateful that adoption has given my daughter the gift of the love of not just one mother, but two. That it has given her not two families (mine and G's), but four families plus God knows how many extended families.

Adoption is definitely a double-edged sword. There are days where I feel like I'm being twisted from the inside out because of it; and there are days where I can't help but smile to myself, knowing that my daughter has so much more than I could have given her. But what I do know is this: without adoption, my daughter would have grown up without a stable father figure (this is my assumption, anyway. Maybe he would have proven us all wrong, but I doubt it). and a struggling mother. Because of adoption, she is a mere one year old and already a daddy's girl, and has a mother who did everything right and in order before having a child. I love her family as an extension of my own, and I have faith that they feel the same about me.

It's hard to hear my daughter's mom tell me how she wants to take them to the park this weekend or that weekend, how she took her to her 6 month check-up, how she has to send out a 'quick hello' because our daughter is getting ready for bath time. It's hard to fight off the instinctual feeling that I would give my right arm to be the one doing those things for her when I read that kind of stuff. But then her mom tells me that she was snuggling our daughter in bed that night with tears in her eyes as she thought of all that she has brought to their world, or she tells me that I am always in their thoughts and that they can't thank me enough for the gift of love that I gave to them. There are the times that she tells me that she will always encourage a relationship between Arianna and I, and even G and Arianna, and that this beautiful little girl brings a smile to the face of everyone in her family, from here to California and where ever else they've traveled with her. The way my heart bursts with love, pride, and happiness when I hear those things so greatly overpowers the hurt I feel by not being by her side day in and day out. I trust that she will always know, no matter what, that she lives in my heart and I in hers.

So, Happy National Adoption Day to all birth moms, birth dads, adoptive moms, adoptive dads, adopted children, fostered children, foster moms and dads, and any and everyone else touched by adoption in any way.

One Year Reflections

2011-11-18T13:08:00.003-05:00

Around a year ago or so, I wrote down a list of everything that was on my mind in regards to little A. I never published it to my blog but rather emailed it to myself, so I could look back on it later. Honestly, I had forgotten about it until this morning, when I was cleaning out my inbox and I came across something from "me" mixed in with all the other emails. I opened it, and thus, the discovery of the list. I'll post it here, without editing it or removing anything. Keep in mind, I wrote this about a week or so after I had officially signed, so there's a lot of gut-reaction feelings in it (I hope that's what they are). I sort of did a side-by-side comparison...what I wrote last year is in purple, and how I feel about it now is in bold type...

I hate seeing women with babies in their carriages in the supermarket. Agree.

I hate seeing pregnant women. Agree.

I am jealous of any friends or friends of friends who have babies or are pregnant. Agree, but I'm coming to terms with realizing that I can't blame anyone else for my situation or be jealous of anyone else's happiness.
I am jealous of everyone on Facebook who has an ultrasound as their profile picture. Sort of agree.

I am angry. Agree

I want my little girl back. Disagree. She is where she belongs and is SO happy.

Sometimes I wish I hadn't signed the papers. Disagree.

I wish I had never been with her father. Disagree.

I wish I had never met her father. Disagree. I wish I hadn't said this, it's like saying I wish she had never been born. Nothing could be further from the truth.

I wish everyone around me would hold off from getting pregnant for about 5 to 10 years. Wow. This one was a little immature (okay, a lot).

I have serious trust issues now. Agree.

I have so many regrets that I don't even know what's what anymore. Disagree.

I wish it was the beginning of Fall again, so I could feel her kicking around inside of me. Agree!

I wish I could hold her. Agree.

I wish I could kiss her. Agree.

I wish I could call her mine. Hmm...agree and disagree. She still is mine, and always will be, just like she will always be C's, too.

I wish she had G's last name...I wish we were a real family. Sometimes, I like to wish this had been the way it turned out...like a fairy tale. But it didn't, and every time I see him, it solidifies the fact that she deserved so much better than his last name. His last name didn't come with a daddy attached.

I wish he hadn't been so selfish. Agree.

I wish I hadn't been so selfish. Agree.

I hope my daughter never thinks I didn't want her. AGREE

I wish I could either go back in time or fast forward time. Sometimes.

I wish I was 18 again, so I could go back to the day I met him and walk away. Nope.

I wish I hadn't ignored all of the signs that he was lying and that he was no good for me. Yes and no. I wish I hadn't been hurt but I'm glad I learned a lesson. Let me get back to this one next year.

I wish I had never had to make this decision. Disagree. To take myself out of the position of having to choose between adoption and parenting would mean my little girl was never a part of this world. So, no.

I've come a long way in a year...longer than I thought I had (judging by my spontaneous thoughts this year and last). Maybe I'll sit down later on and do the same thing again - just type whatever comes to my mind when I think about A, G, our relationship, and her family.

I'd recommend doing this to anyone who is struggling or having a tough time with anything in their lives right now. Sometimes written 'proof' of your honest, raw feelings can be a good thing to reflect on 6 months or a year down the road. It could make you feel just a little bit better when you come across it in the future.

Open Adoption Bloggers Interview Project

2011-11-17T14:33:00.006-05:00

It's finally time for the Open Adoption Interview Project 2011! I was paired up with Karen, an adoptive mom who blogs at The Spinning Goth. I enjoyed reading her posts; while she blogs about adoption, her posts are not limited to this subject, which gives you a good dynamic view of the parts of her life she so chooses to share. Her posts are well-written and fun to read. Consider me a "daily reader" from now on!

1. In one of your posts, I read that your adoption would have opened a lot more slowly had it not been for your child's birth mother. Mind if I ask what it is that she said to move towards openness so quickly?

I don't know if it was anything she said, exactly. It was more what she did. When I brought my 2 month update to our agency (which was almost immediately after we were placed - long story), there was a packet of stuff from M. A high school graduation announcement, some pictures from when Anabel was in the hospital that had her whole family and S (her first father), and her last name, address and phone number. After that it was a matter of fighting what our social worker was saying, what our extended family was saying, and my own insecurities as a parent. Also moving from supervised to unsupervised visits, which happened fairly quickly.

2. If I'm doing the math correctly, your daughter is almost 10 years old. Has the dynamic of your visits with her birth mom changed over the years? If so, how?

Oh hell yes. :D We spend a lot more time hanging back and letting them have their time together than when she was younger. It's a lot more relaxed than our visits used to be, which is good. When Anabel was younger, there was a lot more visiting with the adults than now.

3. On that note, how has your daughters curiousness and/or questions about adoption evolved over the years?

Anabel's a lot more comfortable with adoption than she had been. She does ask some questions that are difficult for us to answer; such as why she was placed (we really don't know that one, although I can guess now that I know M's family better), her birth story, why she doesn't have visits with S. I've always encouraged her to talk to M, because she has those answers. At least all but the last one.

She also brings up other kids at her school who are adopted. She's had the choice to talk about her adoption or not when she's on her own, and has had since she was in kindergarten. She did have the dreaded "family tree" assignment in 1st grade. I spoke to her teacher about it and learned that her mother (teacher's) was adopted as well. Her teacher also mentioned that she would let the kids choose whether or not they wanted to share their trees with the class. I was proud that Anabel decided she would share with her class. She said that her teacher didn't allow questions from the class for anybody's tree, which was fine by me.

4. Are any other members of your family adopted?

A few members of my family are adopted. My mother is an only child, so all of our "cousins" were her first cousins. I think 3 of her cousins adopted children; 2 were adopted as infants, 1 was adopted from foster care when she was...4? I think it was 4. There was also a kinship adoption in her family as well, back in the 1920s or '30s.

5. I read in another post that you are not surprised that your daughter is a wonderful writer, because her birth mom is a very good writer. In your experience, do your daughter's hobbies seem to reflect more on her "nature" or her "nurture" (from you and your family)?

I think most of her hobbies and interests are "nature". She's an amazing writer like M, she's musical like the majority of M's family, she's really good at math like M and S. Pretty much the only things she's gotten from Keith and I are knitting and crocheting and video gaming.

The End!

I learned a lot more than I thought I would from this interview project! Karen's answer to my last question has me very intrigued (as you know, I wrote one of my research/reflection papers on nature vs. nurture this semester, and I included some of my daughter's adoption story within it) and even more excited to see my little girl's ever-developing personality as she grows.

It was nice to "meet" you, Karen!

To read more interviews, check out the list of interviewers & interviewees at Production Not Reproduction.

A "The Playboy Club" actress speaks out in an adoption article

2011-11-15T22:33:00.001-05:00

I was in a funk today (and that's putting it lightly). I think it was the combination of my daughter's birth father acting like a complete and total jacka*s and my therapist only being able to see me for a half hour session today (I had lots to talk about, doctor!), and the fact that I had to go to a wake. Those are always rough, no matter how close you were to the person or their family. Loss is loss, and it seems all too familiar lately.

It's almost bedtime, so tomorrow is a new day.

Anyways, the point of me mentioning this weird attitude is this: my dear friend came over this afternoon and we went out to get our nails done. She paid, which was much appreciated due to my lack of a job these days and because it was just plain nice of her. As my nails were drying, a magazine on the table in front of me caught my eye. One of the cover stories said "I Found the Long-Lost Sister I'd Never Met."

I was curious to see if it was adoption-related, and sure enough, it was. It was about an actress (Leah Renee Cudmore) from The Playboy Club, and while I know nothing about what that is, I have heard of it in passing. It's in the December issue of Glamour magazine, if anyone's interested.

The article was both heartwarming and heartbreaking. I suppose legalities would stop me from summarizing the entire thing, but basically, Leah asked her mom why she always got sad around a certain time of year (more specifically the date of the sister she was unaware of's birthday) and her mom told her that she and her father had had another baby that they placed for adoption. Apparently her daughter then became determined to locate and meet her older (adopted) sister, while her mother warned her against it and told her that her sister was being raised in a nice, happy home, and that they shouldn't intrude on her life with her family. Leah hunted her down anyway, via the internet, and the two met and it was one of the happiest moments of each of their lives. She said that they looked alike, acted alike, and that she felt so complete. Her mom was still apprehensive, but eventually they reunited as well.

I gathered from the article that it was a closed adoption, but who knows. It hurt my heart a little to hear that the mother seemed to afraid of the two sisters meeting, but I couldn't help but smile when I read the conclusion and how happy each person involved was (they didn't mention the adoptive parents in the article, which I wish they had). I hope in the future, that my daughter won't have to search out and discover her biological older half-sister nor do I hope it's the other way around. I know my daughter's family is open to her knowing about and meeting her entire biological family, I just hope that my daughter's birth dad stays in the picture enough to make a beautiful connection such as this happen. While she is my child's half-sister, I have no relation to her whatsoever, and for all I know, he could very easily never tell her about her little sister. She is only five now, and our daughter is only one, so there's time to let that work itself out. I just hope that they each want to get to know each other, and I hope that they can form a beautiful friendship one day. My relationship with my daughter's father, my relationship with his other child's mother, and his relationship with his other child's mother should not affect a relationship between sisters. I hope neither of them lose out on a beautiful meeting and a lifelong friendship, should they both so desire. I know that is out of my hands, and in reality, it's out of his hands, too. It's all in my adoptive daughter's family's hands, and those two innocent little girl's hands.

Broken Record

2011-11-13T15:00:00.000-05:00

"i signed the papers on wednesday. the 10th. looking back on it, i don't know how i physically pulled myself together enough to do it. her father is signing next tuesday.
thursday, which was the 11th, i saw her for the last time. i changed her diaper, for the last time, and i fed her a bottle for the last time. i'm crying now as i write this, so it probably won't be long. i can barely see. i kissed her on the cheek and told her i loved her and i said "daddy loves you, too" because i know he does love her. deep down i know what kind of person he is and i know he loves her. his actions are immature, but that's a story for another day.

her adoptive parents gave me a card and a necklace with her birthstone. in the card, they explained that she has one too, that is exactly the same, so we will both have one and understand the meaning when she (and the necklaces) meet again.

i miss her so much already. this hurts worse than anything i have ever felt in my entire life. i had so many second thoughts, so many ideas to make it work....but i know they were just my emotions speaking. none of my circumstances had changed, the only thing that changed was i actually MET her and fell even more in love with her. i had no more money than i had when i made the decision, he and i had no better of a relationship, her future was no more guaranteed...... i knew it would be even harder after she was born, but i didn't realize how much harder.
but, if this pain is what i have to feel to give her the best life possible, then i will do it. i will suffer every day for the rest of my life over this if i have to, if it means she will be happy and have an amazing life. it's a small sacrifice if i look at the big picture. if i think of my daughter. i want to take away all of her pain not just now but forever and if this is my first step in doing so, then i am happy with it.

i would like to change it, i would like to have her with me, but i know it can't be - it's not in her best interest. mine is not of concern to me at the moment, because if it were, she would be in my arms as we speak.

i have faith that i will make it, it's just a matter of how long it will take, when it will happen"

One year later, it still hasn't really happened. I have taken many steps closer to making it happen, but I'm not there yet. I don't think I'll be completely at peace until I've become someone that she can be proud of...until I've finished my education (and 'finished' might mean obtained a PhD for the field I want to go into) and until I've become all of the things I wasn't when she was born. She was far too good for the "me" that I was last year and she'll be far too good for this "me" whether she's a year old or thirty years old, if I don't get my act together. If that's not motivation, I don't know what is.

last fall . . .

Would you like to try my shoes on?

2011-11-11T20:25:00.005-05:00

Today marks one year since I've seen my baby girl in person. I feel like, since October, the only two words out of my mouth have been "one" and "year," so I apologize for being so redundant. It's just hard to stop and think about what I was doing one week ago, one month ago, and especially one year ago, when I'm not completely moving forward. I hope that this gets easier with time. I don't believe I'll be sitting here dwelling on what happened two years ago or five years ago or ten years ago...but one year is like the tippity-top of a giant mountain for me. A mountain I've been climbing since, well, a year ago. Being 11/11/11, I've heard and seen so many people saying 'make a wish' today. I wish I could be with my daughter. I wish I could have given her what the W's give her. But the truth is, I couldn't then and I can't now. I can't dwell on that "what-if's?," they drive me insane.
I received a message today that stung, really badly. It screamed of ignorance and at first I thought I could try to educate the girl who sent it to me, but after one message back to her, I realized that it was a lost cause. Maybe she didn't mean to hurt me, maybe she did, I'm not sure. Let me start from the beginning. I worked with this girl at a financial services building, and there were five or six of us packed into little cubicles. We all got to know one another, but not extremely intricately. We were more than acquaintances, but would never spend time together outside of work. Anyways, that was in late 2009. We all got laid off in early 2010 (when I had just gotten pregnant and didn't even know it), so while she knew about my daughter's bio father, she knew nothing of my pregnancy or the adoption (because, at the time, I clearly didn't either). Let me also clarify what I mean by "she knew about my daughter's bio father" - she knew he existed, knew I was in a relationship with him. She knew nothing else, no one there did. She didn't know that that was just around when we started constantly arguing...she didn't know that he was the reason why I'd disappear into the conference room with my phone and come out with tears running down my cheeks at least one day a week.
I'm getting off track. What I'm trying to say is, while this girl knew me, she also didn't know me at all. Knew my face but barely knew the first thing about me. She friended me on facebook way back when, and we've been friends ever since, until today. I posted a status about my daughter today, saying something about how I can't believe it's been a year since I've seen her in person and that missing her never gets easier. Looking back on it, I guess I did it as sort of a 'warning' to my friends. I've been in a mood for the past week or so, and they either try to cheer me up (much appreciated) or just leave me alone. I planned wholeheartedly to just be anti-social today and stay in bed and watch sappy movies, and I didn't want anyone to think I was annoyed with them and/or ignoring them. So I sort of made a PSA about something I probably should have sent in a text message to the 3 or 4 friends who I talk to on a daily basis. Shoulda, coulda, woulda...isn't that what I was just saying I can't dwell on? Right.
So within 3 minutes I get a private message from the girl mentioned above. She may or may not read this, I don't know, and I don't care. The following is our conversation:

Her: Hey girl I know I'm being wicked nosey but I can't help but reading ur status's and seeing how much pain ur in and how much u miss ur baby why did you give her up?

(side note: just reading the phrase 'give her up' went through me like a rusty nail, but I looked past that because I would have used the same wording two years ago, before I had this experience. I wasn't going to answer at all, but if you know me, you know I have a hard time letting things go)

Me: Because although I knew it would kill me but I'd rather be upset so she can be happy. It wasn't necessarily what I wanted for me but I had to put her first and she needed and deserved more than her father and I. She is extremely well taken care of and will always know me.

Her: I don't have much I'm unemployed I live in public housing and can't go out every weekend with them or anything but I'm happy cause I have them and they are happy with what they have, I think without my boys I would literally be dead by now they changed my life around for the better I just don't understand and I don't mean this in any wrong way but my heart breaks when I read ur status i have been in shelters and slept in my car with my son but as long as we were together everything was ok and we stuck in there and now we have a roof over our head

Me: I guess I can't explain it to you. I could have done the same thing with her and I don't mean this in a bad way either but I didn't want her going through that because she didn't ask to be born to someone with an unstable job and an unstable relationship. Going into a shelter with her and waiting for housing crossed my mind many times but I couldn't stand the thought of her going through that with me when she could have so much better. She would have been happy with me and more than loved and taken care of but wouldn't have had all that she deserved

Her: OK But my son does not even remember any of that he was 3 weeks old and his father is not around but my 10 month olds dad is but right now at this very moment I do it all myself I'm a single mother of a 4 year old and a 10 month old and we get by we may not have it all but we have eachother. I just don't think I would understand if my mom did that u know? Don't you know all babies want and deserve there mother?

ARGH! (I won't even go into the their/there error, although I want to) can you believe this? Who is she to make me feel like scum? Worse, why am I letting her? I let it go after that and didn't say anything. I was nicer than I should have been. What I wanted to tell her was: You, as a mother, should be familiar with the feeling of wanting your child to have the best of everything life has to offer him or her. If you think that living out of a car and having a dad come in and out of his or her life is what's in your child's best interest and what your child deserves, then more power to you. I, on the other hand, wanted my daughter to have so much more and knew she deserved so much more. I could have done it and yes, she would have been happy. She would have known no different. There are millions of young, single moms who do it everyday, and I look up to them for being so strong. It's a personal choice, and I don't think you have any right to tell me one way is better than another. You chose your path and I have chosen mine, and they are both difficult roads to travel. We are both mothers who did and are doing what we think is best for our children whether they are with us or not. Lastly, I know my daughter deserves her mother, and she has her mother - the woman who loves her as her own and raises her is her mother. In fact, she has two mothers who love her to the ends of the earth and would do anything possible to keep her safe and happy. Which is what I did and what her mother continues to do.

I have never, ever, ever been one to put myself on a pedestal, and that is far from what I'm doing right now. I'm not being self-righteous and saying that adoption is the only way to go if you can't provide your child with a solid gold training potty and a Mercedes for their 16th birthday. I did what was best for me and for my daughter at the time, and I would do it again for her in a heartbeat if I knew she would be happier and more stable. Keeping my child and doing what this girl is doing would have been the easier thing to do. It may have been a struggle every day, but it would have been a million times easier on my heart.

I would never and have never messaged this girl when her status' were about fighting with her son's dad or needing food stamp money. Never once, because (a) I'm not judging her and (b) you couldn't pay me to be that rude to someone. I understand that she has not been through it and is not a birth mom herself, and it's hard for anyone who hasn't worn these shoes to try them on even for a second. But it's because of this that she should have realized to keep her mouth shut. If she meant to be consoling or helpful to me in any way, all she succeeded in was the opposite.

It offended me to the core and hurt, a lot. Again, I guess it's hard to be on the side of the fence you have to stand on when you defend the statement, "I did what I did because I loved her to death," because that sentiment is rarely understood by the majority of people. Most think, if you loved her so much, how could you be without her? I can't tell you how. It's hell sometimes. I can't tell you how I get up out of bed every day and live my life without her because most of the time I don't know how I do it. I just know why I do it, and that is because I need to be someone she is proud of someday. I did what I did all for her and I do what I do now all because of her.

This girl acted as if I elected to get pregnant and walked down the yellow brick road that is adoption and happily signed away my rights to my daughter. She also acts as if I just dropped her off on the sidewalk and hoped someone who was qualified to be a parent picked her up and took her home. I think this got under my skin more than it normally would simply because today is the one year mark. It's 8:18 right now . . . I walked out of the house without her at 8:30 on this day last year. It's hard. It sucks, and it hurts, but I'm not going to throw a pity party, so excuse my language, but fuck you for making me feel even worse on a day that was already a living hell for me (which she knew, due to said status that sparked this entire dialogue). I started out wanting to explain to her the amount of love it takes to be a birth mom. I wanted to explain to her that I love my daughter just as much as she loves her sons. I wanted to explain that I understand that your son won't remember the first few tough weeks of his life, but that her conscience had to have known it wasn't fair to him.

It just brought all of the 'what-if's?' to the surface, yet again, which is why at the beginning of this post, I vowed to try and stop that way of thinking. There's really only one 'what-if,' anyway. Whether or not I could have done it is not a question, if I could have given her enough love is not a question, if she would have had food and a roof over her head is not a question, if she would have been happy is not a question (and just in case they are, the answer is yes). The only 'what-if?' is what if I had taken her home with me. I will always wonder how each of our lives would have played out had I done that. But I didn't, so I'll never know. I'll only get to see one outcome, and the chances of her being successful and stable are 99% higher at the end of the road I chose for her than they would have been had I chosen the opposite path. That's the truth that I don't need to justify to anyone but myself and my little girl.

'Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you dear...'

2011-11-10T11:38:00.005-05:00

I can't believe this day has come. Already. I can't believe my baby girl has six teeth and is walking with ease, and just a year ago she weighed a mere 8 something pounds.

One year ago today, I signed those god awful papers. Those papers that I was given a copy of to take home with me. As if I wanted a copy of those, as if I needed a reminder of those. Today, I'm sad beyond belief.

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

2011-11-08T13:08:00.004-05:00

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.

'We Are All Lucky'

2011-11-06T15:19:00.007-05:00

It's taken me a few days to get around to writing this post, because I have no words for the joy I felt seeing my baby girl walking on the screen in front of my very own eyes. I've seen her in pictures, monthly, since last November...but seeing her actually moving gave me a whole new sense of peace. In some of the pictures I've gotten, she's been making silly faces and whatnot, but that's all I've gotten to see. A stillframe of her. I've seen her giant smiles, but up until last Thursday, I hadn't seen them forming across her face. Like I said, I really don't have words. I never thought I'd get to witness some of the very first steps she ever took. She is even more beautiful "in person" than she is in pictures. Her mom told us all about her (how she now has six teeth, hates vegetables, is very independent and persistent, and is a little diva in the making), and we stayed on the call for well over 45 minutes. That was about 35 minutes more than I had anticipated, and I will cherish every second of it. I got to see her do so many things, from finishing her dinner, to walking all around the room and also pulling herself up to self-feeding herself some of those little Gerber "puffs," and even all the way to seeing her press all the keys on the laptop and also knock the camera off it's little stand. Hahaha. She's so rambunctious. I just watched in awe as she walked around, laughing, babbling, and clapping her hands together. She has the sweetest little voice, and I realize how blessed I am to have been able to hear it. I couldn't and still can't believe that exactly one year ago to the day that we were Skyping, she was a teeny baby all swaddled up in her pink and blue hospital blanket. It's unreal.

I know a lot of people (birth moms and dads) get the opportunity to have visits; but I truly don't feel that it's right for us at this time. Of course I would give anything to hold her in my arms forever, but I could barely handle hanging up from the Skype call. I don't know that I could handle seeing her. And while so many others do have face-to-face visits, I can't think about that or compare myself, because everyone's story is different. I feel infinitely blessed to have been able to have this Skype video call with them, and even more blessed that it was her mom's suggestion and not my own.

Her mom was telling me about how much they cherish and love her to pieces, and how when her dad is around, she's basically chopped liver, because the baby wants to be around him all the time. She was laughing about it, but inside I was secretly beaming. This is just what I wanted for her: her to be a daddy's girl. She would never have had this amazing relationship with G, even if (or even though, I don't know which word to use) he was a stand-up, loving father, he wouldn't be a constant in her life. He wouldn't be who she deserved. She told me a bit more about our little one's daily life and about her birthday party, which was that past weekend. I said, "she's lucky!," and her mom replied with "no, we're lucky. We are so lucky." and I said, "we're all lucky." I almost cried when she looked right at the screen, my little girl under her right arm and her little container of puffs in the other and said "we are all lucky." It's so true. This little life has touched so many people; not just me and her birth dad or her adoptive mom and dad and big brother, but two entire families and beyond. We are all lucky. Anyone who has her in their life is lucky. (Do I sound like one of those bragging mothers? Haha,)

I was walking on air for the rest of the night (we started the call right at 6:30 and ended it around 7:20) and the next morning, too. Coincidentally, the next morning was November 4th, which was the day I left the hospital after giving birth to her. The day I left the hospital with so much less than I walked in there with; most importantly, I left without my heart. This year, November 4th was probably one of the hardest days while simultaneously being one of the best days. My heart was broken replaying last year in my head over and over, but at the same time, my heart was swollen with pride and love after seeing my daughter (albeit it, it was on the computer, but she may as well have been right in front of me!), walking and being so grown up.

I suppose I don't have much else more to say...I'm not looking forward to the 'anniversaries' that are coming up in the next few days, but I don't want to dwell on it, and I'm still overjoyed thinking about our call. I don't think I'll ever forget a detail of it.

Reading my birthday card...look at that smile! (I pixelated her mom's face, just to protect her privacy. I don't think any of you guys are creep-o's, but you never know who reads these).

Happy First Birthday!

2011-11-02T18:33:00.004-04:00

Happy 1st Birthday, baby girl!
I can't believe the day has finally come. I think last night was harder for me than today was. Today wasn't as brutal as I thought it was going to be, but was still rough. I kept thinking about how, on this day last year, I still had two more entire days with her, plus a visit to her foster-adopt home and one more visit the night she went home with her family (11/11/10). Also, knowing that her actual birthday party was last Saturday lessened the blow a little. Part of my sadness was over missing her party..so it helped that I didn't have that on my shoulders today, too.
I headed to bed around eleven, and I slept with her little hospital hat in my hands the whole night. I just kept replaying last 11/01 over and over in my head, til finally I fell asleep. I woke up, wide awake, at 6:28 a.m., and stared at the clock until 6:31 (the time she was born). It was like I was back in that hospital room again...I could hear the nurses voice as clear as a bell, I remembered the lighting and the smells in the room and the fetal heart beat monitor beep beep beeping and thump thump thumping. I could even feel the starchy hospital gown on my arms.
Words cannot express how proud I am of my baby girl, nor can they express how much I love and miss her. So I'm going to keep this short. I just wanted to let you all know (and for a reminder to myself) that it is Arianna's adoptive mom who made this day so bearable. I woke up to an email from her, telling me all about how much our daughter loved her party (and 'knew' the spot light was on her...that's my girl!), loved ripping her presents open and loved our generous and amazing gifts to her. She promised to send pictures of her in her pj's and on her Disney ride-on that I sent to her. She also told me that she unexpectedly had to work a longer day than usual today, so she would have to postpone the phone call. BUT, she made it up to me a thousand-fold: she asked me, if it was okay with me, could we do a Skype call tomorrow night instead? Hmm...YES, in fact, that would be fine with me! hahaha. So, all in all, I'm surviving the day. I know it's not over yet, but I have that Skype call to look forward to now (and I am SO looking forward to it). I'm sure I'll post tomorrow afterwards, and maybe get some screen shots if possible. Oh, and, she also told me she's officially walking! She just started going long distances (as in, across a room) this past week! That was part of the reason why she wanted to Skype, also, so I could see her walking. I love her family more than words can say.

Happy Birthday, my little princess! I may not be celebrating your day of birth by your side, but I celebrate it in my heart every single day...and today especially. I can still hear your first cry in my head as if it happened five seconds ago, I can still feel your silky jet black hair and hear you breathing beside me. I love you with all of my heart and my soul, and I thank you for all the ways you have helped me in your one year on earth. Some I will be able to tell you about, others you may never quite understand, but they are important nonetheless. You will always be my firstborn and my princess, and the biggest piece of my heart will always be yours. Happy Birthday, my love.

November

2011-11-01T17:54:00.030-04:00

Halloween's over. I can't say I'm as sad about this as I have been years before (and I don't just mean when I was little and went trick or treating), this year it just brought back bittersweet memories. Ones that I am not ready to face yet, even though I live with them every day. 365 days ago at this exact moment (5:58 pm), I had just gotten my epidural and I was trying to get some sleep. Married with Children was on, but it was just static noise...I wasn't paying a bit of attention to it, but preferred it to absolute silence. (For the record, I never watched that show to begin with, but I can promise that I will never watch it again!)

I had fears that I was going to have to have a c-section, as my doctor had come in just a few minute prior and told me that it was becoming more of a viable option at this point. I had been in labor for about 16 hours and they kept doing ultrasounds to make sure she was still head down. She was born twelve hours and 33 minutes later, avoiding a c-section. My little angel.

I still have mixed feelings as her birthday approaches. I feel overwhelmed, but I'm trying not to go to bed with any real intentions; I don't want to force myself to try to feel happy or force myself to feel sad. I just want to be. That's why I told my teacher I wasn't going to be in class, and told a woman I work with that, sorry, I couldn't cover for her on Wednesday. I need to use this day to focus on myself and look forward to my phone call to my baby girl.

I keep telling myself that I'll be okay (and I know I will be). I'm without her and I miss her, but I love her with all my heart, and that will get me through. My little girl saved me from myself, she saved my life, so the least I could do was try and save hers.

Trick or Treat . . . Laugh or Cry?

2011-10-31T15:50:00.113-04:00

Halloween - we meet again. I feel like I have so much to say, but the words are all jumbled up in my brain and they're trying to fit out of a space that's so small that they're wedging one another in. I'll try, though! Today has been a rough day, just for the simple fact that I am nostalgic by nature and every time I've looked at the clock today I've thought about what I was doing at this time last year. I went to the hospital around 4 a.m. on Halloween morning, only to come back home at 7 and pace the house for the rest of the day, with a heating pad on my back, trying to coax my little one into entering the world. I finally went back to the hospital around 8 or 9...there were a few straggler trick-or-treaters left but for the most part, they were all home already. I remember going up to the maternity ward and my hand was shaking as I signed the sign-in papers. I was terrified about the entire childbirth process and the physical pain, but the emotional pain that I knew was just around the corner disturbed me to the core. They brought me down the hall in a wheelchair (which I hated and thought was unnecessary, by the way) and as we went down the hall, I heard nothing but silence and then all of a sudden, a baby started crying loudly. A just-born baby. I don't know why, because of course it wasn't my daughter or anything, but I'll never forget that sound. Finally, they settled me in Room #6, and the rest is history. (Well, not history, but the rest is written out in detail in whichever post it is that I wrote out her whole birth story).

I can't believe that was a year ago. It's so fresh in my mind, and I hope it always will be...I just hope the memory stings a little less with each passing year. Tonight will be my little one's first official Halloween (even though she was with me last Halloween!) and she's going to be dressed up as a lady bug! I can't wait to see pictures! My next update should be an amazing one, because it will have her Halloween and Birthday party pictures in it. And let me say once again - I get to hear her sweet little voice in two days! I don't care if she even babbles anything remotely coherent, I just know any sound she makes will be like music to my ears.

I'm struggling a little right now. I'm fighting really hard to not break the promise I made to myself that I wouldn't be let down if her bio dad didn't contact me regarding gifts. (Don't get me wrong, it's not that I was looking forward to talking to him or anything. It's my daughter I feel for). I suppose it's none of my business whether he gets her a gift or not. Maybe he took my (rather harsh, at the time) advice and decided to send it through the agency. Who knows? (Well, I will, when and if C tells me to tell him thank you for the gift - which I know she won't, because I have a hunch there is no gift to say 'thank you' for). At the same time, though, he made it my business by bringing it up in the first place a month and a half ago. I didn't ask or put him on the spot, he volunteered his idea. He also made it my business when he said he may want to sign her card that I had for her. For all he knows, I'm still sitting around waiting to hear his decision before I go to the post office. What he doesn't know, though, and won't know, is that I already sent the package off in the mail on Thursday. The old me would have waited for him until the last possible minute; but I'm learning and accepting that he will never, ever step up and I can never count on him for anything (should I ever need to), so if I want to do something for our daughter, I need to do it on my own. Truthfully, I am fine and happier doing it on my own, anyways. I got her a gift and I wrote out her card with love, and that's all that matters. I cannot and do not control him and I do not have to deal with the consequences of his (lack of) actions. This is his daughter's first birthday! We have an opportunity to still have a connection with her and he chooses to ignore it. He's proven himself to be more of a loser than I had even thought. Whatever.

A few of my friends came over last night and we had pizza and cupcakes. It was a mix of a Halloween party and an 'in honor of her first birthday' party. I wish more people could have come, but all in all, it was a nice time. Quiet and relaxing, but most of all, it took my mind off things for a while. And when my mind wandered, my friends were there laughing to distract me yet again. I got Halloween colored balloons and pink balloons, along with a Mylar pumpkin balloon and a Mylar '1st Birthday' balloon. They looked so pretty. This morning, I set them off into the air (I was by myself, but I actually preferred it that way) and it was actually surprisingly cathartic to watch them float away until they were just teeny dots in the sky, and then eventually disappeared completely from sight. I told her that I hope she has an amazing birthday (even though it's not until Wednesday) and that I love her. It was really emotional, considering I was alone in my backyard just watching them and talking to myself, essentially. I didn't expect to really feel anything over it (good or bad), but I did. They didn't float away as 'perfectly' as I would have liked - they sort of tangled together and floated away in bunches rather than single balloons, but oh well. It's the experience that counts, right? (:

Now, onto a few pictures from last night and this morning:

"Halloween Funfetti" cupcakes in the making (:

And lastly, Halloween pj's I sent to my princess!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Ups and Downs, Ups and Downs

2011-10-26T20:00:00.002-04:00

My week thus far as been like a roller coaster ride. Actually, I got on the ride last Friday afternoon and here it is, Wednesday, and I'm still struggling to get my feet on the ground again. Friday, a little comment made by my mother was retorted (by me) with another little comment, which snowballed into the fight of the century. The fight was about the adoption in it's entirety (what else?), and I tried to explain that, while I know that I made the right choice and honestly do not regret it (I have my really hard days, but deep down I don't regret it), and knew in my heart that adoption was the right choice for her, I wish it had been more my own choice. I wish I hadn't felt cornered. It's not so much the fact that the end result would have been different (because it wouldn't have) but it's the principle. I never realized how frustrated it made me until I went back to therapy and my doctor kept asking 'where your parents supportive?' I would say yes (my mom was with me for all 2 days of my labor...that's supportive) and when she'd ask what they said about parenting vs. placing and I told her 'they said I couldn't live in their house if I were to bring her home with me,' I got the same look of shock and response of 'that's not supporting you' from her as I did from my first therapist last December. Now, let me say this again: had my parents said that I could live with them and they would help me with her financially and all of that jazz, I still would have chosen adoption for her. Her biological father still would have been the same. My lack of a degree still would have been the same, I just would have had a safe roof over my head and no rent to worry about. I could see my parents point of view, I really could. Why should they, approaching their fifties, have to basically 'raise' another child for the next year or more until I got on my feet? They shouldn't. But the point was their lack of, I don't know, understanding? I resent the fact that they told me that keeping her would be the 'biggest mistake I could ever make,' and 'getting pregnant was wrong, and keeping her will be wrong. you don't right a wrong with another wrong' and that if I were to decide to parent that I would have to do it somewhere else. Anywhere else, they didn't care where, just not under their roof. They knew I had nowhere to go. They knew that better than anyone else, yet still they said that; thus ultimately giving me no choice. I knew what the right choice was, but the point is that I wish I had felt that I had the freedom to make that choice on my own. I wish I hadn't felt like I had to make that choice. Does that even make sense? I'm not sure, but I guess I don't know any other way to explain it.
So, this began the biggest fight ever. My dad got involved and said some really harsh things, but later realized the way he worded what he said, and apologized and gave me a hug. I admit, I was still pissed that it had even come out of his mouth in the first place, but at least he apologized. Since then, we've been okay. A little tense, but isn't it always?
On Monday my therapist and I spoke about what I plan to do on my daughter's birthday, and honestly, I'm not sure. I told her that I sent an email to her mom on October 4 and hadn't heard back yet (I asked if I could call our little one on her birthday to say happy birthday in a more personal way than email) and God bless my therapist, because she pushed me to actually be a little more aggressive about the matter, because it's time-sensitive. I'm used to her mom writing back after a few days or even a week, I know she gets busy. It's always been that way from day one, so I don't usually worry or question it. But this had been about three weeks, so I was getting a little nervous. I worked myself into a frenzy, and told my doctor this, and she said "listen. They gave you their phone numbers, right? You told me they gave you their home and cell numbers. So, I want you to call her. It's not being pushy. It's been three weeks and this is something very special and important to you, so please call her. You can call me right after and tell me how it went," and that was the push I needed. I don't ever want to be annoying or overbearing, but like my therapist said, she could have read the email and just assumed that I was going to call, because no answer can usually mean yes (I'm not so sure I agree with that) or she got busy and totally forgot about it. I, for one, know I wouldn't want to let that opportunity go by because I was scared to ask a question, and push onward a bit more to get an answer.
Long story short(er), I was a little too nervous to just call out of the blue, so I sent her a text. She wrote back within less than an hour and told me she was in China on business right now but that it is absolutely fine with her if I would like to call, and she will email me the night she gets back (Thursday night) with a good time, so I can call while Arianna is awake and I can hear her on the phone (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!). My heart was about to beat out of my chest when I pressed send, but now I am SO happy that I sent it. And, in case you didn't notice, she is in China, hence why I never got a response to my first email. She's busy, not closing the door on our adoption forever (yes, my mind did go there one night around 2 in the morning).
I was so giddy all day over this. I can't wait. While I would love to actually see her on her birthday, a phone call and pictures is as close as I can get right now and I will take it for what it is and cherish it forever. I am so beyond happy about this.

I just finished writing in her birthday card, which was my mountain to climb today. I knew it would be hard, but it was easier than I thought. I just wrote what I felt. I didn't go too overboard (that's what her birthday letter is for), but I also didn't make it impersonal. I won't disrespect her privacy by writing it all out on here, but in part of it, I told her that she was a very special little girl to so many people, and that she should act like the princess that she is not only today, on her birthday, but everyday. I know she won't read/understand that til years from now, but I think it's sort of like closure for me rather than her right now. Gahhh, I'm just not ready for this. I didn't want to be picking out her birthday card with tears in the corners of my eyes or buying boxes to mail her gifts to her. I want to be buying the cake and decorations for her party and seeing, firsthand, how elated she is when she tears the paper off of the gift I got for her. But I suppose this is my cross to bear now, and I'm okay with that. As long as she is somewhere in the world with that elated smile on her face, tearing wrapping paper open with love surrounding her...I will be okay.

October 24, 2010

2011-10-24T09:55:00.002-04:00

A picture of me, taken on this very day last year:

I never thought I would miss my lower back hurting, the tops of my legs hurting, and having to hoist myself up with a death grip on the headboard just to turn over in bed. I never thought I'd miss getting up to pee 8 times a night, or craving fruit loops at 4 a.m....but I do. I miss my baby girl.

53 hours

2011-10-23T17:43:00.008-04:00

I keep thinking about the 53 hours that I spent with my daughter. The 53 minutes that I was her sole care-giver...the 53 minutes that she relied on me to change her diaper, feed her, snuggle her, rock her to sleep, find her binky and adjust her little hat every time it fell off. The 53 minutes that I was her one and only true mother (besides the 9+ months prior, of course). On the outside, I know I'm no longer a mother. I left the hospital with nothing to show for myself but extremely swollen and sore breasts, a few stretch marks, a box with momentos in it, and a heavy heart. I struggle daily with the fact that I feel like I'm her mother, yet know I'm not her mommy. There's a fine line between the two, but yet they're a world apart. Even if she grows up with me in her life and, say, wants to go to a college near me and asks to stay with me for a while on a school break or something - I still won't be mommy. The most difficult part of all of this is, while I want so badly to be her 'mommy,' and be that woman who is a essentially God in every child's eyes...I don't want to be, at the same time. I know C is her mom and despite the pain, nothing will make me happier than seeing them have an amazing bond together. I want my daughter to think of her as her only 'mommy,' I want that for both of them. I'm content being on the sidelines, being a mom in my heart but a 23 year old single girl on the outside. Do I wish, when I'm walking with friends around the park, that I was pushing my baby girl in a stroller in front of me? Of course I do. But do I wish that she had a stable house to blossom in and an excellent shot at a future? Of course I do - and I wish that even more. I wish it could have been me that could have provided that for her, but the cards were on the table and that was not what they had in store for either of us. I don't regret my decision, I'm just struggling with it right now. There is a difference. I hope it's the pre-1st-birthday blues, and I hope the post-1st-birthday blues don't last as long.
I think part of my problem is that I am reading too much on the internet and soaking in too many articles. You can find anything on the internet if you want, and you can even find things you don't want. I keep reading things about girls whose adoptions closed on them; the aparents slowly weaned off of the communication and then one day, just stopped completely. I let that fear and worry consume me until I count back the days since the last time I heard from C. It was October 4th, not even a month ago - but I somehow convince myself that the same will happen to me. Every situation is different, I know. I worry far too much. C and C are very trustworthy people (obviously, I trusted them to raise and love my child as their own) and they have never, ever done anything to make me think otherwise. She gets busy, and sometimes it takes her longer to respond than I'd like or sometimes the pictures don't come exactly once a month...but they always come. Even if I shoot her a quick email just to ask a question (about sending gifts, or calling on our daughter's bday), she responds and throws in a few pictures outside of the 'monthly updates.' They have been amazing to me, and I let my insecurities get the best of me. I never show this; I never give them any inclination that I have these fears. They know how much I love that little girl and how much I treasure any and everything they share with me regarding her, especially pictures, and so therefore they know how much it would kill me if they were to cut off contact. They have no reason to, because I, too, have been nothing but nice to them (at least I try!) I've never been demanding, overbearing, or pushy. I've thanked her endlessly for all she's done and she has done the same for me. So why am I scared? I guess it's because these are the only two people in the world, at the moment, that have the capability of shattering my heart into a million pieces. That puts me in a very vulnerable position. I remember once, during the aftermath of an argument, telling G that all we ever do is hurt each other. He told me he never meant to hurt me and knows I'd never mean to hurt him, so "why would you say that?" I told him that it's because it's the people we care about the most that are the most able to hurt us, because we invest so much emotion into them and their words and actions hurt a thousand times more than a stranger's would. The people we love know us...they know what we value in our hearts. That's sort of how I feel about my daughter's family - they, essentially, hold my heart in their hands when they hold that beautiful baby, and they are in more control of my feelings right now than I am. That's scary.

A gift and a curse

2011-10-22T16:51:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I am far too nostalgic. I barely remember when my homework is due, but I could tell you what the weather was like on the first night my daughter's biodad and I hung out. This October loomed in front of me like a black fog for all of September, so I managed to not only let my memory ruin one month, but two.

October 22, 2010...he and I went to the agency to talk over some things with our counselor and then he took me to see Paranormal Activity 2. I'd probably have forgotten that, had the 3rd one not come out yesterday. I want to see it (I'm obviously into cheesy horror movies) but I don't have the heart to actually go sit there and see it. This is what I mean when I say my memory is a both a gift and a curse. I let it consume me, I can't even go see the movie I want to see because I'm afraid that I'm going to get overwhelmed by the fact that I saw the first two with him and one of those was one of the last times we were together as THREE. Everyone would be screaming and I'd probably be crying. Maybe this is something I should make a written note of and talk about with my therapist. (I just re-read this paragraph and realized how insane it sounded, but oh well...I'm a bit insane at present, anyways). I think that's normal, to an extent - after a breakup or loss of any sort, who wants to go spend time someplace alone that they used to spend as a couple? I think, though, that I take it to an extreme.

In other news, I went to Target the other day to get a Halloween card for my princess. I went up and down the card aisles, looking for a Halloween card for a baby and most of them were for toddlers and young kids. I was hell-bent on finding one that was for a baby's 1st Halloween when bam:

Perfection! I was thinking of sending her birthday gifts and card and Halloween card all at once, in the same package, to avoid bombarding her parents with 2 separate things in the mail from me, but I think I'll hold off. I'll send the Halloween card within the next few days and her birthday gifts in a week or so. I have a few more final touches I need to get together for her big day.

And while I'm on the subject, I told her biodad that he has until a couple days before Halloween to give me whatever it is he wants to get her for her birthday. To be honest, I am waiting for his call, but I've already promised (maybe even publicly, on here) that I'm not calling him and not getting upset when and if he doesn't call. I never gave him an exact date, but I said the end of October and definitely before Halloween. He's a big boy, I think he can figure it out.

I was due to have my little angel next Friday, October 28. I'm so happy she decided to spend 5 more days snuggled up safe and sound inside my belly. I miss her so much, I miss her more than I'd miss oxygen if I were drowning, I swear. Fall will always remind me of her. (As if I need reminding)

My 5 Best Decisions

2011-10-18T19:05:00.000-04:00

Today was a better day. Not to say I'm over it by any means, and I'm still shaken up a little at the memory of how I felt last night, but I'm moving forward.

I was blog-surfing and came across this post by perhaps one of the most amazing 'blog moms,' Cecily. I want to be like her someday ;) Anyways, I totally loved the idea of thinking about and writing out my five best decisions, and in light of my irritable, bad state I've been in, I thought this would be a good way to think positively.

So, without further adieu, My 5 Best Decisions:

5.
Going to Fontbonne for high school. Granted, it was more my father and mother's decision than mine (I was given a choice between the 3 private Catholic high schools in the surrounding area and I finally landed on this one) and while I was there, I all but despised it. Actually, it was only sophomore year that I despised it, but I had things going on with myself at the time, which may have overshadowed my experience. And while I didn't want to go on to a traditional 4-year-college, this school still prepared me for that and more. It was rigid and tough at times, and more like a college than a high school in a lot of ways. The friends I made there my freshman year are still among my closest friends today.

4.
Never picking up smoking or drinking. Not only am I happy about this for a huge reason - the fact that I was far along when I found out I was pregnant and all of the doctors said she would still be fine, even with little to no prenatal care, just because I hadn't been a drinker - but also for a lot of small reasons. Part of me is sad that I never had the 'college experience' of leaving the dorm on weekends and getting so drunk I barely remembered my name, but part of me is glad I wasn't involved. I've been getting migraines since age three, and I never drank because I didn't need a reason to give myself a headache the next day! And don't get me started on smoking. I know everyone has their habits, their 'thing,' but that is one thing I have a hard time accepting. I've seen what it does not only to the smoker but to those around them and it would definitely be a deal breaker for me, in the dating world, if he was a smoker.

3. Leaving my job at the veterinary hospital. I didn't even realize how stressed out I was because of that one particular woman, until I got out of there. As if crying when I left work and throwing up on my way to work wasn't an indicator enough...I started sleeping better, and stopped constantly clenching my jaw all night. My money supply is running low, because I only work at the other vet hospital twice a month, but I'm managing. Luckily I own my car (thanks to my parents), so I don't have a payment anymore, which helps a lot. It was nice to have 'extra' money for a few months while I worked there, and it was nice to just buy things (especially for Arianna...gifts, etc) without thinking twice, but the money was not worth the stress.

2.
G. He was one of my best decisions in two different aspects: (So can I do a 2a. and a 2b.? hahaha) but really, meeting him, spending time with him, falling in love with him - that was one of the best decisions I've made. My relationship with him was a lesson I needed to learn, and I learned it the hardest way possible, but I see it as one of my best decisions because it has changed me for the better. I now know to go with my gut feeling, I now know to never let a man put me second or make me less of a priority to him than he is to me. I know to never make myself 100% available for each and everything a man wants, because in the end, it does not make him love you more, it makes him see you as essentially living and breathing for him, and over time, he will take advantage of this. And need I say the most obvious reason he was a good decision in my book? He gave me my little girl.
Now the other side of this coin is this - my other best decision was telling him he could not be part of my life going forward, once our daughter was born. That, too, was one of the hardest decisions I've made, and now..almost a year later..I can say with honesty that it was one of my best decisions. I still have days that I miss him so bad it hurts, but I snap out of those thoughts as quickly as I enter them. I must say, our break up might have been harder if I hadn't been thinking about and missing my daughter as much as I was (and have been). I always thought my world would end when he was no longer a part of it, but it's been like a double-edged sword, and I've had something else to preoccupy me with the realization that it's really real this time - he is gone out of my life.

1. My princess. I would love to say that the best decision I made was to choose life over abortion, but I can't. I didn't know about her until she was past 3 months, but I know that wouldn't have been the choice I'd have made anyway. (Easy for me to say now, right?) but it's true. I used to say that I didn't know what I'd do if I was faced with an unplanned pregnancy, but somewhere in the back of my mind and heart, I knew I could never go through with a procedure like that. And if I were to become pregnant again unintentionally, I still would not do it. I've seen the chest of someone I created rising and falling with each breath she took. I could never take that away from anyone. My best decision regarding her was placing her with her family. It may have been the worst decision for me, but it was the best decision for her, so that takes away some of the hurt on my end. I was blessed to feel the amount of love you feel for your child, even if I was only blessed with it physically for a few days, and I continue to be blessed by the fact that I still love her ten hundred times more than I love myself. I am thankful that I have someone to live for. No matter what, she was my princess before she was even conceived and she was my princess long before I even found out about her, and my princess she will be for always. My number one best decision can only be described in this photo, because a photo says more words than I could ever hope to.

I can only think of one word to describe this picture: Happiness.

Just Cry

2011-10-18T00:01:00.004-04:00

I wonder sometimes if what I'm feeling is normal. She is almost 1, shouldn't I feel at least a little bit letter by now? Better, not worse? I never cry. I've said that before. I hold it all in, bottle it all up, then get in my bed and toss and turn for hours and distract myself while I try to fall asleep. It's hitting me, hard. I knew this time of year would be hard. It's past midnight right now, so it's the 18th. The day I really got to see her face on the ultrasound. Since I was so far along when we found out about her, I rarely got a good view of her little face...it was always just her profile or a foot or hand here or there. This one, though, showed her beautiful face just the way it looked when she was born.
It just hit me all over again, just now. I was lying here and it came creeping up and I tried to think of something, anything, to distract me, to no avail. Thoughts of the way her hair smelled, the way her skin felt, the little suckling noises she made all night when she stayed in my room with me...they came swarming at me until I just gave in and cried. I cried until I felt like I was being torn apart from the inside out and then I cried some more. I don't know how I didn't wake anyone else in the house up. I cried until I threw up, then I opened my laptop and saw her toothy grin on as my background and cried all over again.
I didn't expect this to be easy - no one ever even suggested that it would be. I remember going for my 6 week check-up and when my doctor asked me how I was and how my daughter was and how I felt about her family, I burst into tears. She told me it was "perfectly normal" to still be teary about the whole situation, but that I was being strong. Well, is it still normal now? To relive it over and over until my body is heaving with tears? Is this what I get for repressing it for all this time, acting like I'm fine when I'm not?
Contrary to what the surface of my blog would tell you, I don't like to whine. I don't like when people feel sorry for me and I've never been one to sigh loudly and wait for someone to ask "what's wrong?" I don't like the attention, and when I'm sad, caring words and hugs only make me cry even more - plain and simple. Not that I'm not grateful for it, but I become totally introverted when I'm upset. I want to be alone and work it out myself. That's why I write, and the problem is that I'm not working it out. I live for updates from her parents and I live for that beautiful little girl's giant smile and when I see it (and only then), I am truly happy. I just miss her so much. I grieve not only her and her infancy but as she approaches a year old, I am grieving a whole new set of things that are now lost forever to me. I've already missed her first tooth, first steps, first word. I fear that it only gets harder from here. How do you grieve the loss of something you never had?
It seems that all of the professionals tell you the same thing: just cry. Let it out, and just cry.

One Year Ago

2011-10-13T11:58:00.034-04:00

What was I doing one year ago today? I was hearing the heartbeat of an angel and being terrified, while at the same time, falling in love with someone who actually deserved it. I was in the backseat of my daughter's father's car, as he drove us to my 9 a.m. ultrasound appointment. I was walking around in the Blue Hills with him, talking about our unborn child and our future, together and apart. I was spending the rest of the afternoon and night with him, still talking...talking...talking, all the while feeling my little girl bouncing around inside my belly. I was suddenly aware, and acutely aware. A decision had to be made, and one year ago today, that decision was still in my hands. I don't doubt my decision and wouldn't change it, but it brings tears to my eyes to know that just one short year ago, I still had the power to, had I wanted to. I still was innocent to the pain I would feel. I knew, but I didn't truly know. Today, one year later, I am sad over the simple fact that I lost so much of my naivety. I thought then that it was the hardest that it would be, I thought that teetering between the decision to parent or to place for adoption was the hardest spot to be in. Now, as her birthday approaches, I'm realizing that it can and will get harder. Or maybe, not necessarily harder, just never-ending. It's a once in a lifetime feeling, but not a one-time feeling.

"I will change if I must...slow it down, I will adjust" - Adele

2011-10-11T19:00:00.004-04:00

I'm hesitant to post this...you never really can tell who reads what. But here goes. I am prepared to get a decent amount of crap for this from any friends who know me and my daughter's birth father and all of the history tied to our relationship. Maybe I deserve it, maybe I don't, but I can't always worry about what others think of me. Yes, I know that my friends are only looking out for me and my heart and I am more than grateful for that - but sometimes people assume the worst when I simply say, "he texted me today," or something along those lines. It's automatically assumed that he's trying to get me back and that I'm tied right around his little finger again (and it's assumed within completely good reason, I have to admit), but it's not always the case.
This morning, for example, it was not the case. 3 weeks and 3 days...we made it 3 weeks and 3 days without speaking. It could be worse, but it could be a lot better, too. I'll start from the beginning. I sent him a text last night, telling him not to open any emails he got from my old email account, because it had been hacked and I saw about 90 emails in the outbox - it emailed every single person I ever sent an email to on that account, whether they were in my address book or not. I went back and forth on whether or not I should tell him, but then decided it would just be cruel if I didn't. He is very computer-illiterate and he's lucky he even knows how to check his email. So I knew he would open it without even realizing that it was a virus. He called back this morning, and I didn't answer. He left a message saying he appreciated me telling him but wanted me to call him back to tell him what the subject line of the email said (???), and to ask me something about our daughter's upcoming birthday. Again, I went back and forth and finally decided to call him back. He asked how I was and we went through all of the formalities (which in and of itself was a little sad for me, because our conversations used to be so much more natural), and I asked him if he wanted to see what I'd gotten for Arianna for her birthday. I told him I'd email him pictures if he wanted, because I thought it was best that we not meet up. He said that, yes, he would love to see what I got for her and asked what it was. I explained it to him, and composed myself, but somewhere along the way, I broke down into tears. (Like I've said before, I rarely talk specifically about her, and when I do, I try to detach my emotions. When it comes to him, though, he's someone who went through it with me and saw me at my worst and darkest moments. So I don't hold much back when we do talk, especially when we talk about our daughter). He said something then, like "I know you want to give her everything you can. I know you'd give her the world if you could," which only set me off crying even more. I didn't say much after that (it was only a 9 minute conversation, all-in-all, anyways) and I made it a point to not ask if or when he was going to have the gift he said he wanted to get ready to be sent to her. He had mentioned it to me a while back, and said he would call me in October to figure out how to get it to her. After a minute or so, he asked when I was sending the gifts to her. I told him that I wasn't sure, but definitely sometime during the last week in October, and definitely before Halloween. I know she won't know that they got there in time for or on her actual birthday, but it's something that matters to me. After I answered him, he said "ohhhhh...okay. Well if it's okay with you I'm gonna call you before then - so probably within the next two weeks or so. Did you or are you going to get a card for her?" I told him that I hadn't yet, but planned to. Honestly, I didn't know how to handle it....I don't know how to handle it. I always thought of he and I as a unit - "her biological/birth parents," and only recently have I realized that it doesn't have to be that way (it isn't that way). I guess, in the back of my mind, I've thought that (from her perspective) it would be nice if we did 'joint' things for her, but at the same time I've also recently acknowledged that his actions are not my responsibility. Part of me wants to just do my own thing (which I've been doing) and let him worry about his own thing. That's why I wasn't sure if I wanted to share with him what I bought for her. It's between she and I and her family - not him. I went out, did what I wanted to do, bought what I wanted to buy and will send it when I want to send it. Right? But then there's the softer side of me that says, 'okay, if he wants to reach out and he wants to buy her a gift for her birthday, I figured I could try to include him by sharing what I've gotten for her, and by helping him get it to her.' I guess that's Miss Nice showing her face again (who knew I had any Nice left in me? hahaha). Anyways. I think the last thing that I said to him was this: "I don't know how I'm supposed to handle this, especially with it being the first year. Her first birthday. I've done what I wanted to do, in respect to her birthday, so it's up to you to do what you want to do for her, if anything. I will be here to help you by getting it to her for you if you want, because this isn't about you and I, it's about her." He agreed and said we'd talk later. It was an okay conversation, and I think I ended it well. I let him know that I am not waiting around for him to step up and want to be more involved, and that I am doing just fine on my own when it comes to our little girl...while also trying to be the bigger person and tell him that I am willing to help, but making it clear that it's only because it's also 'helping' her.
As I've said, I know I will probably get a ration of crap for being so nice to him after all of the BS we have been through. But what needs to be said is this - that conversation right there, was actually me holding my ground, for once. It's sad to admit and I am not proud of it, but the old me would have been offering to go shopping with him, offering to help him pay for it, or just downright going and buying something myself and saying it was from him. I don't need to justify my interactions with him, but I did take a giant step back from my "old self" today.
What a lot of people don't seem to understand is that I do not want to be on bad terms with him, I really don't. I was (am) hurt by him, I was (am) angry with him, and I was (am) very vulnerable when it comes to him, which is why I need to really keep my guard up. A simple friendship between us would be far too much for us to handle right now (and maybe ever). Another thing a lot of people don't get is, just because we chose adoption for our daughter and she is not physically 'in our lives,' a relationship still exists between us because of her, whether we are in a relationship, friends, or not even speaking to one another. That tie is still there, it did not go away when she went to live with her family. She did not take that with her and leave nothing but an empty space in it's place. Is it actively there every single day, the way it would be if we parented her and we had to talk on the phone every weekend to arrange pick-up and drop-off times? No, it isn't, but it is still there. Even during the times that I was the most hurt by him after she was born, there was still a spot in my heart for him. It may be tucked away into a small corner, but it's there. Most people want me to forget about him, never speak to him again, and let him go through the agency if he wants to, because he's a big boy. They think I should hate him. I agree completely with all of the above, but it's hard to explain to someone who hasn't had a child, and maybe even moreso to someone who has never gone through the adoption process with the father of said child. I don't mean to put myself on a pedestal or act as if "I know something you don't know, nana-na-na-nana!," but it's easy to imagine the love you'll feel for your child until you have that child, and you realize that your ruminations about it didn't even begin to break the iceberg. Because of my child, I love him. It's easy to tell me to look past that, and realize that it's her that I love and not him...but he made her possible. And to top it off, the hardest and most emotional moments of my life were spent with him, shared with him and shared by him, too. I will never deny the bond that exists between us for all of those reasons, but I will also never deny the fact that he is no good for me.
So, that's the long-winded version of why I am apprehensive to post this. People are quick to judge why I'm even giving him the time of day, and I suppose that's because they only hear my side of the story. They only see me crying and hear me hurting, and therefore only want to hurt him for me. But I'm not perfect. I've done things wrong in the past and if he and I could go back in time and change anything, there's a lot that we would change. I learned a lot from him and our relationship, though, and I will never regret being with him because regretting that would be like regretting my daughter, and that couldn't be further from the truth.
I've asked myself a few times where I see our interactions with one another in five years. Will we not speak at all? Only speak when we get updates from her parents? I have no idea. I don't believe that we will ever fully lose touch, because no matter what he's done in his past or said to me to hurt me, I know he loves that little girl and it would kill him to be completely out of the loop. Ideally, I would like to consider myself, by age 28, to be mature enough to speak to him on a need-to-know basis and consider ourselves 'friends,' in a way, when it comes to our child. I don't mean I want us going out to dinner or calling just to say hi, I just mean I hope we can reach a point where we have a civil relationship and can talk about our love for the photos and the one thing we will always have in common - our daughter. Call me crazy, but there it is in black and white - that is what I want. We are not ready for that right now, though. It's still too fresh and too raw; and still so blatantly obvious that I am still hurting over what happened between us (not just regarding the baby, but our relationship as a whole) and that he seems to have moved on. I resent him for a lot of things and still blame him for a lot of things, right or wrong. And my feelings for him are still too deep, and still teeter a little too close to the edge of 'romantic.' I may still be easily swayed, although deep down I know what I need and what's best for me.
One day, I do hope to be able to think of him without wanting to bash my head (or his) into a wall. I'm working on it. I believe that, if I look past the 3+ years I spent with him and really, truly get over him, we can have a decent "birth parent" relationship with each other. Enter cliche: only time will tell what will happen.
I promise, here and now, to myself, that I will not contact him again though (regarding her birthday), or anything else for that matter. Let's see if he steps up to the plate and calls me within a reasonable amount of time and asks me to send his gifts to her. If he doesn't, I need to remember that it's his loss, not mine, and that I only have to own up to my own actions. I do not have to explain his actions to anybody. He now knows when I plan to mail them and knows what he needs to do. It's in his hands now. I need to drop my 'control-freak' nature and let him do what he will do. And if her birthday goes by with no word from him - then fine, so be it. Again, that's in his hands, not mine. I will silently act as if it never happened (and by silently, I mean I will more than likely rant and rave to the online community). I will sleep well at night, knowing that I took full advantage of every opportunity I was given to stay as close as possible with my daughter. Is that selfish?

I heard this song today on the radio in some random store, shortly after I spoke with him. I know it's about death (or at least that's how I interpret it) but still, it fit...

"I'm sorry for blaming you for everything I just couldn't do, And it's so hard to say goodbye when it comes to this..."

In other, non-birth-father-related news, I stumbled across an envelope from the agency yesterday. (By stumbled across, I mean I felt sad, so I sat on my bed and went through her memory box, in which I've stashed away any and everything having to do with her or that she touched). It was a big manilla envelope that was sent back in December of last year, but that I never opened. Inside was about two dozen pictures or so...ones that the adoption counselor took of she and I when she came to meet us at the hospital, and ones that were taken during the interim period when my daughter was at the 'agency foster' home, the home of the woman who took care of babies until the bio mom made her final decision, if she didn't sign immediately upon leaving the hospital but couldn't emotionally handle having the baby live with her until she decided (which I didn't and couldn't. If she came home with me, I would have never let her go). I didn't even cry when I looked at them, which I considered to be a big step. It was hard, though, because all of the pictures were dated. I kept thinking, "this is what my baby was doing on this day, and this day, while I was home crying and agonizing over knowing that the right thing to do was going to be the thing that killed me."

I want to share just one of the pictures. She was six days old in this picture, and her eyes were still a grey-ish blue. I can't begin to explain how much I adore her :)

Random birthday thoughts and other ramblings...

2011-10-09T14:14:00.000-04:00

First off, before I dive into the conundrum of thoughts I have about how exactly to honor my daughter on her actual birthday, I want to share this list with you. It's a list of "What Not to Say to a Birth Mother" and while it's short, it's to the point. Please read it (especially if you're one of my friends who reads this and hasn't placed), I would greatly appreciate it. It's directed to absolutely no one in particular, but I'm sharing it just the same.

Side note: I am still uncomfortable with the term 'birth mother,' I just don't know what else to say. 'First' mother makes me feel like I'm referring to myself as someone who comes first while her adoptive mom comes second (which is so far from the truth it's not even funny - it's been the reverse since the day I signed the papers). Simply calling myself a mom also isn't true, because in my heart I feel that a 'mom' is someone who is taking care of and providing for her child - which I am not doing. I suppose I could simply call myself a mother, but that's not entirely true in every sense, either. So I'm left no other option, I suppose, other than to just give in and think of myself as a 'birth mother.' I just feel as though I did so much more for my daughter and that I had a much more significant role in her life than just the task I was given of giving birth to her. I feel like I'm stuck in the middle, as are all of you other women who have placed. We were more than just a warm belly for our children to grow in and their passageway into the world, we were their nurturers for 10 months, no matter how long we knew we were pregnant with them for. I was her sole provider and responsible for her life in every way, shape and form, during the most formative months of her life. I made her. I loved her more than life itself, and still do. So no, I'm not just a birth mom. I'm not her mommy, either. She won't come running to me the first time she scrapes her knee, she won't bring me home pictures she draws in kindergarten, she won't take G to father/daughter dances. But this is the way it was meant to be. I think words and labels make it harder. I know who I am to her, I can feel it in my heart, but there are no words to express it, because I didn't just birth her, but I'm not taking care of her.

I will never refer to my daughter as my birth daughter, though. I don't mean any offense to anyone who has chosen adoption and chooses to refer to their child as their birth child, but personally, I will never do it. I have so much respect for the people around me, because while I've never personally told them not to call her my birth daughter, no one ever has. I cherish each and every single one of my friends, because they call her by her name, they ask how she is, yet still respect that I might not always want to talk about her, and there are things I may have to omit out of respect for her family. While I consider her my daughter, I also consider the information I am blessed to learn about her on a monthly basis to be information that is not mine to fully disclose. I don't know who reads this, I don't know if only one of you does or if all of you do, but thank you all for the respect you've had towards me and the situation. I love you all.

I've decided against doing a butterfly release. It may be too cold in November, and I feel bad for the butterflies (this is the animal lover in me coming out). I don't like the idea of them being 'raised' in little boxes, only to be shipped out and then set free into the wild, where they're destined to die. Don't get me wrong, I think it's a beautiful idea...but like I said, the animal activist in me is telling me that I'd feel overwhelmingly guilty. So - balloons it is. Orange, black, pink, and maybe white balloons. And if you're wondering why I'd incorporate orange and black if her birthday's in November, please refer back to my 835 other posts about how I went into labor with her on Halloween and how much I love Halloween, hahaha.

One last thing! I got an A on my paper that I wrote for my psych class this past Wednesday. I went back and forth on the idea of posting it here, and decided not to. But I still may, who knows? The paper was on who or what I'm most committed to in life and how this commitment has shaped and molded my identity. Of course I wrote about my commitment to my daughter and keeping in touch with her family and how this has given my identity a complete make-over. I also incorporated how she, herself, has given me a whole new identity - the identity of a 'mother,' whether I'm providing for her and nurturing her or not.

I wonder if I got an A because of my writing skills and content, or because my teacher was afraid that I'd cry if he gave me a bad grade on such an emotional, sensitive paper... :)

Enjoying nature, as directed!

2011-10-06T14:19:00.001-04:00

Being friends with my daughter's mom on Facebook has it's very high perks and also very low disadvantages. She doesn't update very often at all, but every now and again she posts pictures which I love to see. The majority of them are ones she has already sent to me just a few days prior to posting them, but a few are new to me, which is a nice surprise! I can see what friends and family write on her wall, which gives me even more insight and confirmation that she is the type of person I thought she was, which I also love. I know that, with it being almost 11 months into the adoption, that she is a person true to her word. However, it's nice to see it spelled out for you by third parties who don't even know you are reading what they write. I don't know if she's told her family that the 'Elizabeth' on her friends list is her daughter's biological mom or not. I haven't commented and probably won't, but if I do, I'll never say "OH MY GOSH....she has her father's eyes!," or anything else that is a dead giveaway that I am connected to their daughter. I will never write on her wall, other than maybe on her birthday next year (we weren't FB friends on her birthday this year). I am honored that she let me into her 'life' in this way..I know you can easily make your life seem however you damn well want to on Facebook, and share only what you want to share, but it is still an even more personal glimpse into their lives. I will admit, it hurts a little when she has 30 comments on one picture that are all some variation of "she's goregous," "what beautiful hair!" "what a cute outfit," "I can't wait to see her again," you get the idea. It stings even more to see "your little girl is so beautiful," because I can't help but feel like I get no credit for her existence. Then I wake up and realize how irrational I'm being. She is her little girl! Adoption has made her their little girl, and it would be foolish of anyone to say, "your little girl is so beautiful, thanks to her birth parents!" SERIOUSLY? That totally takes away from C and C who deserve the praise. Sure, 23 of my chromosomes and 23 of G's chromosomes made her into who she is physically, but they are the ones raising her...which holds so much more value. I guess it's only natural and instinctual for me to get a little possessive when someone compliments her beautiful eyes or hair or smile. But I should see the compliment as a good thing, right?!

A month or so ago, when C first asked me to be her FB friend to share videos and things with me, I was looking at her profile. Again, it was like a slap in the face but a slap that I saw coming. I felt like I was cracking up a little so I sent my friend a text, saying that I couldn't bear to see the messages saying "congrats on the new addition to your family," and "I heard the great news, you're so blessed to have a little girl!" etc. This is what she replied with - "my love, that is insanely hard to read and not let it affect you. i know it seems that people don't realize your role/part, but C knows of course, and one day Arianna will. I can't imagine how you feel, but if you can focus on the good, like how happy she is and how people adore her and fall in love with her, you can emphasize your involvement in tht way, and know she is that loveable because of you - think about what in her magnetizes people to her...its you. and they are lucky to witness and share in that love." (I have the best friends in the world.)

I logged in just a few minutes ago and someone had posted something on her page about not being able to wait to come visit in a few weeks for Arianna's birthday and how she can't wait to "hug and kiss her neice and nephew!." It hit me, hard. This 'stranger,' who I've never met, is calling my daughter her neice. It's such a hard thing to get used to; although there's nothing there to really get used to, because this is the way it's been since she was born. She has been C's daughter since she was born. She has never and will never know anyone else as an "aunt," even when and if she is a part of my life again physically, because I don't have any sisters. To Arianna, this is not a stranger, this is now her aunt not by blood but by love. I know this, I am fully aware that just because they aren't blood relatives of hers, that they are her relatives none the less, even much more so than mine and G's family are her relatives. It's just hard, sometimes, to see it in black and white like that. It's just a simple, innocent and friendly statement made by someone who loves this beautiful little girl as her neice, but it digs a rusty nail through my heart. I know it will get easier in time. You're probably thinking, "then don't look at her Facebook, simple as that." Ha, that is so much easier said than done. It's like when your ex gets a new girlfriend and you don't want to see all the mushy lovey dovey stuff they write on each other's pages, but you look anyway because not looking drives you insane. Or like a car wreck. I could go on and on with the analogies, so I'll stop there.

My first therapy appointment went about as well as can be expected. I went into it with a whole different attitude this time....I went into it truly wanting it to help me, truly hoping for some type of coping mechanism that can help me to want to get out of bed every day. The first appointment was, for all intents and purposes, like an interview. She asked the basic questions and then she dug a little deeper. She asked me if I had suffered a loss recently, to which I replied yes (I remember saying 'no' in my first round of therapy last fall and then when the story of my daughter came out she said "that is a loss," so this time, I reformed my answer). She then asked me who, and I said 'my daughter.' Her face crumbled and she said 'your daughter??' I then said, 'I chose adop--' and the water works began. I got the words out, but not before I became a blubbering mess with mascara running down my face. I rarely cry when I talk about her, because I shut that part of my brain off when I talk about her. I remove myself emotionally, somehow, so I can talk about her and seem 'fine.' Now I realize how unhealthy that was. In that room with the doctor, I knew I could (and was supposed to) let myself really feel how I felt. That's why I write so much. I just write and write and write and don't stop to think about how what I'm saying actually feels. But when you're speaking, it's a lot harder to do that.

We talked about Arianna, my pregnancy, my relationship with her father, and my relationship with my parents. Well, we touched on that last one. You can only talk about so much in an hour, and by the time the initial questioning was over, it was more like 35 minutes. Each subject that we talked about she said we would have to 'come back to' throughout my time with her because they were all major things. She also told me that she felt that my emotional instability began long before I had the baby and even before I got pregnant, they began sometime during my relationship with her father. She asked me if I knew deep in my heart that things weren't working out but I kept clinging on to it, and I told her yes, because I can almost pinpoint the time when things started going downhill. It wasn't a specific event or argument or anything, but it was about a year and a half into the relationship and I was just tired. Just tired of almost every aspect of it, but scared to lose him completely and scared to change. I walked out of there with the diagnosis "clinically depressed," and instructions to (1) spend time out doors at least once a day, for at least 20 minutes. This means I can go for a short walk, go for a bike ride, or just be outside reading or thinking (this is also good because I needed a little bit more of a boost to get off my butt and exercise). And (2) to call the doctor I am the most comfortable talking to, whether it's my OB/GYN or my primary care physician, so that I can get on an anti-depressant. I told her that I was taking my fluoxetine again and she said that maybe it's time for me to try something new and suggested I see a doctor that can prescribe medication (she is a LICSW, not a psychiatrist). She also told me that depression, at the level she thinks I have it, can actually not only affect you mentally but physically stops your metabolism. So, now I have an answer as to why I've gained back some of the 'baby weight' I lost, and why I feel miserable about my appearance.

I love my primary care physician, however I truly, truly cannot say enough good things about my OB/GYN. She is a nurse practitioner and when my mother first found out that was who I was going to see for my first internal during the pregnancy (not my first internal ever, but my first with the baby), she called and requested that I see a "doctor," because of how far along I was and because she was, understandably, freaking out, too. They told me that the soonest a doctor could see me was a few weeks out, and we needed answers then. We needed to know exactly how far along I was, I needed another ultrasound for measurements, etc. I wound up seeing the nurse practitioner rather than a doctor and I fell in love with her. She was visibly pregnant but it didn't bother me at all. She was the sweetest doctor I've ever had. When I went for my 6 week check-up after Arianna was born, she asked me how I was doing and genuinely cared about my answer. She had tears in her eyes as she asked me if I loved the family I chose and told me that I was one of the strongest women she knew. She also gave me her direct line and told me to call at absolutely any time that I needed her and if a nurse intercepted the call because she was in an appointment or for whatever reason, to tell them that she gave me permission to ask the nurse to politely pull her out of a room and speak with me. That is going above and beyond, and I will forever appreciate it.

When I called to schedule the appointment, the receptionist was a bit short with me. I requested an appointment with this specific doctor, and she told me, "Dr. so-and-so can see you much sooner," and I told her I'd rather wait. She asked what the appointment was for and I said "Just a consultation for a prescription." She told me I was 'overdue' for my annual, and asked when the last time I had a pap done was. I told her it was in April when I got my IUD and she said that in her computer, it says that my last one was before the baby was born. Okay, whatever, I told her I'd have the exam done too (might as well kill two birds with one stone...or with one co-pay). Then she says, "what's the prescription for?" and I told her it was for an anti-depressant. She tells me that the NP won't prescribe me an anti-depressant, and I told her that she did after I had my daughter, and she then asks what the medication was. I don't think that was any of her business, but I was trying to be friendly, so I told her that I 'thought' it was for Prozac. She responds, "hmm, ok, but that was most likely for PPD or to try to prevent the onset of PPD." At this point, my voice started cracking because I was trying not to cry (I hate confrontation and arguments of any sort, even teeny ones like this, and I was also crying thinking of how sweet this nurse practitioner was and how I just wanted to skip the middle-man and see her ASAP, because I knew she'd understand). I told her that "she told me to call any time I needed to and she would see me and help me in any way she could." This shut the receptionist up and she said "hows Oct 25?" and I said "perfect," and that was that. I didn't even look at my calendar, but I'll clear anything else to go see this woman and take that next step towards getting better.

I spent a good deal of time this morning outside, as I was instructed to do. I went to Houghton's Pond which is sort of near my house, and I told myself to be in a good mood while I was there. I started going there with Arianna's bio dad four years ago last month. That was where we had our first 'date,' and the first place he kissed me. We have a special spot there that we deemed 'ours,' and I still think of it that way to this day, four years later. I didn't go that deep into the Blue Hills...I'm not ready to be in that spot again just yet. I was sitting on the giant rock that we used to sit on together while we just looked at the stars and talked (it's so romantic I could almost vomit), and it was hard not to be flooded with those memories. This is the time of year we started going there, we spent almost every Saturday and Sunday night there during the entire Fall, until it started to get too cold to go anymore. I'm determined to make that be just a place to go and be alone and think, without the memories overshadowing the peacefulness of the lake and the trees. I want to overlap those memories I shared with him with new memories, happy memories, of a place I can go to work on myself.

I took a few pictures to illustrate just how beautiful it is there, especially in the fall. I was so upset that I didn't have my *real* camera with me, so I had to use my cell phone camera. Excuse the quality!

The view from the side opposite our old little 'nook and cranny' which is inside that mass of trees in the background

The view from the highest point on this side of the lake

FINALLY.... time for Uggs and hoodies!

The lake, and clearly, my shoes :)

I love this one because of the contrast in the greens and oranges (which looked so much more beautiful in person, as always)

Crunchy leaves :)

And, finally, a picture I took one day that I was there with her birth father. I took this with my old cell phone, and I think it was taken in May but I uploaded it to Facebook on November 2, 2007. Really, of all days??...

Hmm...

2011-10-05T21:56:00.001-04:00

With all this sad news fluttering around about Steve Jobs, I came across an interesting article about him. He died so young, and my prayers go out to his family.

Amidst all of the news, I discovered a book that is now a "must-read" of mine.

"But that personal life -- he was given up at birth for adoption, had an illegitimate child, was romantically linked with movie stars -- was full of intrigue for his fan base and Apple consumers.

He had a biological sister, Mona Simpson, the author of such well-known books as 'Anywhere But Here.' But he did not meet Simpson until they were adults and he was seeking out his birth parents. Simpson later wrote a book based on their relationship. She called it 'A Regular Guy.'"

I quoted that from this article.

I'm intrigued...

OAR #30 (my first!)

2011-10-05T19:26:00.025-04:00

Do you remember the first time you heard about open adoption?

I vaguely remember hearing, when I was 7 or 8 years old, that I had an older cousin who was adopted. I didn't quite grasp the concept back then, though, and I remember being confused because he looked so much like his adoptive mother and father. I never asked any questions, and never really gave it a second thought.

I'm a little ashamed to admit this (haha) but I think the first time I really heard about open adoption was on 16 & Pregnant (yes, I used to watch that show...gah). It was Catelynn and Tyler's story and once again, I didn't give it too much thought. I was pretty indifferent. I remember crying when she was looking at her baby and crying in the hospital, but I only looked at the surface layer of it. Honestly, I remember ignorantly thinking, "why are they going through with this if they're so sad?" (I'm also ashamed to admit that). I'm trying to wrack my brain here, but that's really the first time I can remember hearing about open adoption in so much depth. I did go on to watch their story on Teen Mom (the first season - I can't really stomach any of their stories any more) and I learned more and more about it through that series. Granted, I know it's a bit made-for-TV, but their story has a lot of similarities not only to mine, but to others that I've read and heard about.

So, as uninteresting as that may be, that was the first example of open adoption I have been exposed to!

Time to start buying...

2011-10-03T14:03:00.027-04:00

...Arianna's birthday gifts! I can't believe I'm even writing those words down already. How is it October already? This is one of three of my favorite months, but also might be one of the hardest. As I've said, I remember dates like the back of my hand. Last October 13th - ultrasound, decided I wanted to know if she was a little girl or little boy (I had a gut feeling she was a girl!) October 18th, ultrasound. 10/16, adoption counselor comes over and shows me books, and the first one I saw was the one I stuck with all along! 10/19, NST and another ultrasound. 10/22, her birthdad and I went to the agency for counseling. 10/30, he and I met her family for the first time. Halloween...I went into the hospital with very early labor pains and the rest is history. (Not history, but you know what I mean!) It's so unreal, so surreal still in some ways. I won't even go into the dates in November...can't look that far ahead yet.

But I digress, because this post was supposed to be me sharing my happiness for one of the gifts I picked out!
I had planned on getting her the piggy bank, but I'd rather wait until I have enough money to buy it on my own without having to borrow from my parents or anyone else. Plus, it takes 3 - 4 weeks to ship and her birthday could very well be here and gone by the time I receive it and then ship it to her house. So, I found this beautiful snow globe (I have an affinity for all snow globes and water globes, I've always loved them) and had it engraved this morning. I can pick it up this evening. This is it:

"Every little girl loves the story of a princess, and our silver-plated carriage brings the story to life in looks and music. The magic starts when you put her photo inside and engrave a message on the outside. And it continues by playing Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo, introduced in the 1950 Disney classic, 'Cinderella.' This is an ornately designed gift that includes pink enamel on the body and wheels and even on the tiny crown atop the water globe."

I'm going to put the very first picture that was taken of her, the very minute she was born, inside of the globe. I picked out a pretty cursive font and it's going to say her first and middle name and then underneath that it will read "Happy First Birthday" with a little squiggly line and hearts underneath. I wavered back and forth on whether or not I wanted to write "Love, Elizabeth" on it, too, but I figured that might be too pushy. I hope that her mom will keep it out on her bureau or dresser or something, and she may not want my name right there in everyone's face. Then again, I'm sure she wouldn't mind at all, and would think it was beautiful either way. I just would rather leave it open so she can choose who she says the gift is from if someone asks. I trust in my heart that she will always tell 'our' (her) little princess who the gift is from, and that's all that matters to me. Having my name on it might sort of cheapen it in a way (at least to me)...it's like saying "hey, don't forget this is from me. Don't forget who I am!" So...that's how I came to that conclusion.

I had a little test of strength at the store, though. The woman asked me what the occasion was, was it for a baby shower, a christening, or what? I told her it was for a 1st birthday and left it at that, and she smiled and went about her work. I filled out the paperwork regarding what I wanted engraved on it, etc. and as she read it over she said "this will be so nice, so beautiful. She'll love it! Mum will too!" I cringed a little but caught myself and just smiled and said thank you. I started to get upset as I walked out of the store... I could just feel it coming. Inside I was screaming "I AM HER MOM!," and wishing over and over that I had said that to the lady. Then I realized...why? That woman forgot about me two seconds after I walked out of the store, so why does it matter whether or not she knows my relationship to the little girl that the gift is for? Then I also realized - what she said was actually perfectly fitting. Her mom will (hopefully) love it. Maybe this is a good thing, maybe I am making more progress emotionally than I had previously thought. Oh, and speaking of progress, my therapy appointment is tomorrow at 4:00. Wish me luck!

Question!

2011-10-01T21:07:00.001-04:00

Does anyone know of a store (actual store or online store) where I can buy a book that I can fill in myself with information about myself and my little girl's birthfather? I swear I have seen a children's book before that birth parents can write in to give to the child as a gift.

I'm really wracking my brain for gift ideas for her first birthday, because I see it as the most "special" one.

I want to get her something she can play with now, like a toy, something she can keep for a while, like an engraved piggy bank or something (I have my eye on a Tiffany's one, but it's $275 before engravement...eeek!), and something she can keep forever...which is the letter I am working on for her.

Her biological father told me he wants to get her a necklace and get it engraved so she can have it when she's older and still make use of it, unlike a doll or something, which would eventually be ruined and given away. I suppose that's a nice idea, but I don't know when or how this new leaf of his has turned over. Oh well.

So, if anyone has any idea where I could find that, I would so greatly appreciate it! (If it even exists..hey, I may very well have dreamed it...) I've been googling for the past hour and can't find anything like it! Bleh.

Release

2011-09-30T16:16:00.013-04:00

I think I needed to cry today. I went to class, came home, and got straight back into bed. This is so unhealthy. This is so not me. So, I went digging and found the adoption book that Arianna's adoptive parents put together for prospective birth moms (my agency let me keep it, and if any don't, I highly recommend that they start). I've been half-heartedly looking for it for a while now, because sometimes I like to be reassured about my decision. I don't necessarily need that reassurance, but there have been times when I want to see if what went through my head last year will go through my head again this year. I've never been able to find it, though. It wouldn't fit in her memory box so I tucked it 'somewhere' for safe keeping...which you all know means 'the place things go with the best intentions, but end up getting lost.' Hahaha. Anyways, I found it. I read it again, and after the first three sentences I was in tears and couldn't make out the words anymore, so I skipped to the pictures. I vaguely remembered the apple picking picture, which I think I mentioned in one of my last posts, but that was really the only one I remembered. Well, lo and behold, the waterworks began when I saw a picture of her adoptive mom, with their adopted son, feeding the goats at the apple picking farm. One of the pictures she sent me this past Monday was identical - only minus their son and plus their daughter. I think they were even the same freaking goats. How long do goats live? Because I'm 99.9% sure all six of them were the same as last year. To top it off, she dated the picture in the adoption book and that photo was taken on the very same day that I first made the call to the agency to look into adoption. How weird is that?

Needless to say, I got my fill of re-reading and looking at that book, and it's going away for a while again now. It was a little hard, because the last time I saw or read it, she was in my belly...I still had a choice. Granted, I would make the same one again for her, especially now that I know the outcome, I know her family has fulfilled all of their promises thus far, and I know her smile is no less than ear-to-eat in almost every picture.

I just needed to release some of what's been swirling around in my head (and heart) for a while now...and now I know a surefire way to do it.

Thankful

2011-09-29T19:38:00.006-04:00

With tomorrow being what would have been our 4th 'anniversary,' and me feeling like I've missed him more than usual today purely because of this, I've decided to make a list of things I am grateful for and lucky to have! His name has been scratched off the list this year, never to be put on it again (although last I heard, he seems to think we will be together again sometime in the future. RIGHT. I made the same mistake a few times, but I'm not dumb enough to make it again).

I am grateful, above almost everything else, for my parents. I may not say it a lot, or even show it a lot, but I truly am. I am equally grateful for the open adoption I have with my daughter's family; I am so blessed to not only be able to know their last name, but to have an address and phone numbers. I am honored that they trust me with this information, and while I know that there are obvious legalities holding me back, I feel so comforted knowing that they don't think so low of me that I would try to come 'see' her uninvited or anything like that. The trust that they have in me means more than the world. I am lucky to have had a healthy, uneventful pregnancy and a beautiful, healthy, alert 8 pound baby. (I am even more lucky that she was a girl ;) which is what I would have chosen, if anyone ever had a choice in the matter).

Although her biological father and I aren't on speaking terms at the moment, and I am not his biggest fan(and he has acted like a 12 year old at times, and he says things without thinking......you get the idea), I am still grateful for the fact that he does care about her. He can say hateful things to me, hell, he can even hate me, but I know he loves and cares about her. It's just a feeling I have, and he has shown it...I don't say a lot about it on here, because of course it's easier to complain than it is to praise someone. But he has and does. I am thankful that he wants to get her birthday gifts and that he has written to her and that he can't wait for the day he gets to see her again. That means more to me than my own relationship with him ever did. It's easy to see him as the 'bad guy,' and I should apologize for that, for what it's worth. I know he doesn't read this, but still. Yes, I do feel anger towards him and I was hurt by him, but at the end of the day, I care more about how he treats his daughter (by 'treats' I mean the way he talks about her, the way he is eager for pictures, the way he talks about contacting her and meeting her again, etc.) than I do about how he treats me (like shit, for the most part).

Moving on! I am thankful that I am able to continue my education; I am thankful for my parents so willingly helping me pay for it, also.

Hmm...what else? It all comes back to my little one. I am thankful that she is here, period. Wherever she may be. I am thankful for her coming into my life, even if she was only part of it physically for a short time. Her short time with me has made an impact that will last forever.

Four walls

2011-09-28T15:28:00.012-04:00

Children, adoption, babies, pregnancies, etc. seem to be everywhere I go lately. I feel like I'm surrounded by four walls with those four words painted all over them and they are slowly caving in on me. There's no ceiling, and I can still see the sky through the top, but I'm scared I'm never going to get out. I couldn't count on my two hands the number of times Arianna's biological dad said "when this is over..." and he'd fill it in with either 'we should take some time apart,' 'we'll always be family in a way,' 'I'm going to do better for myself,' etc. These were all valid points and good ideas, but I always countered it by saying "this will never just be over.'" He didn't seem to undersand that. He'd say "Well, I know, but you know what I mean." What he meant was simply 'after we sign the papers,' which to me was never really the end, but the beginning. Yes, I knew it was the end of my legal rights to call myself her mom, I knew it was the last time I'd see her for a long time, but I also knew that didn't mean anything was over. I just didn't know, at that time, how right I really was. I think, in a way, he was looking at it as if I was getting an abortion. I know it sounds crazy, but that's how I think he was seeing it (at least in the very beginning). He only saw this sequence of events - she has the baby, she gives the baby up, we move on. Now, I'm not downplaying the emotional impact of abortion on a girl (or guy), and especially never having had one myself, I don't know the emotional repercussions of that procedure. I'm also not downplaying miscarriage or death (of any age) in any way, either, but I do believe there is more of a sense of it being 'over' after an abortion. There's nothing more to work with - you were pregnant one day, the next you were not (by your own voluntary choice). I know there are emotional consequences and some are very similar to those of a woman who chooses adoption...the thoughts of never wanting to be around a baby again, the depression, the grief, that 'I can't get out of bed' feeling...they're both in the middle of a venn diagram between abortion and adoption. But adoption will never be as concrete, as black and white, as final as abortion. I see both sides of the argument between adoption and abortion, I really do. Adoption has its pros, of course - for one, your child is still living, and if you're lucky, you get to see that child grow up, even if only through pictures...and there are SO many more pros. It also has it's cons - you always know that there's a piece of you out there, calling someone else "mommy." You have so much time (essentially that child's entire lifetime) to wonder if you did the right thing, to worry that your child will never love you, to worry that he or she will want nothing to do with you. Abortion is the same way - pros and cons. I don't want to get into the whole "abortion debate," because I don't want to seem judgemental, and personally I don't know if I'm pro-choice or pro-life. As I've said before, I always said that if I got pregnant I would never be able to have an adortion...but I also said I could never lay eyes on my own baby and hand him or her over to someone else, either. I would never pass judgement on someone who did have an abortion, but the minute I heard my daughter cry and saw her little chest moving up and down I was in such awe that I created something that was breathing on it's own, that I decided right then and there that no matter what, I would always choose life (although I hope I'm not in the position to have to choose again - I hope that if and when I ever am pregnant again that it's because I planned it!).

There are words that still sting me, even though it's been almost eleven months. People that have nothing to do with me will say innocent things and they go through me like a knife. Today in my psych class, we had 7 minutes to write down things that we are committed to. I wrote down that I was committed to not only finishing school, but excelling in it, being financially stable, my relationships with my friends and family, and most importantly, I am committed to maintaining the healthy relationship I have with my daughter's adoptive family. He called on some people to share their ideas with the class, and thankfully, I wasn't one of them. Most people said they are committed to finishing school and a few said they are committed to making their children's lives better than their own. After the discussion was essentially over, one girl raised her hand and said "I agree with the part about being committed to kids, because I just found out this morning that I'm pregnant." It felt like my heart tore in half, and I can't even explain why. She wasn't happy about it, either. Someone said 'congratulations!,' and she replied with 'UGHH!!!' I don't know why it hit me so hard, it just did. I was jealous, deep down. I never thought pregnancy was such a beautiful thing til I went through it, but I think that's the way it goes with a lot of things. I was jealous because there's a part of me that wishes I could experience some parts of it again - like seeing her move around on the ultrasound screen, feeling her kick my hips in the middle of the night, anticipating the morning that I got to find out if she was a boy or a girl (granted, I only had to wait one night, since I was so far along when I found out, but still), choosing a name for her, holding her for the first time, etc. I would love to do all of that again, but when the time is right. I've read a lot of statistics that state that girls who have abortions or lose a child to adoption try to 'fill the void' by becoming pregnant soon after - I would never do that. At least not for those reasons. I know that no one will ever fill that void of my firstborn, my little girl. She will always be my first child, my first girl, and the one and only Arianna. I could have eleven more babies in my lifetime, and none will ever take her place in my heart. That's just the way it is. I'm sure all other firstmoms would agree.

People sometimes ask me if I am happy with the way things are. My daughter is safe, loved, and will want for nothing (except maybe answers when she is older). How could I not be happy about that? If I think only of her, I am so happy I can't even tell you. On the flip side, when I think only about myself, and how my child is not in my arms, there's no carseat in my car, I don't get to take her to dance... no, that doesn't make me happy. It's hard to answer that. I might not be a mommy that buys her diapers, takes her to the playground or goes to parent-teacher conferences, but the aspect of motherhood that implies that you put your child first, above all else, still thrives in me. That's why I say I'm happy when people ask, because I'm happy for her. In a perfect world, would I wish she were here with me? Of course. Had my circumstances been different, she'd be in her crib in my house right now. But they weren't. And it wasn't just one thing - it wasn't just money, it wasn't just who her father was, it wasn't just my schooling, it was all of those rolled into one, and then some. I know deep down that she is where she should be, I just don't think I'm where I should be yet.

I'm working on it, though. I contacted a therapist last night and she emailed me back and told me to leave her a voicemail and she would call back to set up an appointment. I've exhausted all of my ideas of 'self-help,' and they have gotten me nowhere, so I'm turning to therapy and my anti-depressants once again. I hate to be medicated, but sometimes, a little boost is all you need. By this time next year I plan and hope to be in a much better place than I am now. (I said that last year, too, but I had no idea what the year had in store for me. Now, I have a bit more of a better idea, although I've learned to never say never and I've especially learned that adoption itself can take twists and turns).

Monday morning I woke up to an unexpected email from my little one's adoptive mom! She already sent me a very long update filled with tons of pictures on September 5th, so I wasn't expecting another update until at least the beginning of October. In it, she updated me on the theme for her first birthday and told me that she and four other interior designers were already starting to plan the party, and told me what she is going to be for Halloween! She also told me that she loves her music class, loves singing and 'dancing' and shaking the rattle. She promised to get pictures or videos of it for me soon. In the email, there were some pictures of her apple-picking, pumpkin picking, and at a petting-zoo. Those were hard to see, because I remember last fall when I was looking through their adoption booklet, one of the pictures was of C and C and their adopted son in front of a bunch of corn stalks - and one of the pictures she sent me was identical to that photo - only plus one curly-haired little girl.

I definitely think she was meant to be their daughter. She fits right in so perfectly, and I remember looking at their book last year and I could vividly imagine her being in the pictures, too. Now, I'm seeing it for real and while it hurts to see it...it also reassures me. I did the right thing for her, for me, for them, for all involved.

'In the end, all you think about is the beginning.'

2011-09-25T20:00:00.027-04:00

My day in New York went very well. We went to the fundraiser and did get to meet Shorty and (most importantly) Hercules! I love that dog. All in all, it was a good experience, although the weather was a little dreary. Now it's back to the real world, and tomorrow is my first 8a.m. class of this semester. What on earth was I thinking, signing up for an 8a.m. class on a Monday? I'm already dreading the alarm clock going off, and I haven't even gotten into bed yet.

I'm trying to keep my spirits up this upcoming week, because I already feel overwhelmed and it's not even Monday yet. I know I've said it about a hundred times, but this fall is going to be one that I'm just going to have to keep my eyes on the future and plow my way through. If you haven't already noticed by now, I remember dates more than anything. I've always been good with numbers like that, but I can't do math worth a crap (go figure, I can't remember numbers when it counts). I've always been good at remembering license plates, times, and dates...so leave it to me to know about all of the little 'anniversaries' that take place in the fall. This coming Friday, which is the 30th, marks the day that my daughter's bio father kissed me for the first time, in the mountains (as we called them), which was really just a big forest with a huge pond in the middle. Who remembers the first time someone kissed them? Maybe a lot of people do, maybe not many do, but I know I do. I remember it like it was yesterday. Hell, I even remember what I was wearing that night. Sometimes my memory is a curse (this being one of those times). I bet he doesn't even remember the year it happened, let alone the date. That's just the way I am, though. I remember the day my rabbit had her babies when I was in 8th grade even though they've all been long gone now, I remember the date that we left for a vacation to Florida on when I was in 3rd grade, etc. Anyways, I'm not looking forward to Friday. This should be a new beginning for me, I should be embracing the amount of stress that walked out of my life the moment that he did, but instead I'm caught up reminiscing about things that I don't really want to happen again; I just can't let go of them.

I have to start thinking more about what I'm doing to do and/or how I'm going to celebrate my little one's birthday in November. I can't believe it's already almost October. Maybe that will bring my spirits up a bit...I love everything about October and Halloween.

I have a lot more on my mind, but I'm still exhausted from spending 10+ hours out of 24 in the car, so I'm going to try to go to sleep now. Must be up bright and early in the morning for class (insert excited face here)!

P.S. I was in Old Navy the other day, and saw the cutest Halloween costume...

I got sad for a nanosecond when I thought "I HAVE to get this for Arianna," and then realized that I don't get to choose her outfit - not now, not in 5 years, not ever. But, still, it was so cute that I just had to post it! I do wonder what she'll be, though... :(

2011-09-23T21:28:00.021-04:00

I'm writing from New York tonight, as tomorrow I am going to the Paws for a Cause fundraiser in Rome (New York, that is!). It's a fundraiser and a walk-a-thon and I know I could use the walk, plus Shorty from Pit Boss and his adorable pit bull Hercules are hosting it and I'm not one to get all star-struck BUT I would love to give Hercules a big hug in person, provided I get the chance :)

I don't know why I always get flustered about being away from home. I was never really into sleepovers when I was younger, and if my friends and I did have one, I pushed for it to be at my house. The funny thing is, when I'm home, sometimes the last place I want to be is here. I dream of traveling and moving and just getting away from here...I'm 23 years old and I have lived in the same house for 23 years. The biggest move I've ever had was moving my bedroom from the front room to the back. I think I just really don't like change, to the extent that I don't even like sleeping away from my own bed. I don't know, though, because the several times I spent away with Arianna's birthdad, I had the most fun. Ironic, isn't it?

I came to New York last summer, too, to visit my best friend while she was living in the bronx. The circumstances were completely different; I took the Megabus as opposed to driving like I did this time, I stayed in her apartment vs. the hotel I'm in right now, I stayed for two nights rather than just one...but one giant difference keeps slapping me in the face: I had my little princess with me last summer when I was here. And, (not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing), things weren't 100% officially done between her father and I. I remember being on the bus on the way home and he called and we had a long talk about it (I had almost four hours to waste and the bus was next to empty), and now it just seems as if it was all for nothing. I'm in a better place in my life right now, I know it somewhere deep down, I just need to really start believing it.

I'm getting so off-topic. I'm happy to be here and I'm excited for tomorrow, so now more sadness here! I just miss her...

A picture today . . .

2011-09-22T11:54:00.006-04:00

I know, I know, I was two in the picture and she is only 10 months in the picture! I still thought it was adorable :)

Dreams, again

2011-09-21T14:50:00.001-04:00

I had the weirdest of weird dreams last night. The above is a note to myself, because the last time I had an extremely bizarre dream was immediately after I drank hot cocoa right before bed. Such a weird correlation, I know....I've heard that eating ice cream before bed can make your dreams weird, or drinking coffee or something like that. But hot cocoa? I definitely know that this dream was a byproduct of some of the things I had been talking about earlier that day. I was texting my friend nearly all day and we were talking about both of us doing better for ourselves, etc., and she said told me to 'always make today better than yesterday.' I told her she was absolutely right, but said that I am starting to freak out a little bit with fall approaching so quickly. More specifically, October and November, because those are the months that were so jam-packed with everything regarding my pregnancy, the adoption agency, leaving school, just everything. Then, coincidentally, another friend said she couldn't believe her first birthday was coming so quickly. Needless to say, my little girl, her birthday, the time in the hospital, (a.k.a. everything about her) was on my mind even more than usual all day long. In my dream, I was riding in the backseat of some guy's car (not sure who it was at the time) and looking through a photo album of pictures from the day Arianna was born. For whatever reason, we were on our way to the hospital where I had her....we were going to the nursery to visit her, and in my mind, she was still only going to be a few days old. I remember looking at the clock in the car and it said 11:02 (not the time she was born at, but the date) and being terrified. I told whoever I was with that I was going to need some support at 11:03 and 11:04, too, (the other two days we were in the hospital) and I reached out to hold the person's hand and he kept saying "stop, I don't have time for this right now," and I felt the tears welling up in my eyes and next thing I knew, I was in a completely different car, watching the guy who had been driving the one I was in....speeding away without me in it. As I saw the type of car it was and the license plate, I realized it had been G driving it and suddenly it all made sense. Then I woke up.

I guess I shouldn't call it a 'strange' dream, because I'm 99% sure similar events have happened between us, only under different circumstances. I see it as my subconscious telling me that I know he isn't there for me and hasn't been for a LONG time, and I need to accept it on the surface. Who knows, but that's how I'm interpreting it. It was eerie, though, when I woke up, how close to home it hit me.

Past few days . . .

2011-09-18T11:03:00.066-04:00

It's been a rough past couple of days, I had an "altercation" with Arianna's birthdad which did not start or end well. I won't go into details, but in short, I basically told him that he's on his own and does not deserve pictures of his little girl right now - this was after he told me that I never do or did anything nice for him and that he 'never wants to see me again in his life.' Okay, fine. So he gives me an email address to give to C and says 'tell her she can email me, or you can forward the pictures to me. That way, you'll never have to see me or speak to me again which is obviously what you want.' Why YES, that is what I want! Maybe not forever but for a long, long time. I went on to tell him that I didn't have to do as much as I have done for him in the past ten months...I did not have to make doubles of all the photos (and therefore spend more of my own $$), I did not have to meet up with him to give him copies of the emails that let us know how our daughter is doing. I asked him if he would write back to C, and he flat out said no. This sent me through the roof. How dare you let this woman who is raising your child take time out of her day to write 6, 7, 8, 10 paragraphs about YOUR child to you and send 20 - 30 pictures at a time (which she by no means has to do), and then say "No, I won't write back. Why? Because I don't want to." Immaturity at it's finest.

More was said, more was done, more tears were exchanged but that's done. I've said it before and that's even what I said to him - "we've said 'we are done' and gone our separate ways 'for good' about five times since she's been born" and he said that this time, he knows it's different. He knows he's hurting me by even being in my presence or even by my hearing his voice. According to him, he lashes out and gets to upset because he still cares, wants to be around me, and still loves me but knows that I can't be around him and that hurts him. Well, buddy, had you not hurt me so much in the past and even still up to two days ago, maybe I wouldn't feel so much like I couldn't be around you.

On to better things! I had some time last night to do another page for my scrapbook. I like to incorporate pink into every page (duh!) and also when I make a background to put the pictures on, I like to match the colors that are in the picture...the color is wearing, etc. For whatever reason, I photographed the steps I took to make one of my backgrounds last night. I like to think I'm creative (hahaha) although this is something extremely simple and that I'm sure people who scrapbook do all the time.

First, I picked out a base color and cut out little random strips of the other colors that match her outfit... then covered the back in strips of scotch tape (so much easier than taping the individual pieces!)

Here it is, flipped over.

I glued it to the pink background paper, then cut out the shape I want (while making sure that I don't cut a piece larger than the shortest strip of paper)

Voila! Done.

And here's the page, completely finished. I hope you like :)

Frustrated.

2011-09-14T14:08:00.054-04:00

I had one of those strange dreams last night where you are half awake, half asleep, and fully aware of what you are doing and thinking...but when you wake up, there is no evidence or clear thought of what it is that happened. I went to bed around midnight and distinctly remember getting a text from someone I work with at my e/o Saturday job. (This is someone who never texts me, let alone at midnight), so I read it and then went to "sleep," although I'm pretty sure I was still awake. My thoughts were all-consuming and the end result was me realizing that I need to suck it up and get over my "you don't need to be drugged to get through life" mentality and just take my anti-depressants again. Why I thought I could self-medicate and just stop taking them cold turkey last February, I'll never know. Anyways, this is what was on my mind - I started off thinking about the Fall of four years ago and how happy I was at this very time back then. How it was a week before he would kiss me for the first time, a month before the first time we slept together. (I don't know why I torture myself with these thoughts because he and I have never been more done and I have never wanted less to do with him than I do at this very moment). In fact, you would think him telling me last October that "now is not our time, we can't stay together in the long term" because he "felt he needed to be with the mother of his child" while I was sitting there eight months pregnant with his daughter would have been enough for me to tell him to go F himself once and for all. I'm glad I woke up the day that she was born and told him myself that I wanted nothing to do with him. I'm blaming the fact that I put up with that shit on my hormones, but sadly, I'm not sure if that's the case.

Anyways, that lead me to thinking about this past fall and him taking me into Boston to the agency and I re-lived all of those feelings I had all over again. It was like I was really sitting with my feet across the seat in the backseat of his car, with the leaves by the sidewalk crunching under us...I saw, as clear as day, him getting out and coming around and opening my door for me, helping me out, and walking across the street into the agency with me. I remember how anxious I was, how terrified I was, and how I kept thinking, "this isn't really happening. You aren't really going to give your baby up, you're just going through the motions." It all hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt worse last night than I even did then. I realized, fully, maybe for the first time, the magnitude of what is gone. I realized that I lost more than just my baby through those agency doors, I lost a toddler, a preschooler, a child, a teen, a woman, maybe a future wife and future mother, too. I've realized that I try to fix things in my head until I get an outcome I can "live" with. I spent so much time doing it with G. If he didn't call me back one night and I secretly assumed it was because he was with someone else or out doing something he didn't want me to know about, I wouldn't be able to fall asleep until I convinced myself that he must have fallen asleep early, or he must have left his phone in the car or something. Had I not convinced myself of that outcome, I would have tossed and turned with anxiety all night. That is so unhealthy. I feel stupid even saying it out loud, I feel like a fool even admitting it to the public (you never know who reads these). Well, it's true, and I did it. Good thing it's over, right? Well, last night I tried to do the same. I tried to convince myself that I already got over the biggest hurdle; I already put my newborn child in another man's arms and walked away from her for an indefinite amount of time...I already trusted another man and woman to raise my daughter and put her above themselves even more than I myself would have been able to...so I got over the tough stuff, right? But that's just one teeny chapter. Yes, walking out of the hospital, and then a week later walking away from them and leaving her with them were probably the two hardest things I will ever have to do in my life (I hope), but it's not like it's a cakewalk from here. When I realized this last night, it felt like my heart literally, physically fell and landed in my ankles. At this very moment, I'm still not sure if I dreamed all of this or if I was awake, but either way, it was in my mind at some point - consciously or subconsciously.

I guess I really do just have to take it one day at a time. Things will always change; she will always change. Humans are ever-changing, so why would I think of my daughter as staying a baby forever? I worry that I will feel it all over again for each milestone in her life. Last fall I 'lost' a baby. When she turns three, will I feel like I'm 'losing' a toddler? Will I feel like I'm 'losing' a kindergartener? I hope not. I'm not entirely sure anything I've even said in this post will even make sense, so I apologize.

A different "10 month" milestone

2011-09-11T14:52:00.035-04:00

Being the 11th, today marks ten months since I've held my little princess and seen her in person. It's also a horrible anniversary for the U.S. and especially for the families affected by the tragedies that struck ten years ago on this day. Not only have the past ten months flown by, but the past ten years have flown by, too. Ten years ago on this day, I was in the 8th grade, on the 3rd floor of my school, in Algebra class. I remember it like it was yesterday, so how could I fear that I will ever forget any little detail about my daughter? Her smell, watching her little chest breathing...up and down, up and down, her eyelashes, the suckling noises she made at night...I fear that I will forget it, but how could I? If I can remember the scribbles that were on top of the wooden desk and the twizzler I was eating when my teacher's cell phone rang to tell her about the plane crashing, how could I ever forget how soft my baby's skin was when she was a day old? I worry incessantly. It hit me hard today because my mom and dad asked me if I wanted to go out to breakfast. I said yes and then a few minutes later, asked where they wanted to go. She said the name of a place down the street and as soon as she said it this awful memory hit me like a ton of bricks. We went there towards the end of November...I can't remember when, exactly, but I think it was before Thanksgiving. It was within a week or two after I put my little girl in her new daddy's arms and walked away. I had been crying almost every day after that, but this day was an exception. I woke up in a good mood, and we went out to eat. For whatever reason, as soon as the waitress put my pancakes in front of me, I burst into tears. I felt sad because I missed her; I felt guilty because I felt like I didn't deserve to be eating "nice" food and enjoying myself when I had just "left" my baby with strangers. It hit me like a ton of bricks, and I was sobbing in the middle of the restaurant over my pancakes and a cup of tea. It was embarrassing and just awful. So, fast forward to this morning - my mother mentions the place and I immediately said NO. This damn near brought the Spanish Inquisition to my house...she must have asked me seven times why I didn't want to go. Nothing worked - I said I didn't like the food, she said it's the same everywhere. I said it'd be busy, she said it'd be busy everywhere...you get the idea. I didn't want to tell her because I was afraid she'd say "So you'll never set foot in there again because of that one little thing?," and it's questions like that where insensitivity takes the front burner and her compassion takes the back. So I avoided the explanation at all costs. So, that, on top of me walking into my room and seeing that today was the 11th, made today a little rough. I hope after her birthday, the meaningful dates will get a little easier. Not less meaningful, just less overwhelming. So far, I have spent the first year counting the months. She's 2 months, 5 months, etc., but I don't see myself thinking, "today she's a year and three months..." maybe I will, maybe I won't, I'll have to see. But I just don't imagine I will.

Oh, I forgot last time I wrote - she says "dada" now. I am so proud of her and at the same time SO wish it was me she was saying it to (not dada, of course, but you know). On the other hand, though, the man she is calling 'dada' fits the idea of the father I wanted her to have so much more than the one she was born to, and for that, its hard to be anything but happy.

2011-09-09T19:08:00.019-04:00

I know I have been uncharacteristically quiet lately, I just don't have much to say, I guess. I've been preoccupied with school (a good thing) and my grandfather being in and out of the hospital (a bad thing). It seems like I miss little miss princess more than usual lately, but I've chalked it up to the fact that her first birthday will be here in the blink of an eye. Here is a picture that was taken just this past Labor Day . . .

I adore this one, and the giant pink bow in her hair :)

Tea Rooms, Tarot Cards, and an Uncanny Truth

2011-09-07T18:28:00.003-04:00

Last Friday, I went with a group of friends from high school to go get our cards read. I was skeptical at first - no, actually, I was terrified. I was terrified that I would hear something I didn’t want to hear and somehow connect it to my daughter and fear that I’d never see her again. I was scared to have my ‘future’ laid out in front of me by some stranger, because lately I have to take it day by day just to get out of bed. I wouldn’t even commit to doing it until we actually got there and I saw that it was a relaxed, comfortable setting and I was reassured by my friends that I needed to just relax and have fun. For some reason, I was picturing a dark, smoky room with no windows and a velvet tablecloth, with a woman sitting in some crazy yoga position with a crystal ball in front of her. Needless to say, it was absolutely nothing like that. Once I saw that I could get up and run if need be, I was a-okay with having my cards read. I’m hesitant to write it all out, because I feel like it’s one of those touchy subjects (if you’re superstitious), like not saying a wish out loud because it makes it not come true. I do want to remember everything, though, and I also want to share, so here goes:

She started off by having me shuffle and then pick ten cards out of a pile, face-down. I forget what the pictures were on them or what they said, but I remember she pulled two more than once - one that meant ‘completion and wholeness,’ and another that meant ‘past efforts and hardships will reap future benefits.’ Of course I related that card to the adoption…all of the hard decision making and all of the pain would reap benefits for my little girl and eventually for me, too. The very first thing she said was that she saw that I was either having a lot of job troubles or I had just quit my job, and I explained that I had just left. She then told me that she saw someone whose name she thought started with a V and ended with an N and whom she thought may be my grandmother, watching over me. My grandma, who passed away in 2003, was named Evelyn. Pretty darn close, if you ask me. Then she hit one of the touchy subjects - my daughter’s bio father. She told me she felt a love interest who I still cared for and who still cared for me and loved me, but that there was a barrier there that he wasn’t yet willing to move from, or felt that he was unable to move from. She said that she believes that I am a dominant person, being an Aries, and that he is too (also being an Aries) and that that is why our relationship didn’t work out. She sensed that he would always be in my life, but not as a love interest, and that he would always care for me but that now is the time to work on myself and let him go. That was all I needed to hear - I mean, of course I know that I need to let him go. My parents tell me. My friends tell me. I tell myself. Having a woman who can apparently see my FUTURE (on some level) tell me to just give up and move on (because she can see that even I know that I should) was the last straw. What else? She mentioned one of my close friends names and the name of said friend’s grandmother (which I didn’t even know until I told my friend about it and she said that was her grandmother’s name, too).

Now, on to the important part. She kept pulling a card that meant “autumn” and telling me that she sensed that the fall season was very significant to me. She said it’s been a time of change, new beginnings, and life-alterations. Oddly enough, not only is fall when my little girl was born and when I “lost” her, but it’s also the season that I grew so close with and fell in love with her bio dad. And as I’ve said in previous posts, it’s my absolute favorite time of year, so I’m not surprised that she picked up on all of that. She told me she felt that I had suffered a loss, but that the person didn’t pass away, they were still on this earth just not directly in my life, but not to worry because this person and I will meet again and be the best of friends. MY HEART MELTED right then and there. I started crying and she kept saying “don’t cry, don’t cry, this is supposed to be fun!“ but as you can imagine, that was one of the most emotional statements I could have heard. I just knew she was talking about Arianna, and my heart was singing.
Then, after that, she told me she saw a young child, “probably a girl,” who would have a childhood worth envying that and I myself would be jealous of. She said this child would “want for nothing.” Then, she asked me to help her out a bit and tell her who this child was that she ‘saw.’ I told her it was probably my daughter and she said “ahhh, I see, and you, for some reason, feel as though when it comes to her that you have no control. But you do have control, you actually have more than you think.” (Not sure what that means…if I were to ask for visits at a younger age, I would get them? I’m lost on that one). As I was nodding my head in agreement she came out and asked me what the situation was, exactly…and I explained that I had given her up for adoption and that she was born in the fall. After that, she told me “generic” things that I absolutely hope are true as well, but are things that anyone could and has said to me, like that she sees that the family has money, that I am sad and probably always will be a little sad but that I “definitely” made the best decision I could with what I had, etc. Of course she isn’t my friend and doesn’t necessarily owe me anything, really, so I hope those are things she truly felt or “saw.” One thing she said that stuck with me, though, was “her family will never, ever close any doors on you and your daughter will always know who you are.” That, too, seems like a simple reassuring statement, BUT she did not know it was an open adoption. I get that that’s a much more common occurrence now, but still, for all she knew I could have signed the papers and never heard from them again, so it made me very happy when she said that. She said my little girl will be into physical activities and always into something; sports, music lessons, etc., which is funny because she is in a music class for babies right now. She then asked me if the love interest that I was sort of clinging onto that she had mentioned earlier was my daughter’s father, to which I told her yes. Finally, the most eerie part: she told me that my daughter will have a creative side and enjoy drawing and writing like me, but will have her father’s looks. She could not have been more spot on about any of that. She didn’t know I was into that sort of stuff (which I very much am) and had not seen a picture of my little princess.

It really gave me faith and I put my foot straight into my mouth immediately afterwards, because I was always one of those people who thought it was all a hoax and that no one can really “see” or know these things. I have a renewed belief in it all and I highly, highly recommend having it done. Much like myself, you may be terrified going into it (trust me, my hands were shaking and I had already nearly cried on the way just thinking about it) but if you get someone who can really connect with and read you the way this woman did for me, it can hopefully give you some hope (if you’re in a tough situation). I won’t take her word as if it’s written in stone, but it’s definitely guiding me a little. My mood has been a little better this past week since I’ve gotten it done. I used to have fears, questions, tiny tiny doubts…and I’m not saying they’re completely squashed, but I have definitely had a lot more faith instilled in myself since that night.

I started writing this entry on Monday evening, but I got sidetracked because my phone went off and it was an email from C!! In it was a long update and a 38 page PDF she put together or photos of our little princess. She apologized for being so quiet lately (which she absolutely doesn’t need to do) and said it’s because they were on their cross-country trip. My little girl has been to double as many states as I have and she’s only 10 months old. I mean, really been in, not just flown over or driven through. She’s now spent time around kittens, puppies, horses and birds at a farm in a state in the Midwest. The pictures melt my heart because I am so passionate about animals, and to see her cuddling up to a dog or patting a cat or gazing up at a horse with an ear-to-ear smile nearly brings tears to my eyes. She also got her hair done. By “done” I mean, her grandmother (African American) parted her hair in all these crazy ways and put it in little hair ties all around her head. I want to post a picture, I’m just hesitant because of the easy access through a google search to all the photos on here. I do have some on facebook, though, so if anyone does want to see, I can add you/you can add me. I know that’s still technically “showing people I don’t know,” but I trust my few readers (most who are in the same boat as me, or on the same side of the adoption triad) to take a look at some. It’s probably not very sound logic, but it seems safer than putting them here. At least with facebook, for the most part I know and have control over who sees what.

So, I guess that’s all for now (as if I didn’t write enough, right?) School has started up again full-swing and I am still on the hunt for a job, so I may not be as talkative as I was over the summer. I do still read everyone’s posts though, and usually with an empathetic smile. :)

September 2nd...already?

2011-09-02T09:52:00.040-04:00

Although I'm not parenting, I can officially wholeheartedly say...they do grow up way too fast. How on earth is that little peanut with a head full of jet black hair that I held in the hospital already two short months away from being one? One sounds so young, but one also sounds so old. I remember thinking on her 4 month birthday that she was growing up so fast. Then I said to myself, "how will I feel when she's 5 months? Or even 8 months? Oh well, that's so far away..." WRONG again! It's almost like she's getting further and further away from being the baby I knew. The baby I held, the idea of her when she was tangible to me.

I had wanted to be finished with my first half of college, my associates, by the time she was one, but that looks like it will have to be pushed back a little bit. If I stay on track, I should be able to be done in December, so I will have *almost* made it. If I keep at it and transfer and continue taking my classes, I can have my bachelor's right after she turns three, and depending on the career path I choose, my master's around the time she's five. When I look at it that way, she's still so young. Right now, though, I feel like she's growing up way, way, way to fast. It's exciting, in a way, to see how much she is changing from update to update. Her face is no longer a 'baby face' and she is definitely taking after her birthdad. The bottom half of her face is shaped like mine, and she has my lips, but her hair, eyes, forehead, nose, even her hands look like his.

I love her to death. She has taught me so much in her ten months of life, I can only imagine how much I will learn from her as she grows.

Remembering Maddie on her Mommy's Birthday . . .

2011-09-01T11:28:00.000-04:00

Today is my "blog friend," Kellie's, birthday. She asked for everyone to honor and remember her baby girl as a gift for her today. This is her beautiful baby girl, Madison . . .

. . . who she sadly lost to SIDS at only four months old. She has endured things that no mother should ever have to go through. I admire Kellie for her strength and that she gets out of bed everyday for her Maddie, because she knows this is the life she was given and is going to make the best of it! She is an inspiration to me, because if she can still smile though her heartbreak, so can I. She blogs @ Another Day Stronger.

Happy Birthday, Kellie!
I know your baby girl is watching over you today and every day.

Fall is in the air...finally!

2011-08-30T13:25:00.070-04:00

Fall has always been my favorite season. I love the way the air feels and smells, I love the leaves all over the ground, I love that the sun sets earlier and the sky is always this beautiful shade of blue that seems to only come around during the fall months. I have distinct memories of being in elementary school and being SO excited to come home and carve pumpkins or help put up the Halloween and Thanksgiving decorations. I never was excited for the turkey (I haven't eaten meat for as long as I can remember - my parents say I stopped around 5 or 6, once I fully realized exactly *what* it was that I was eating), so Thanksgiving never was a huge deal for me, but I lived for Halloween. I don't distinctly remember enjoying trick-or-treating, because even when I was younger I was acutely aware that it meant that Halloween "season" was, in fact, over, and the decorations and all of the black and white and purple lights strung around the house would soon be coming down. The lead up to something usually is better than the actual event, because you let the excitement build and build.

Fall took on a whole new meaning to me, though, four years ago this September. That's not when I met Arianna's birthfather, but it's when the relationship began. You know those first few months of a relationship, where absolutely nothing can go wrong? That's how September, October, November, and December of 2007 were for me. I don't think I will ever forget those few months. They were perfect. I had never been happier. For the past few years, when the leaves start changing, it's always made me think of him. This year, though, it will be in a different way. The hurricane (which was a tropical storm by the time it reached where I live) made the leaves all blow off of the trees and scatter around the yard, and some of them had already started to brown. It just looked like autumn in my backyard, and it made me feel suddenly very sad. I think I was sad for what could have been. I was sad that at this very time four years ago, I was embarking on the happiest (or so I thought) time of my life with him. I was upset that that was over; that September 30th would no longer have some special meaning to me, I would no longer call him on that day and say "remember what happened on this day?," now it would turn into me, here, not talking to him, and thinking "remember when...?" I started to mourn the loss of myself, in a way, the loss of myself to him, the loss of the last few years that I still had to be "young." By that I mean, I was nineteen and he was much older. Not *too* old, but around 10 years. I was mourning all of the opportunity that he and I could have had, had things gone differently. I was upset that I didn't know then what I know now, but of course that would have been impossible to know. Anyways, that got me into a little funk, so that's why I've been quiet for a few days.

The aforementioned "funk" only got worse when I realized that not only is this my first autumn without him, without an 'anniversary,' without going for a walk in the leaves...it's my first fall that I get to celebrate the birth of my little girl while simultaneously missing her more and more with every fiber of my being. To be honest, I don't know how I will handle her first birthday. It's as if I'm physically split in half over the idea of it. One half of me wants to celebrate, with a small cake with a little #1 candle on it, and a happy phone call to her parents. I want to celebrate her life on this earth and all the ways it has changed me for the better. I want to rejoice in the fact that she is here, healthy, made it to one year old (because the more you read on blogs and other things on the internet, that unfortunately is an accomplishment that so many babies don't get to make it to, due to SIDS or other terrifying things), and most importantly, that she is happy. Then there is the other half which is scared out of my mind. I'm afraid I won't want to get out of bed. I'm afraid that everytime I make a move, the thought will creep into my head..."last year, on this day, you were with your baby girl. You had two more days with her in the hospital. She was yours." I'm afraid I will question myself, even though I know what I did was the right thing for her. As I've said, if I could go back in time and re-do it, as much as I would want to give anything to take her home with me, I wouldn't. Everything happens for a reason, and I can't sit here and tell you that the reason I had an unplannged pregnancy with a man that I had no future with was because I was meant to be her mommy. I never used to be someone who had faith or believed in a real higher power, but I have to believe that the reason I got pregnant and the reason it was with him is because I was meant to be a medium between her and her forever parents. I was made into a bridge, and I couldn't have had a more important task; I couldn't have had a more important person to transport across that bridge from where she began to where she belonged. So, all of that being said, I have no prediction whatsoever to how her first birthday will be for me. The only thing I do know is, if you know me in real life or are around me at all around that time or anything like that, don't be afraid to say her name around me. As hard as it will be to not have her by my side on her birthday, to not be posting pictures of her eating cake with an ear-to-ear pink-dyed smile on her face, it will be harder to have no acknowledgement of it. I understand it's a touchy subject that not many people know how to handle or how to react to. Hell, I don't even know how I will react, but I ask you to not be scared to write to me on facebook, to text, or to call, wishing her a happy first birthday. I know this will be a hard one, maybe the hardest one I will have to face, but I think it will be easier knowing I have people who are there for me. A baby's birthday is a day all about the baby; but when the mother of the baby has empty arms and there is another family celebrating the life and love of that baby that is now their own, the birthday becomes more about that mother who is alone. I don't mean for that to sound self-centered...I don't mean for any part of this post to come across as self-centered. I just know that it will bring a smile to my face to know that people remembered her birthday :)

I may do something like a balloon release in honor of her, or something. I know they are usually "memorials," but I'm not sure if they are limited to death or just loss in general. To each his own, I guess. I suppose I can use a balloon release to symbolize whatever I want, and I would choose to do it to honor her life and how much I miss her. I'm not sure how I want to do it yet, though. I know for certain I don't want it to be me and her birthdad doing it, but I don't want to do it alone, either. I think I know the place I would do it at, and I think I would want my parents there...but no other immediate family. I may ask a few close friends. I don't want it to be a huge event with 50 people, but it would be nice if it was more than just my parents and I. I can think of 10 - 15 people I would probably ask to be there. The only issue is, a few of these people are people I worked with at the first vet hospital I was at; the one I was at when I found out I was pregnant in the first place. It's one of those tight-knit groups where if you invite one person, you sort of have the invite the other, and the other, and so on. But (back to being self-centered, hahaha), being one of the most special days I think I will ever have, I know that I want only people I truly care about and love to be there. I don't want drama, I don't want anything to ruin my memory of that day. I'm sort of stuck when it comes to that, and I don't know how I will tackle it when the day approaches. Also, her birthday falls on a Wednesday this year, so I was thinking I may do it on the Sunday before, which is October 30th. That is, after all, the day I went to the hospital the first time with what turned out to be false labor pains. I was sent home soon after. It's the last night I spent at home with her, just me and her - no nurses, no doppler, no fetal monitor, no nothing. Just me and her, with her kicking the night away and keeping me awake (but it was the happiest I've ever been while being kept away from my beauty rest (; ) Besides, if I do it that Sunday, I *should* have no worries of being way too much of an emotional wreck to see anyone. I would hate to plan it for a Wednesday, have people plan in advance to be sure to be there, and then not be able to pry myself out of bed or wash my face enough to be able to see more than an inch in front of me.

To anyone reading this, what do you think about a balloon release? I think I might have already said this, but I know the general conception is that it's to remember someone who has passed away. I definitely don't want it to have some underlying meaning of death or anything like that. I want to do it as a way to remember, the same way you do with someone who has died, but also at the same time, have it be a way to celebrate her. If I end up organizing it and going through with it, I know for certain that I want to have pink balloons, but not JUST pink, because that seems too boring. I have an image in my head of how I want it to look, and that includes pale pink, dark pink, and a few orange and black ones scattered in there, too. The orange and black are, of course, for Halloween...for a few reasons. (1) even though her birthday is November 2nd, it's very close to Halloween, (2) Halloween is my favorite holiday, (3) I went into labor with her on Halloween around eleven at night, (4) if I do it on October 30th, that makes the colors all the more appropriate, and (5) I like colorful things. All pink would be too generic for me.

So, those are my thoughts on that, feel free to share yours if you'd like. I'm not dead set on that idea; I just know that I want to do something "for" her, either on or around her birthday. I'm planning now, because it really is right around the corner...she will be ten months on Friday. Unbelievable. Plus, with school starting up again full-swing and my job search quickly becoming more and more necessary (and so I can have some extra money to buy her her birthday presents!), the month of September and most of October will be pretty busy. Which is good, that's what I need...but I want to plan so that those days up to and right after her birthday are as special as they possibly can be. I know for sure that they will be special for her :)

AWKWARD, with a capital A...and all the other letters, too

2011-08-26T13:26:00.102-04:00

I just got home from meeting Arianna's birthdad to give him pictures. He and I hadn't spoken in over two weeks, and things were going well. I missed him, of course, when certain things I would see or hear would spark some sort of memory of him...but overall, I was a-okay with not talking to him. I didn't hype myself up to meet him, I wasn't prepared for him to suddenly have become a different (better) person and sweep me off my feet all over again. I did, however, stupidly doll myself up in an effort to make him think I was something spectacular that he was missing. Coincidentally, my mom and I went to get our nails done last night, so that worked out well. Not-so-coincidentally, I made my hair look as amazing as possible and did my make up as if I went to school for it. All for...what? For him to miss me? For him to wish he still had me? It sounds so self-centered of me, now that I look back on it. It got me nowhere, too. I didn't even want it to get me anywhere, that's the thing. I don't want him back, I don't want him in my life (other than in the obvious way that he will be forever), and I don't want to have any sort of romantic bond with him ever again. I love him, but I'm no longer in love with him, and he acts as though I hurt his feelings when I say that. He chose to do the things he did while we were together and he, ultimately, decided the fate between he and I long before I even knew it. So, why did I make myself look all pretty, and wear a shirt that I knew for a fact that he liked, and do my hair the way I knew he liked it? 'Cause now I'm sitting here, on my bed, looking like I'm dressed up to go somewhere nice...and I'm just sitting here, stuck in reverse and mulling over my conversation with him.

We didn't argue, but I did cry. We looked at the pictures together, in my car, and I cried. I cried because I wish I were with her, I cried because I wish I could see her doing the things she's doing in the picture first-hand. Then, he said something that struck me, because at times, I feel the same way - he said that when he reads the emails I print out for him, and sees the pictures, that he feels like he's looking at a child that he met once or twice but that isn't his. He said it feels like this is a family that he knows through some distant relation, that is sending him photos of their child. In a way, that's exactly what they are doing - sending us pictures of their child. At the same time, though, she is our child too. I do find myself feeling detached at times. I look at her and feel as if she's not even mine, and as if she never was...but then I remind myself that in order for her to be theirs, she had to be ours first. Had she not been mine (or in this context, 'ours'), she never would have been there to be 'theirs,' either. He told me that's hard for him, because he knows he was involved in the process of her being on this earth and he knows that she is a part of him - half of him - and that he misses her, a lot. It was the first time in a while that he's opened up like that (and trust me, for him, that is opening up), usually he masks it. I'm not sure if that's to spare me from seeing him sad and therefore getting even more sad, or if it's to protect some "manly image" he thinks he needs to have. I don't know. It was tough, though. Once the conversation about Arianna was over, neither of us had much to say to one another. I know it's better that way...that's what I need. But it was tough to sit there and feel like strangers. He doesn't know me anymore, just like I barely know him. He didn't know I quit my job, he didn't know a, b, or c, either. It's so hard when someone isn't who you thought they were...I wish, more than anything, that we could go back to the friendship we had in the beginning, before it became so much more. That's the version of him that I miss, the version of us that I miss. Maybe it's for the best that he's changed (or was forced to show his true colors), because if he hadn't, I'd be in tears everyday, wanting him back. If he was the same person I fell in love with four years ago, I would never move on from it. Maybe I need him to act immature and like a jerk to help me move forward. I just wish it weren't awkward. I know I can't have it both ways. I can't have him "out of my life" and have it not be awkward when we meet up to exchange photos and whatnot. Relationships of any kind just don't work that way. Wait, I take that back, because my best friend and I can go months with barely speaking (if she's in another country and it's hard to find time, etc), and when we do talk or get together again, it's like we never missed a beat. But the relationship I have with G is so much more delicate. We have been though things together that a lot of people haven't had to go through and it has changed not only both of us individually, but the way we interact as a whole. Sitting so close to him, in the car, makes me feel like there should be a third little person between us. It feels so unnatural when I'm around him; like part of myself was extracted from me, and part of him was extracted and molded a little baby girl...and she's nowhere to be seen. Her mother and father are sitting together, but alone. Where is she?? Then I come to my senses and realize that she is right where she needs to be..right where she should be. I was not fit to be her mommy at this time in my life, nor was he fit to be her daddy. Together, we were even less fit to be parents than we were separately.

At one point, when he got all quiet, I asked him what was the matter. He said that he just got upset thinking about how I had quit my job (I told him, today) and how I now had 'free time' until school starts and/or I start another part-time job...and he said "if only I had finished the honda, if only I had painted it with you back before all of this happened, you wouldn't be sitting around in your room, being sad and having all day to dwell on missing the baby...we'd be out driving around in it, just laughing and having fun..." and for a moment, I longed for that missed opportunity. I enjoy working on cars, not mechanically, but aesthetically...I know how to fiberglass, I know how to wet sand, paint, etc. A lot of my knowledge was learned from him. We spent a lot of those years working on that car. Had I not gotten pregnant, we probably would have finished it by now and would be enjoying it. I let myself get caught up in that idea and for a minute or two, I was sad. I wished we were in that car at that moment, driving down the highway. Then it hit me - if he and I were in that car, our relationship would be the same now as it was before. I would be miserable and not even have the gumption to admit it to myself, and he would be there, not taking anything seriously, as usual. More importantly, my baby girl would not be here. As hard as it is and as much as I miss her each and every day, I would never take it back. I would never wish she had never been born. She, at only a day or two old, is the one who made me admit to myself that the way I was living my life was not the way I wanted it to be. That's not to say he was holding me back, I was holding myself back. I had been unhappy for a year or maybe longer, but I was terrified of change and I didn't want to lose him. So I stuck it out, and I paid for it in the end. I sacrificed my happiness to paint some pretty picture of who he and I were on the outside. No one really knew how the inside felt.

I've learned my lesson, though. The way I feel today is nothing like the way I felt yesterday. Yesterday, I was happier. I need to be away from him. I say it all the time, and then I'm like one of those weak girls that keeps going back. I'm not going back, though. That hasn't crossed my mind, honestly, in months. I will wait for him to ask me if he wants pictures, and, at least for a while, I will have to mail them to him to get them to him. Why torture myself any more? I need to make a promise, here and now, that I will not see him again at least until she's one. A little over two months. I can do it, and I need to do it. I just need to practice more self-control...and now is as good a time as any, right?

Facebook...

2011-08-25T11:28:00.001-04:00

I feel as though lately I only go on facebook to talk to friends that I wouldn't normally text or call. All of my other friends on there, though, are either married, pregnant, have a baby, or all three. It used to be something I never wanted, but now I feel like I am a "mother" too...but I don't get to post pictures every day of something cute my baby does. Even if I got a picture every single day, I wouldn't post it. And if I did post it, I wouldn't be able to really write what she was doing at the time I took the picture, and the background in my picture wouldn't be of my house. That makes me so sad...it's beyond belief. Now, as if to add insult to injury, facebook now posts my status from a year ago on the right hand sidebar. "On this day in 2010, you said...." UGH. On this day in 2010, I was pregnant. My little princess was still MINE, still WITH ME. As a matter of fact, according to that stupid sidebar, on 8/25/2010 I was writing about how happy I was that Starbucks and Dunkie's both brought back their caramel apple cider drinks. I drank those all the time when she was with me, and I will never drink another one again. I just know it will make me too sad; it will make me long for time to warp me back to the fall of 2010. Even if only so I can get a few more months with her inside my belly. On one hand, I am relieved to have the hardest stuff in my past - I am relieved that I know that never again will I have to leave the hospital without her, never again will I have to sign away my rights to her. On the other hand, though, I want to go back in time to the time I spent with her in the hospital. It sounds so confusing, and that's because I'm so confused. I want to go back to the time that I could freely see her, but I don't want to hurt anymore - I guess that's what that boils down to. But how could I be hurt being around her? I think it was because I knew we had to say 'goodbye,' although I didn't say goodbye to her, I told her 'see you later.' I guess hurt comes with all forms of love...the kind of love you feel for a friend can hurt when that friend turns on you, the kind of love you feel for a parent will hurt when you lose them, the love you feel for a boyfriend will hurt if he lies to you or when you break up, so why would the love you feel for a child be any different? It hurts even more, in my opinion. I have been blessed enough to not have lost a parent yet, and I am terrified for when that day comes. So I haven't experienced that yet, thank God, but I can imagine it can't be quite as bad as losing a child. Painful, but different.

The gist of my post was that I need to distance myself away from all of this social networking bullcrap. I deactivated it the other day, but by the end of the night I was back on it. It doesn't really do anything but frustrate me...

2011-08-23T22:15:00.026-04:00

I promised photos of my scrapbook, but due to my ever-so-apparent ADD, I got sidetracked uploading the photos and now I am off in la-la-land. My mouse sort of took over and guided me to the folder entitled "Arianna," and then the one entitled "Arianna (new)." The first is full of the 300 or so photos I took of her in the hospital and in the visits that followed after, in the days before I signed. Then, the next, which also has more photos than I even realized, is for the pictures I get from her Mommy and Daddy.

I am in awe that my baby girl has gone from a nakey, screaming baby to looking like a little "grown up"

in eight "short" months. I am amazed every time I see a photo of her at how much she has grown. It's still hard to comprehend that I created a human that is growing...that her body, her brain, just everything...have a job to do and know how to do it, and that I made that. She came out of me! It's hard to believe sometimes, still to this day. On one hand it makes me really sad that she is growing so rapidly and changing every single day and I am not there to witness it first-hand. But I try not to dwell on that, and rather look at how well she is doing where she is. She is truly flourishing where I have 'planted' her, granted, her parents deserve 99.9% of the credit for that...but I do deserve that small .01%, not so much for creating her life on this earth, but for putting her there (with her parents) in the first place. :)

Perspective

2011-08-22T15:19:00.087-04:00

I've come to realize, albeit it the hard way, that life is all about perspective. Someone will always have it better than you, and someone will always have it worse than you, and you just need to work with you and what you've been dealt or given. I have spent far too much time ruminating and just spinning circles of "what ifs?" What if she had been born a year later, what if I had finished school on time and graduated in 2010 like I would have if I had stayed on track, what if her father and I didn't constantly argue and could stay together? What if, what if, what if. Well, self, guess what. The "what ifs" don't matter because I can only deal with the "this is." This is the financial situation I am in, this is the relationship trouble I have, this is this is this is. What it was NOT was the type of life I wanted my child to have. I can't spend time comparing myself to others. I can't keep looking at girls younger than myself, raising their babies while living with their parents and having no job or car of their own. I can't get jealous of every pregnant woman I see, and I can't get upset with people who complain about their kids around me. I will start to hate everyone if I do that. I am not the type to put myself up on some kind of pedestal and scream, "I made a sacrifice and did what was best for my child, so everyone in a situation similar to mine, or worse off than mine, should do the same or they're wrong!" No, I wouldn't dream of doing that, and I don't feel that way. But sometimes it just stings me to see seniors in high school with a two year old. I don't necessarily feel jealous or feel like their child is "bad off," it just makes me wonder why I thought I couldn't do it. And then I realize - she and I are not the same person. Even if we lived in the same town, were the exact same age, and shared the same group of friends and had an identical family life and financial situation - we are not the same person. Deep down, I know that I made the decision that was best for my daughter and myself, and sometimes I do have to remind myself of that. If I don't, I start to wonder. I start to drive myself crazy, I question myself, I question my decision and I start to regret, even though I know deep down it was what was right. You know how they tell you to go with your first reaction when you take a multiple choice test, because your gut answer is usually the right one? It's kind of like that, only on a much, much larger (and heart breaking) scale). Once I processed all of it, and thought about the kind of situation my child would be raised in, adoption was my first thought. Obviously not my first choice, but my first thought, given my circumstances. After she was born, parenting became my first thought, but that was my heart speaking, my emotions overtaking the logical side of my brain. The day I left the hospital without her, parenting was still what I wanted, but I knew somewhere, deep deep down, that her life would be best off in the hands of two parents that were much more capable...ready and waiting to raise a baby. Ready and prepared to dedicate the next eighteen years+ to a beautiful little girl that they had dreamed of for years. I do still have my (very) hard days, but I know my daughter is where she belongs. She beat a lot of odds to be a part of this world; I diligently took my birth control, I didn't have any prenatal care whatsoever for the majority of my pregnancy (due to not realizing I was pregnant because the pills I took made my period vanish about a year and a half before), and she ended up with APGAR scores of 8.5 and 9.

All of this has got me thinking. We, as human beings, are controlling by nature. We like to have a set work schedule, we like to have a sleep schedule, we try to plan and plan and plan, but ultimately, life has a plan of it's own that it can enforce on you when and if it pleases. Look at it this way, for example. Couple A gets married, buys a house, saves and saves and saves, and then plans for a baby. They make sure they are financially ready, have a room ready, and are 100% certain (as certain as you can be - I realize parenthood is something you can never be 'ready' for until you have experienced it) that they are prepared for a baby. They try and try and finally conceive, and go to all of their ultrasound and NST appointments, do all the necessary bloodwork, drink lots of water and no soda, and refuse to let their bodies get stressed out. She makes her body the happiest, comfiest place in the world for her much loved and much wanted little baby. Then, a day before the baby is due, she goes in for one last ultrasound and finds out her baby has passed away. Then, someplace in the world, at the same time, Couple B is a young couple, not fully committed to one another in the sense of marriage or being together forever. They are not ready whatsoever for a child, have not finished school, have no savings, and just plain aren't ready. They don't realize they are pregnant until very late into the pregnancy, have had no genetic testing, no bloodwork, have drank soda for the entire pregnancy and have not been eating right. Their baby is born right on time, completely healthy and ready to go home in less than the mandatory two days in the hospital. Why does this happen? It happens every hour of every day everywhere. It's not fair, and truly demonstrates how, no matter how much we plan, things do not always go the way we intended. Couple A wanted and planned for a baby...they got pregnant on purpose, for a reason. Couple B tried to avoid getting pregnant and still did and had a healthy, smart baby. Life doesn't go as planned. That's why I have to take it day by day. I can't look too far into the future, it's too scary, too overwhelming, too dark right now. I get out of bed everyday by telling myself, "today I can live through the day without my daughter." Then, I do the same thing the next day. I've been doing it for months now. But, had you told me months ago that I'd still be saying it now, I'd think, 'how can I live without her for months? Years?' but I'm doing it. I'm alive. I'm not the happiest person on the planet, but it could be worse. I could be the woman in Couple A who doesn't have her child by her side because she passed away. On the other hand, it could be better. I could be the woman in Target with a 9 month old babbling away in her carriage. But, the point is, I'm neither worse off nor better off, I'm just me. I can't be compared to anyone else because I am no one else but myself. Just like no two people are alike, no two stories of motherhood are alike, either.

This is not the life I would have chosen for myself. Is that to say that if I had a choice, I would go back in time and make absolutely positively sure that my little girl would never have been conceived? I know it's contradictory, but I would absolutely not do that. All of this (the past, the present, and whatever the future holds) in terms of my daughter, was worth it the minute I saw her for the first time. The experience of that absolutely innocent, unconditional, overtaking love you feel when you see your very own baby in your arms, has and always will make all of this pain worth it to me.

On another note, I think I have a scrapbooking addiction. I print off each and every single Michael's and A.C. Moore coupon I can find, and somehow I managed to get 70% off my entire purchase this past weekend. I got about $25 worth of stickers and $8 or $10 worth of 12x12 paper for under $10.00! And, I know I'm getting a little ahead of myself, but I stocked up on Halloween stuff and birthday stuff. October and November are right around the corner, which is very hard for me to wrap my head around. Seriously, soon I'm going to have a one year old. Well, I guess I shouldn't use the word "have,"...but you know what I mean. No matter where she is, nothing will change the fact on her birthday that one year ago that day I gave birth to her....and that's what I mean when I say I'll have a one year old.

I suppose there's no guarantee that I'll even get pictures of her in her Halloween costume, but based on the way this year has gone so far (with photos on her first Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and 4th of July - all in her holiday outfits), I'm pretty positive I'll get at least a couple. And I pray and pray and pray that I will get photos around the time of her birthday! I took photos of my little collection of Halloween and birthday paraphernalia, of course...

...and I have since bought little white ghosts and these, because I can't help but think that the little girl at the bottom, in the pumpkin outfit, resembles my little girl if she were a cartoon. Whhaaat, she has the fair skin and the jet black hair, just like her! Hahaha. Now I'm itching for Halloween to get here so I can make her "11 month" page!

Transitioning...

2011-08-19T21:58:00.010-04:00

I did it - I quit my job. When I write it out, it screams "easy way out!," but trust me, it wasn't. It wasn't something I necessarily wanted to do, because more idle time is the last thing I need right now. The less spare time I have to sit around and think and ponder, the better. But I didn't sleep at all last night and had a sick feeling in my stomach all morning until finally I told myself to wake up and put my mental well-being first. I called (which is the ever-so classy way to resign from a job) and got it over with. I stated the exact reasons why I wanted to leave, and managed to get my point across and still maintain a level of professionalism. I was only there for a few months, and have no need to put this job on my resume or use it as a reference. Hopefully, since I am one of the many people to recently leave stating that this woman was the cause, maybe she will start to treat people with the respect and dignity they deserve. Who knows. The biggest weight has been lifted off my shoulders, knowing that I never have to set foot in that office again, or even drive by it ever again (it was over a half an hour drive away!)

I was feeling pretty down, though, about being "unemployed," even though I still work e/o Saturday at my old job. So, out of pure curiosity and to make myself feel a bit motivated, I sent my resume in response to two job openings I found online. Within fifteen minutes I got an email from the first one, asking me to call her. I called and got offered an interview for 1 o'clock, which was about an hour and a half after I sent the original email. JACKPOT! What are the odds? I quit one job at 11 and by 11:30 I have an interview set up for a better position, closer to home?! This brings me back to my new mantra that everything happens for a reason. I was over the moon. The interview went extremely well, and she said she has two other people to interview on Monday but she thinks I will be a perfect candidate and she will call me early next week to let me know when (if) I can start training. The hours work perfectly around my fall class schedule and the job is less than ten minutes from my house. The pay is $1.00 less than I made at the job I just resigned from, but the short travel time makes up for it...10 minutes versus 35 minutes for a dollar difference. I'll take it!

Things are slowly starting to fall into place. I've made a promise to myself that I will not use my new found free time to lay around in bed all day and be sad or what have you. I will still get up early (okay, maybe not at 5:50, but by 7:30) and go for a walk or do some form of exercise. I've never really dedicated myself to exercise, and I've heard it can really make your overall mood much much better. I don't want to sleep in until ten or eleven because then I will be restless all night, stay up tossing and turning until 2 or 3 in the morning and then sleep til eleven again the next day. I don't want to live like that anymore. So, I vow to get up early, put my time to good use, and continue pushing forward. Hopefully, by the time class starts up again, I'll be settled into this job (or a new job period) and have a daily routine going.

I want to be busy, just not overwhelmed. And mapping out my day as far as when I will go to work, when I will go for a walk, and when I will do schoolwork is something I can absolutely do...and I believe it will boost my happiness all around. And if I can't do it for me, I know I can do it for my little princess. They may seem like baby steps now, but in the long run they will pay off and help mold me into someone she can be proud of.

Not a fan of being a "grown-up..."

2011-08-18T11:54:00.056-04:00

I have some big decisions to make. My new job (which I started in April) is becoming far too stressful for me - or should I say, one person in particular at my job is becoming more than I can handle. I know I'm sensitive and I let people get to me a little too much, but this is a person who has caused five people to resign due to her attitude. And I mean five people in the past year. The icing on the cake was the other day when I was talking to a good friend from my previous job (the vet hospital I left to move on to this vet hospital I'm at now), I started to tell her how I'm overwhelmed and have anxiety about going to this job, and she said "Because of ______?" and I said yeah, and asked how she knew her. She told me that several people at the practice she is currently at have left the job I work at to go there because of this person. That was when I knew for sure that I wasn't overreacting. I do let situations get the best of me, I always have, but for the past couple of weeks, I've worked myself into such a frenzy that I have a headache and can't sleep the night before work. And I work there four days a week, so you can imagine how my mental health has been lately.
Normally, at any other point in my life, I would tell myself to suck it up, because I'm making decent money there (a four dollar raise from my previous job) and I work essentially full-time. 30 - 35 hours a week, versus the 18 I had at my other job, and the 15 - 18 I'd likely be offered elsewhere in this economy if I quit. But with a full-time class load looming ahead of me in just a few short weeks, and while I'm nearing the end of the "first year after placement," I'm not sure that this job is something I can handle in the fall. As I just said, I tend to let things get the best of me. When I'm sad, nothing can distract me, and when I'm happy, I'm over the moon and nothing can get me down. It sort of overtakes everything at that moment, almost as if I have bi-polar (although I've been 'tested,' and told that I do not). Anyways, with Halloween coming up (a small holiday, I know - but last Halloween I spent pacing the house and around 11 I ended up in the hospital with labor pains, so that may be a tough day to reflect on) as well as her first birthday, I don't know for sure what I can handle. I mean, it's what I've always done...gone to work everyday and then left to go to class. I've handled it before, and made good grades, at that. I would be confident that I could handle it now, too, if it weren't for this crazy person at my job causing me such anxiety. She is like the devil in human form. No exaggeration.

This is life. This is my life now. I'd like to think I'm "strong enough" to take all of this added stress on, but I want to still have SOME control over it. I truly like everyone else I work with and don't want to feel like I'm completely screwing them over, but I've lived most of my life making sure everyone else around me was happy because seeing others happy made me happy. But, now more than ever, I think I need to put myself first...my mental health first, and make making sure I get better a priority. I need to come out on the other side of this a better person, because that was part of the point. There's not much point in ensuring that my daughter has a better life if I'm not going to, in turn, work on mine as well. And I believe that this woman, this job in and of itself, is only going to hold me back. No, I don't want to be unemployed. But if having a dinky part-time job at a store somewhere or something for the fall is what enables me to have more time for schoolwork and still have a semblance of a steady income, then I'll have to do it.

On the outside, my job is perfect. A small animal medical practice, where I sit in a chair in an air-conditioned office at the computer and get to see adorable animals come in and out throughout the day. Plus, add on the money I make for sitting in said chair in the office and it sounds golden. Maybe I'm bored there, too. Who knows. I like to be busy, be moving, not sitting looking at a screen all day. In case anyone was wondering how I got off on this tangent about my job, I'll tell you. For one, I registered for classes today, and there is a class I need that happens to coincide with a day that I work. I started going into stress mode, wondering how I could change my schedule around and make it work because I need this class but also need a job, and they only allow for eight-hour + shifts at a time there. Then, it hit me. I need to leave anyways, because of the aforementioned psycho. And secondly (even though chronologically, this happened first), yesterday at about 3:30 in the morning my phone went off telling me I had an email. I almost always put it on silent, but I must have forgotten. Anyways, it was an email from my little girl's adoptive mom. She said she just wanted to check in and let me know that she knew it had been a while since she last wrote (it had only been a little over a month! :) what more could I ask for?) and that they just got back from their two week trip to visit her birth father. She said that this weekend she promises to send lots of "pictures, videos, etc" and that she just *had* to note that she was looking at "our little girl" today and realized she looks exactly like G now more than ever. That part sort of made me sad, but the email as a whole had me over the moon all morning. Not just the promise of pictures and videos, but the fact that she took a minute out of her night to tell me that she knew an update was 'overdue' and she had lots to share with me when she got a free minute. Little Arianna is nine months old and she has a two year old big brother, so I know that a free minute must be hard to come by in that house. I was practically giddy all morning, until I arrived at work and the anxiety set in. That, on top of a few other incidents, left me leaving work at 8:30 (an hour and 15 minutes after I got there). I realized that I had every right to be happy about the email and about the fact that I have such a great relationship with C + C and I don't want to let some person who means nothing to me, and who is nothing but a bully at my job, get me down. I haven't felt truly happy like that since the last update I got. Maybe that's unhealthy, I'm not sure, but that's what therapy is for, I guess. So the last thing I want to do is let someone get in my way of that. That's the only thing I have that's truly mine in terms of my little girl. Granted, I can share the email with my parents and with G (C + C said that is totally fine and they encourage me sharing the updates and the photos and will even write separate emails to her birth father if he wants) but they still are written to me, with the intent of keeping me as 'in the loop' as I can be with my daughter. If nothing else in this world ever makes me feel content or happy again, at least I know I'll always have those emails. They give me a happiness unlike anything I've ever felt. It's not the kind of "happy" you feel at Christmas, or when you win tickets to a concert, or when someone you have feelings for asks you out. It's not like when you study hard and get a good grade, or get a raise at work. It's something entirely different that I can't even explain to someone who isn't a first mom. Just like seeing your baby for the first time is a feeling that you only understand once you've given birth. It's an incredible feeling. And although all of my 'incredible' feelings that should solely be just that - incredible - have been tainted with some sadness, disappointment, and confusion, they have still been amazing and I would not change them for the world.

I'm not going to hold my breath that I will get the photos and update this weekend, because I don't want to look forward to it and wind up checking my email every fifteen seconds only to be let down. I would rather let it be a 'surprise.' There is a good chance she may get busy and not end up sending it til Monday or Tuesday night, and that is fine. It *will* come, even if it's not in a time frame that is ideal to me. One thing I am absolutely certain of is that she is a woman of her word and they so far have proved themselves to be a family of their word. I hope, with all of my heart, that I can still say that about them in five or ten years (and I'm 100% sure I will be able to).

The morning "News"

2011-08-16T12:26:00.001-04:00

I'm sitting here wondering why the News isn't called "The Bad News." We could have a weather channel, a traffic channel, and a BAD news channel. All you ever hear is bad, sad, sometimes devastating news. A hurricane, a flood, a murder, a robbery, a fire...I know the world isn't all sunshine and sparkles (and neither is life, and I am finally realizing the weight of that statement), but every time I watch or read the news, I wonder why I did in the first place. I was hesitant to post this link, because it is so gruesome and heart-wrenching, but I figured those who don't want to, don't need to click on it.

It absolutely disgusts me. I cannot imagine how that little boys mother felt, coming home to see that. I just can't even begin to comprehend it.

Stories like that make me wonder why I thought I wouldn't have been the best damn parent in the universe. I know I would have been a good mom, that wasn't a question. I may have thought I wasn't ready to be a mom, but as time goes on, I realize that I was ready to become a mom because even before she was born, I knew I needed to put her before myself. That's what makes a good parent. If only we lived in a perfect world where kids only needed love! This news article made me feel sick in the pit of my stomach. How does one take their own child's life? It's pitiful. I'd like to say that the poor boy is better off now, away from his psychotic "father," but that's just an empty condolence...what happened to that boy is unfair and disgusting. And I hope his father never sees the light of day again unless it's through a tiny barred window inside of an electrocuted fence.

Is it just me?

2011-08-15T19:58:00.051-04:00

Only I could find a way to become emotional in a bookstore! So, let me start from the beginning. I went to Barnes and Noble with my parents because my mom was looking for a book for none other than her friend from work's two-year-old. As we were going in the parking lot I saw a giant sign for some new store that's evidently going to be opening in the area called "Buy Buy Baby." (let's not even go into the fact that when you sound it out, it also says 'bye bye baby'). I saw it; I ignored it, as I do with most baby-related things lately. My mother then points it out and says, "ANOTHER baby store?! Seriously? All babies need is a crib, a onesie and a few packs of diapers!" That went through me like a rusty nail. I know I may have taken it a little too literally, but I wanted to scream that it was she who, while trying to "help" me, convinced me how much babies need and how much work they are and how much money you spend on clothes that they outgrow within a week, diapers, etc. It was one of those moments where I wanted to speak up and just say, "really? that's all?," but I knew it would make her feel awkward for saying it, and I've already been so on edge lately that they last thing I need is another argument with her. She didn't mean to be cold-hearted when she said it, but really? Obviously, that's not all that babies need; and even if it were, it wouldn't have changed my decision. For arguments sake, even if babies only needed a crib, a few outfits, and diapers...they still need a father, a college fund, a house to call their own (not always their 'grandparents house'), and a stable, secure family...not a father who is there when he feels like it, even if he loved her with all of his heart (which, I do believe that he loves her) it doesn't count when he is a fair-weather father. There is no such thing. You are there or you aren't. Same goes for me. I would have dropped her at daycare in the morning, only to work 9 - 5 or longer and pick her up, feed her, and put her to bed, just to wake her up and do the same thing all over again. That was one of the huge dealbreakers for me - the fact that her adoptive parents both have their own businesses and can work from home when need be...and, the fact that they have worked it out so that when one does have to leave for work, the other is always home. I mean no offense to anyone reading this, but in my opinion, having a child in daycare is like having someone else raise that child for you, as well. Yes, I am aware that adoption and putting your child in daycare are two completely different things, but I also agree with the argument that if your baby is with someone else from 8 - 6 five out of seven days a week, that person is going to be very, very close to them, and they may witness even more 'firsts' than the child's mother does. Again, no offense is meant, it's just my opinion. It's not something I wanted for my daughter. But I'm getting off track, again! Anywho, I was extremely irritated by the comment she made, so it sort of put me in a funk for a while. Then, I saw this book:

which also made me feel sad, for obvious reasons and also because the picture at the bottom left-hand corner looks exactly like one I took of Arianna in the hospital. The hat, the angle, the fact that she's all swaddled up in the blanket...it was the spitting image, only the baby looks different, of course.

And thus ends my story of the trip from hell to the bookstore.

The time to get away is long overdue

2011-08-14T18:06:00.018-04:00

I really think it would do me a world of good to just get away for a while. I don't mean permanently, I just need a change of setting. Everything in this town and the ones surrounding it on all four sides reminds me of something from the past that I don't want to be reminded of. Like where her father and I used to go to the movies. Hell, the highway that leads to the movie theater reminds me of him, only because that's the only way we used to go and everything else I do (work, school, friends, etc.) are all located on a different stretch of the highway. Or the place we used to go to work on his car (all three of the towns his garages have been in while I knew him), or the place we met, the beautiful lake/forest/whatever it is where we were the first time he kissed me, the Chili's we always ate at, the hotels we've stayed at....just everywhere. Then there's the really tough places to drive by...the OB/GYN office where I had my ultrasounds, the hospital where I had her, the road in Boston that leads to the adoption agency....UGH! I know if I leave, even for a little while, my 'troubles' will follow me. I know that. I don't think that some magic fairy would descend upon me and erase the past four years of my life..and I wouldn't want that even if it were an option. My relationship with him and of course the birth of my daughter have changed my life dramatically, but they've both molded me into who I am today (or, should I say, who I want to be. Because right now, I'm a mess - and that's putting it nicely). Anyhow, I lost track of where I was going with that, but the bottom line is, I need a change of scenery. I want to be away from the memories because I still need time to heal. The end of a relationship is a loss just as much as any other, and I need to give myself time to move on from it. I haven't even fully processed it yet, because I was (and am) so wrapped up in my little girl. Almost every thought I have every minute of every day is about her. I've heard that the first year is the hardest, so I'm not beating myself up over it. Hopefully I won't be this "focused" in another year or so. I don't think that a day will ever go by that I don't think of her - even if I'm married with four more kids, I don't think a day will pass without her in it. And she will always be in my heart, I have no doubt about that.
Her birth father has done a lot of things in the past to hurt me. I may have enabled him at times by putting up with his crap, but he knew what he was doing. We are both responsible for our relationship and where it went wrong, and we are both at fault for not going our separate ways sooner than we did. We tried, a few times, I remember. At the end of 2009, I gave him an ultimatim, basically, and told him that if he didn't change his ways and start taking things (and most importantly, us) seriously, then I was done. I told him we couldn't be friends, because he and I could not exist as 'just friends.' I was in love with him, and breaking up with him would have torn my heart out but being 'friends' would have torn it out and stomped on it. At least this was my thought process back then when I didn't know that I could, in fact, handle more than I thought. Anyways, weeks went on with us doing the same old thing and with me becoming more and more unhappy. Then sometime within the first month or so of 2010, my little girl became 'my little girl' inside of me and we didn't even know it. It's strange to think that if I had just held my ground and stuck to it, he and I would have parted ways last year, and I wouldn't be sitting here now talking about my nine month old daughter. It's one of the many reasons that I believe she was meant to be a part of this world and I was meant to be her medium to get to her family.
It's weird. I don't miss him necessarily, I just miss having someone. I want to text him when I see a car that I know he would have liked, a car like the ones we used to see at the car shows we always went to. I want to text him when I hear someone say something that I know would have made him laugh, or when I hear something that pertains to some silly inside joke we had. We had hundreds. I miss him as my best friend, I miss the person he was and the way he and I were when we were just that - best friends. Before we became so much more than that. And even when we speak now, about Arianna, that's what I hear in his voice and what I miss more than anything else we shared...his friendship. I do wish we could be friends. I wish I could feel absolutely no anger, no resentment, no jealousy towards him. I wish that part of me didn't blame him for the fact that I don't have my daughter. I try to act as if I don't, and ultimately I know that it was my decision and it was the RIGHT decision, but there's an illogical part of me that thinks that if someone else had been her father, I would have her here now. Which is a silly thought, because if someone else had been her father, she wouldn't be who she is. To wish that she had a different birth father is to wish that she were different, too, and I love her to pieces just the way she is. Therefore, I know it's illogical to think that way. But anyways, I wish he and I could start fresh and treat each other the way we did in the beginning (minus the falling in love part). Our daughter could still be a part of this world, still live with C + C and her big brother, and still be a part of our lives as much as possible...but he and I wouldn't have this history that we do. Wow, I'm rambling.....again.
I was getting dressed today and as I was going through my bureau I could see myself in the mirror on my wall out of the corner of my eye, and I stopped and looked at my stomach and I was in absolute awe that I grew a person inside of there. It's still hard to comprehend. I'm sure it's hard for anyone who has a baby, but it's even more mindblowing when I don't have her here with me. Sometimes I wonder if I really carried her for nine months and delivered her. But then I have those reminders...the stretch marks on my hips, the sports bra that I had to wear for a couple weeks after she was born, because even though she wasn't here, Mother Nature decided to have a good laugh and keep my milk coming in for at least a week and a half afterwards...and the fact that sometimes I *still* pee a little if I sneeze really hard. Sorry if that's TMI, but hey, this is a blog about my baby, so there's gonna be some not-so-pretty sides to it :). But sometimes it feels as if she was never inside my tummy. It feels as if she was mine for a few days and then she became someone else's. It's something I can't really explain, something I think only the others who have gone though this can understand. Sometimes I rest my hand on my stomach and push down slightly, just bearing a tiny bit of pressure, like I did when I was pregnant...and I still expect her to kick me like she used to. Without fail, any time of the night or day when I did that, she would push back. Sometimes it was harsh (so I think that must have been her kicking), and sometimes it was a little more gentle, so I think that was when she was pushing back with her hands. I miss her being in there. The last few nights, I could barely get in and out of bed without help, and I was angrier and angrier by the day that it was my mother helping me and not her father (the way it "should" have been, in my eyes) and I couldn't sleep, and I was constantly hungry, but I'd give anything to have that discomfort back because it would mean having her back. I do have a feeling deep down inside that she is where she belongs...where she is best off. But I have those moments where I just want her in my arms, and where it physically hurts that I can't and don't. I've spent a total of about three hours between last night and today looking at this picture...

I love that photo of us. I have probably 10 or 15 photos of she and I together, but that one is one of my favorites. My absolute favorite is the one of me holding her when she was about a minute old. I look a mess, my face is puffy from the intravenous fluids and my hair is a wreck, but that was the most amazing moment of my life, and when I look at that photo it all comes back to me. I experience that love you feel when you first hold your baby all over again. Okay, my hands hurt now, so I'm off to watch an episode of Pit Boss that I DVR'ed last night. If you're an animal lover and don't watch that show, you should! It makes me laugh, cry, and think all at once. Then again, the laughing one minute and crying the next thing comes naturally to me these days...hahaha.

Rant

2011-08-11T20:19:00.003-04:00

One comment that really gets under my skin is this: "you definitely made the right choice!" Really? I know it's mean to be reassuring, it's meant to be a positive comment, it really is. I also know that it's a bit of an awkward subject when it's suddenly sprung upon someone who had no idea. In short, an old friend who has actually taken a step back into being an acquaintance asked me (via facebook message) if it was true that I had had a baby. I found it a silly question because I have photos of her on my facebook (ones that were taken in the hospital, as well as some newer ones that only my friends can see. I stress the word 'friends' because I have almost 300 facebook friends and nearly all of them are people I went to elementary school and high school with. They cannot see all of my profile) and when she was about 3 or 4 months old, I openly stated something about her. So it was no secret as it once had been when I was pregnant. Anyways, I responded and told her yes and she replied saying she wishes she had known because she would have gotten her a blanket or given her a gift. I explained that I never even had a baby shower and that I had chosen adoption for her. It was an impersonal setting, yes, and it was out of the blue, yes, but I had to reply and I couldn't just act as if I still had her here beside me. She replied saying she hadn't realized that and that she was sorry she had been so casual about offering the blanket, etc. This is the part that irked me: it almost seemed like she was trying to justify my own actions to me. She then said that I 'definitely made the right choice.' Now, I know she was trying to be nice and wasn't sure how. And honestly, before I had my daughter, if someone told me the very thing I had just told her, I probably wouldn't be sure what to say without stepping on any toes. It can be awkward, I get it. But I was annoyed because this is a person who (a) doesn't know anything about my education, other than that I'm still in school, (b) doesn't know anything about my relationship with her birth father or anything about her birth father PERIOD, (c) doesn't know anything about my living situation, and (d) just plain doesn't know much of any of the circumstances surrounding the adoption in the first place. I am not a drug addict, I am not piss-poor, I am not an abusive person, I am not a child molester. I don't have "I'm incapable of raising a child" plastered on my forehead. I could have and would have been a great mom. But the problem is, a child needs more than love to survive, even though I love and would have loved her more than anything in the entire world for the rest of my life. I see that a lot - people saying 'you made the right choice' when they don't know WHY the choice was made in the first place. Maybe I sound ungrateful. I don't care. Even if she had said "you're her mom, so if you did what you felt was best for her, then you made the right choice," that would have put a completely different spin on it. I wanted to ask her why she thought that. I wanted to tell her she knows nothing about why the decision was made. I wanted to tell her I changed my mind a few days before I signed the papers and started ordering baby supplies online. I wanted to tell her that the only reason I was able to go through with it was because I found a couple (a family) that was absolutely more perfect than I could have dreamed of for my baby. I wanted to tell her that my daughter's bio father already had a child and he didn't spend a lot of time with her as it was and I didn't want my baby coming second to him. I didn't tell her that YES, I was in a relationship at the time and I wasn't 'abandoned' by him, so that did NOT affect my decision. There's a plethora of things I wanted to say, because I felt as if I was being judged. Bottom line. I WAS being judged. Maybe not intentionally, but I felt as if I was being looked down upon. Patronized. I don't know. I'm just in a bad mood tonight, that's all. I thought maybe writing would take some weight off my shoulders, but instead it's just making me more frustrated and causing me to think of even more 'condolences' that are more hurtful than helpful. So, here's a list, not directed at anyone in particular:

PLEASE don't:
(1) tell me I did the 'right' thing (I know you mean well, but just...don't)
(2) tell me that I should have been offered more help (from her birth father, from my parents, etc)
(3) tell me you could 'never go through with it' if you were pregnant (it may seem like you're trying to make me feel strong, but in reality, it makes me feel like I did something awful and evil and heartless)
(4) tell me you don't know how I did it (same criteria as #3)
(5) beat around the bush when it comes to my adoption. Don't NOT ask me if I got pictures, don't be afraid to ask about her. She is the one thing in the world that I am most proud of. Yes, it might make me cry at first, but deep down I will be overjoyed that you asked...that you thought about her long enough to ask how she is doing, and that you still consider her to be a part of me.

Okay, end rant. I don't mean to offend anyone, and I am surely not talking about anyone who is reading this right now. I just had to blow off some steam, that's all.

School and other ramblings...

2011-08-09T17:25:00.042-04:00

I got a voice mail yesterday while I was at work. It was from my college, and they were telling me that the 10-day course I signed up for that was supposed to start tonight was canceled due to not enough people enrolling in it. Bleh. I needed that course to keep me on track to graduate in December. Now, I'm set back another semester, unless I can take another class at another school that can transfer over in time. To put it simply, this sucks. I don't know if I can handle seven classes at once on top of a nearly full-time job, while simultaneously dealing with this overwhelming urge I have to not even get out of bed in the morning. It seems like it may be too much to handle...too much, too soon. When I apply myself, I excel. Learning has always come easily for me, when I apply myself. But ever since my pregnancy, the adoption, the break-up, my world basically shifted completely and I have very little drive left in me. I dropped out of school in the fall semester because it became too much to handle. No one was 100% sure of my due date since I was pretty far along when I found out, and while my due date was Oct. 28, I knew I could have her at any minute. I knew for a fact that we could have conceived her at the beginning of January, the middle, or the end, as well as the beginning of February or even the middle. So only she knew when she was planning to come. In short, that (as well as the decisions I knew I had to face when she finally did decide to come) overwhelmed me to the max, so I dropped out mid-semester. I got to medically withdraw, so I was reimbursed for my classes, but that doesn't help much when you've just set yourself back an entire semester. I don't regret doing it, because I wanted to spend as much time with my little girl while she was in my belly as I could, and also because I knew I would be in no mental state to return to class and actually do well after she was born. I wouldn't have gone back to school til the 2nd week in November, and I would have missed too much. Anyways, I'm pretty ticked off about the fact that this class was canceled, because I'm looking at it as another entire semester wasted. I will need to continue going to class from January - May just for this ONE class. Ugh. I know it will be worth it in the end, but I have this idea in my head that I need to strive to do my best right now, and I don't want to wait another year to graduate. I promised my little girl I would graduate. I know she's only 9 months old, and if I stay on track she will not even be two by the time I'm done, but still. I also know, at that age, she won't even realize that I've graduated. Let's face it, she still will barely know who I am, let alone what I'm doing with my life.

Oh, I almost forgot! I was honored to be featured on this blog! I have to admit that back when I was pregnant, I was looking for information online and came across that very blog. I remember thinking to myself that those women were SO strong, but that they must be sad all the time. How naive! It's incredible how much my perception has changed now that I've gone through it myself.

Until next time...

Dreams, or nightmares?

2011-08-08T19:18:00.002-04:00

Last night, I had a really really strange dream. I won't get into it, because it was filled with this creepiness that has resonated throughout my day. Usually, I forget my dreams within five minutes of waking up, even if I vividly remembered them when I first woke up. Anyways, the night before, I also had a weird dream, but it was weird in a good way. In my dream, I was back in the hospital with my little girl, but instead of that sad feeling being in my gut the entire time, I was very happy. She was a newborn, but she was talking to me as if she were an adult. Not in a creepy way like it sounds, but we were communicating with real words, not 'baby speak.' She told me (or reassured me) that she wanted to go to live with her new parents and she didn't mean to hurt me, but she, too, knew that her life would end up being better. She told me she would not be happier either way; she would love to go home with me and also love to go home with them, but that she had a better shot at success with the other family. It instantly reminded me of this entry I wrote in my livejournal exactly 6 months ago. Strange. I do wish it were true (what I wrote in the link above). While it would have crushed me to hear my little girl tell me she'd rather be raised by someone else, at least it would have taken away any teeny tiny doubt that I had in my mind. Listen to me, saying my decision would have been easier if a two day old baby spoke her mind and wishes to me.

2011-08-07T20:08:00.000-04:00

Talk about a lazy day! Last night, I went to see The Change Up with my friend and her older brother. I was apprehensive at first because I watched the trailer and one of the main points in the story line was the fact that one of the main characters was a 'family man,' complete with a set of 15-month old twins, so I wasn't sure if I was completely on board to sit through it...but it ended up being pretty funny. (if you enjoy meaningless, crude humor, which I do from time to time). Anyways, it was a late movie and I didn't get to sleep until after 2 a.m., so I took advantage of the fact that I had no homework to do today and stayed in bed until well after eleven. I haven't done that in a while, so it was nice. I woke up to rain pounding against my window and my backyard looking like a rain forest...

But I enjoy the rain every now and then. Lately the sun and all of the happiness has been making me irritable, as I mentioned in one of my earlier posts. So this weather is actually a nice break. It gives me a more justifiable excuse to lay in bed all day, curled up under a blanket with my laptop and a few good DVDs, and my little Lily of course.
Oh, I did do one thing today. I decided to switch purses! Cleaning those out is always a treat. They start out perfectly compartmentalized and organized and I solemnly swear to keep them that way, but within a week or so, everything is strewn about and nothing can be found when it needs to be! But look what I DID come across...

...the evil birth control. It was a slap in the face, to say the least. The bag I found it in must have been the one I had with me at the doctors the day I found out I was pregnant. I found out on a Tuesday...and that's also the night I stopped taking it. I haven't laid eyes on that white plastic case or those mint-green pills in forever. (side note: I'm not posting this to advertise the brand of the pills or to give them a bad name. Yes, I did take them religiously at 8:00 each night, and still found myself pregnant, but that's not the point of the picture). It's strange...I used to look at those pills as a way to prevent having a baby, but now I see them as things that "should have" stopped my little girl from being here, and I am actually really glad that they didn't.

Hopefully someday soon I'll get some more pictures of my little princess!

At last...photos!

2011-08-06T09:58:00.082-04:00

No, not photos of my little princess. I'm still waiting on those. It's only been a month, actually, but a month feels like a century when she's growing so fast and I don't want to miss a single stage. I realize how blessed I am to get photos and a 5 or 6 paragraph update once a month...that's more than I could have dreamed of. Maybe one day I'll write an entry on how much I adore my daughter's a-parents, we'll see. Anyways, the photos I'm talking about are the ones of her birth father. It only took him a few months, but that's water under the bridge because they're in my hands now and that's all I wanted. He still has a few more to get to me, he just needs a little more time to "dig them out," according to him. He gave me one when he was probably 3 or 4 months old, one when he's about 7, one when he was 11, and a more recent one in which he is 28 or 29. I have a few of him that were taken within the last two or three years, so all that's missing is some from his toddler stage. The majority of the photos of myself that I wanted to include in the scrapbook are from when I was younger...starting around the time of my baptism and going up until I'm five or so. Those are the years, in my opinion, where you really change the most...not so much when you're 11, so I sort of wish he had given me more from his baby years. I've learned to take what I can get from him, though. I met up with him after work, and we actually ended up talking for over an hour. It was one of the first decent conversations we've had in the past few months (since we actually rarely speak), and it was going well until the end. Somehow it came up that we shouldn't even be talking (I think I was the one to segue way into it) and I said that I felt stupid for just having spent so much time with him because I know better. I know it's wrong, and I'm still putting myself in that position. He told me the last thing he wants to do is make me feel stupid, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt my feelings any more than he already has in the past. He told me how strong I am, which I don't necessarily agree with. It took some super-human strength to leave the hospital on November 4th without my daughter, yes, but I don't know where it came from. It wasn't me - if I had to relive it, and do that one part over again, I'm not sure that I could. Anyways, I ended up crying, over something I can't remember right now. We were talking about the photos and I remember him saying "our daughter" and I lost it. That's one of the reasons I can't be around him - every time I'm around him, I feel as though she should be there, too. It's me and him and someplace else in the world, there's a little version of me and him combined...doesn't it seem only natural for her to be there? I left right then and there, because I didn't want to stand there crying like an idiot while he hugged me and thus made me cry even more. I got home, had dinner, and called it an early night and went to bed around 9:30. Then my phone rang at 2 a.m. and it was him, wanting to make sure I was okay because he felt 'messed up' for making me so upset. According to my phone log, we only spoke for 6 minutes, but somehow I managed to tell him that it wasn't he who made me cry, it was more the fact that I miss my daughter. I also explained to him how I feel her presence lacking even more when I'm with him than I do when I'm alone, and that's hard for me...and lastly, I told him that the whole reason for us meeting (to get the pictures) was sad in and of itself, for me, because it's not natural that the only way my own child will recognize me is because of a picture. Or should I say, the only way she will recognize us is through a few pictures. Apparently that made him upset, too, because his voice started cracking and he told me he didn't feel like talking anymore and would have to talk to me later. Oops. I was just being honest.

Another oops: this post turned out to be mainly about her father, and not about her. But I guess he is part of the whole adoption story, anyways, so it's okay. I don't have much to update about my little girl at the moment, sad to say. They are traveling right now and as we speak (or as I type), she is seeing more of the country in her nine months of life than I have in my 23 years. Good for her, though. That's what I wanted for her, among all the other things she has....swimming, music class, "pre-preschool" next year (which, again, I didn't even know existed)...those are all luxuries I most likely would not have been able to offer her.

So, I leave you with this:

He couldn't deny her even if he tried ;)

Two steps back

2011-08-04T08:25:00.126-04:00

My best friend asked me how I was doing the other night. She had moved to Europe about a month or so after Arianna was born...a month in which she reached out to me time and time again and all I wanted to do was stay curled up in my bed. I hadn't gone back to work yet, and I had just gotten news that I would have to get my gallbladder out in the middle of December, so I had no place to be and all the time in the world to be there. She came to the hospital to see my little angel and she held her and it was just wonderful. I had only wanted certain people there; my parents, her father, and the person who would have been her "auntie," had I taken her home. She saw how I was in the hospital, and she knew how I was when I left, and despite the fact that I turned down almost every invite down to her house to say 'goodbye' before she moved, she still told me that no matter what she was there for me and just wanted to let me know she was always a phone call away, but didn't want to smother me when she knew I was at my lowest. Can a friend get better than that? When my other friends didn't know quite what to say around me, she would ask how I was and give me a huge hug. Anyways, she's home now for a bit, and that was how the question of my well-being came up. I told her the truth, and the conversation evolved more into becoming a conversation about her birth father because he played such a huge role in my decision making, despite the fact that he told me not to think of him and to only think of myself and my daughter. Ha. Very funny. Of course I had to think of him - it was he who would be arguing with me every other weekend, he who would argue with me over who was paying for dance class, etc, etc. But, back a few days before I signed the papers, when I was dead set on parenting, I asked him if he would sign away his paternal rights (therefore not having to pay child support or anything but losing any legal rights to see his daughter, so neither she nor I would have had to deal with him) he said no. Part of me was annoyed that he wouldn't just give us that peace, but part of me was relieved to know that he wanted to be involved, at least in a minimal way. But that's neither here nor there at this point in time, anyways. I'm going off on a tangent.

Remember how ecstatic I was a month ago this very day? It was July 4th, and since the 1st I had had a steady, ongoing email conversation with her adoptive parents which included photo after photo, and finally a group of photos that was so large, she had to condense it into a PDF to send them. I haven't gotten any photos since - but that's not really the point (right now, anyway.)

The point is, I remember being so truly happy that day...the day I went to sleep right after getting a photo of my little girl wearing the sneakers I had just sent to her...the day I woke up to a photo sent to my cell phone of her in a wagon, waving two American flags around. Seeing her actually grasp things and hold onto them blew my mind. It seems like such a small thing, but the last update and set of photos I had gotten of her only showed her grabbing onto things that were permanently fixated to other things - like the dangling things on her mobile, or those bendy plastic toys in her bouncy chair. Holding onto the flags seemed like it was a much bigger advancement, because they could fall at any moment. But she was holding on tight. Coincidentally, that's what I'm trying to do right now - hold on tight. Hold on to the reasons why I did this, and hold on to the fact that I cut ties with her father because I am better off without him. I can't lose sight of that, I can't lose sight of my degree, I can't lose sight of bettering myself so she will be proud of me.

It's just that lately, I've been miserable. I can't pinpoint exactly why, but I can feel myself slipping. I don't know if it's because she just turned 9 months old and 9 months is the amount of time you're pregnant for. She was fully, completely MINE for 9 months, and now for the past 9 months she's been C's.
It hit me when my friend asked me how I was. I told her the truth, and saying it out loud only validated it. I know there's no timeline for grieving this, and I refuse to set myself one, but I feel in my heart that the way I feel now is the way I should have felt six or seven months ago. I was in denial. The only way to not sob at my ultrasounds...the only way to not sob all over the relinquishment papers until they were so soggy they were illegible...was to pretend it wasn't happening to me. I think I must have pretended it was happening to someone else, but I was the one living it. I put on a smile when I returned to work, I put on a smile when I saw my friends, all because I was terrified and on the edge of tears at every moment. So, I faked it. I faked it around my family, I faked it everywhere I went, so I wouldn't lose it. Those were the only two options in my mind at the time: fake it or lose it completely. I got so good at it that I even started convincing myself. I remember feeling really guilty one day a couple months ago because I thought to myself, "I'm doing really well with this. I feel like I should be more sad, but I'm actually okay..." Wrong. Truthfully, I haven't been 'okay' since I found out I was pregnant. How can you be okay, happy, content, knowing you have to make such life-altering decisions? Knowing that you want your baby to have the best of the best, but knowing that giving her that means you may not see her again for ten, even twenty years?

Anyways, after that conversation with my friend, I realized I need to snap out of this. I need to let myself be miserable, I need to stop being afraid to feel things and let myself be sad. I know it's a little late, but better late than never. Better now than when she's three or four years old. Everyone says it gets easier, time will heal me. blah blah blah, but this is coming from people who have never been in my shoes. I know it will get harder before it gets easier. These past few months, she's just been a baby. How hard will it be when she starts talking (real words)? Or when I find out I've missed her first steps? Obviously, I know I'm going to miss her first steps, but I mean, how hard will it be to hear it? What about when she develops her own little personality? How will I cope with not knowing how her voice sounds, or if she laughs like me or her dad? The harder parts are yet to come, and I need to know how to deal with them.

So, for the past few days, I have not wanted to get out of bed. The thought of going to work makes me physically ill. The idea of knowing I don't have a 'safe place' to run to if I want to cry (like my bed) makes me anxious. I'm looking out my bedroom window at this very moment, and seeing the clear blue sky and hearing the happy little birds chirping is making me irate. I can't sleep. I just want to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling and remember how it felt to feel the weight of her in my arms. All 8 pounds, 14 ounces of her. If I think about it enough, I can still feel the starchiness of the hospital blankets on my cheek as I would snuggle her against me. I can still feel her squeezing my finger when I put it against hers. I remember how all four of her fingers, horizontally, were as long as my pointer finger. I remember looking at her fingernails, her toenails, her eyelashes, and watching her move...and being in awe that I made her. I remember lying beside her the last night in the hospital, just watching her breathe, and not being able to wrap my head around the fact that her lungs were created inside me. I created a life, another human being who would grow up to be someone someday. Of course, she already was someone to me - she was everything to me.

People tell me how strong I am. How people like me deserve so much credit for being the most selfless people on the planet. So why do I feel so selfish? I feel like I'm being selfish to everyone around me by locking myself up in my room and barely talking to anyone. I'm pushing everyone away; I can feel it. I just want to get better. My wish is for my daughter to have the happiest, most amazing life she can, and for myself to have as happy and productive a life as I can, even though she's not by my side. I can move on from this, I know I can. I know I will always feel sad from time to time, I've learned to accept that, and I don't think it's too much to ask. But I can tell you one thing for sure... I don't want to feel like this for the rest of my life. Not the way I feel now. Stuck in a rut. This is not doing anything or anyone any good - not myself, not my school work, not my job, not anyone around me, and most importantly, not my daughter. When she and I meet again, I want to be successful and independent. Do I want to be married? I don't know - that's not something that's even on my mind at the moment. All I know is I do not want to be struggling, I do not want to have some odd number of college credits that don't really amount to anything, and most of all, I don't want to be so depressed that I need to depend on medication, or anything else for that matter. I want to be strong, I want to be someone she admires and maybe, just maybe, can look up to. I want to be there for her without taking the place of her mom, I want to be her best friend. How can I even dream of that when I'm not even my own best friend? I love her more than anything in the world, but I feel like I can't love her as much as I should when I'm struggling to love myself.

2011-08-02T20:08:00.010-04:00

Today, my little angel turned 9 months old at 6:31 a.m.

I'm not ready for time to be moving this fast. I'm not ready to accept the fact that it's been eight months and nineteen entire days since I've held my daughter, or since the last time I kissed her forehead and told her "I will always love you forever."

I'm not ready to face her first birthday, which will be here in three short months which will go by in the blink of an eye. Not ready, not ready, not ready. So I won't pretend to be. I don't know if I can be strong for this one.

"Nice mom..."

2011-08-01T18:52:00.065-04:00

This weekend was eventful, while also being uneventful at the same time. I was off this weekend, and it was the first weekend in a while that I've had Saturday off, so I planned to spend it doing absolutely nothing and enjoying every minute of it. The problem is, once I do "nothing" for about 15 minutes, I start to get bored and/or I think too much and overanalyze every situation in my life until I make myself upset or sad. So, Friday night after work, I watched a movie and went to bed early. It was nice to go to bed early without the intent of getting up at 5:50 a.m. for work. Saturday, I slept late and got up and did some stuff I had to do for school, and then on a whim, the idea of getting my tragus pierced crossed my mind for the millionth time. I just had that feeling - you know, where you want to get something pierced. I had wanted it back in high school, but the yearning had sort of faded away after a while. Maybe (probably) because he (Arianna's father) told me that they looked 'trashy,' and thought that girls should only have one piercing in each ear...who knows? Either way, it was sort of a spontaneous thing, yet it was something I'd wanted for a while, so I went and got it done. I paid with my debit card and didn't have any cash on me, so after it was done, I said I was going to run to the ATM down the street and get some cash to leave a tip. While I was in the ATM, a little old Chinese lady (or is it Asian? I don't know the politically correct word for races anymore, it seems like it changes every day) came in and stood behind me. Out of the blue, she says, "Is that your name? On your foot?" and I said "Oh, no..." and she looked at me so I explained further and told her it's my daughter's birthday. So she asks me how many daughters do I have, to which I replied none. (In my head, I was thinking, is it one? Or none? One? None? One!) Then she repeats what I said and says "it's her birthday on you?" and I said yes. Then she says, "Ohh...what a nice mom you are, huh!" And all I could do was smile and nod. If only she knew. If she knew I wasn't legally my daughter's parent anymore, would she have thought that? If she knew I haven't held my daughter or seen her in person in over eight months, would she have thought that? Or, on the other side of the coin, if she knew I chose a better life for her, would she have thought that even more? My heart swelled with pride when she said it, though, not because I think of myself as a 'good mom,' but just because I was recognized as a mom, even if only for a minute, and even if only by someone who hasn't the slightest clue about the situation.

As I've said before, I don't regret my decision. Sometimes it gets to me, though....the fact that I know I could have done it. I would have done a great job, even without her father. Hell, I probably would have done a better job without her father in the picture, screwing things up left and right. The littlest things get under my skin lately. It's not even the big picture, necessarily, that bothers me. It's the little things that all amount to the fact that she's not with me anymore. Every car I see with a car seat makes me cringe inside a little and makes me a little envious. I don't know where I'm going with this. Adoption used to be just another word to me, like the the word "radio," or some other word that you wouldn't think twice about. Now, whenever I hear it at work, a million thoughts pop into my head all in that one nanosecond it takes someone to say the word. I think about the hospital, I think about my huge belly the day before she was born, I think about her father, I think about where I was when I found out, I think about the conversation I had with him the night I told him. I think about meeting her parents for the first time, I think about the emails, updates, pictures. And I do this all the time. Working at a veterinary hospital, the word 'adopt' is as common as the word 'and.' "I need to schedule an appointment, I just adopted a new dog!" Or "I just adopted this kitten, do you think she misses her mother? Or her brothers and sisters?" NO, AND I WANT TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE FOR ASKING. Not really, but you get the idea.

I'm in awe of the fact that she's going to be nine months old tomorrow. It's unbelievable. I better start preparing emotionally for her birthday now, because it's around the corner.

To-die-for pink sandals

2011-07-26T20:00:00.000-04:00

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 :)

My tattoo. . .

2011-07-25T19:05:00.046-04:00

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...

Today...

2011-07-24T19:50:00.002-04:00

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 anymore...it'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.