What Keeps Me Smiling

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

Writer's Block

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

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

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

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.

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!

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

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!

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

My four-legged Christmas Cards :)

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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!

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

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

"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