Officially 2 Days Into Fall

Oh, so much has been on my mind lately. Contrary to all of the things I spill in my blog, I'm a pretty private person by nature. I have a few close friends that I tell all to, but even then, I sometimes hold back.
When it comes to blogging, I have to hold back a lot to protect the privacy of some people involved (i.e. A's adoptive family, my family, and her birth dad). But you know what? I can say what's on my mind and still be respectful. I don't know what the point of having a blog is if I am not going to use it to get these weights off of my chest. I never name names.
That being said, I think I will be writing (or some may call it 'venting') a lot more in the next few months. My little one's second birthday is coming up, and my head is already spinning thinking about that.
A lot has happened over the past couple of months between her birth father and I, and I've kept quiet because it's easier to vent to my friends via text than it is to sit down and write coherent sentences. But, you know what else? To him, I say:

On Saturday, I got a new tattoo. It's something I drew up at work a couple of weeks ago (I know, I know, I broke my own rule - my "one year rule," which was to decide I want a tattoo, wait a year, and if in a year I still wanted the exact same tattoo, I'd go get it. Yeah, this decision started and ended all within a month). In order to explain it, I have to give away the first letter of Arianna's name - her name now. We both share the same first letter in our names - "E." It's also really the only letter that you can turn into the shape of a heart (besides "M," I guess). So from a forward-facing view, it's a cursive "E," and from a side view, it's a heart with some little swirls in it. Either way, it's both the letter and a heart and it is drawn with no 'breaking point,' showing how we are connected as "one." I absentmindedly drew it at work one day while I was writing my name. I loved it, so I went with it. Here it is:

This photo doesn't necessarily do it justice - it's an Instagram'd picture I took, and it makes it look as if the lines are bleeding. They're not, though. How do you guys like it?

Sarah McLachlan ~ Fallen

Heaven bend to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight

Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear

Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...

We all begin with good intent
Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past could be undone
But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning
In the wound that would not heal
It's the bitter taste of losing everything
That I've held so dear.

I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...

Heaven bend to take my hand
Nowhere left to turn
I'm lost to those I thought were friends
To everyone I know
Oh they turn their heads embarrassed
Pretend that they don't see
But it's one missed step
One slip before you know it
And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed

Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...

Fall: Emotion-packed

Fall has been such a tough time for me ever since A was born. It always has been and always will be my favorite season. I love just about everything about the months between and including September and December. The cooler weather, the smell in the air, the leaves all over the ground, the days getting shorter and nights getting longer. Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas. My favorite holidays. Fall of 2007 was the "best time of my life," or so I thought. Now this season brings on bittersweet emotions that I sometimes wish I never had to deal with in the first place. That's not to say I wish I never had my daughter, not at all. I mean to say that I wish I could look back on my pregnancy and remember feeling joy, with no fear, sadness, or guilt....I wish I could look forward to planning her 2nd birthday party in November. I know it's for the best, I really do know this. But that doesn't make me happy about it. I lived through it, but I am not yet sure that I survived it.
I am excited that it's September. I am not excited about all of the tiny Halloween costumes that are already starting to be sold in every retail store in every city ever. I'm not excited about Christmas this year, even though it's my 2nd favorite holiday (next to Halloween). I am very scared about her birthday. I handled her 1st birthday better than expected, because we Skyped with her and I am pretty certain (no, actually, I am sure) it was the best evening of my life. Her adoptive mom suggested it last year. So now here we are, approaching her 2nd birthday, and I'm not sure if I should ask if we can do it again, or wait and see if she suggests it. If I ask and she says no, I will be crushed. If I don't ask and she doesn't bring it up, I'll beat myself up over not taking the risk and asking. I would love to make it into a tradition with them.
I think I will wait until mid-October and when we chat about gift-giving, maybe I'll bring it up then. I know she already knows I would love to do it, and I know she already knows that no matter what my schedule may be that weekend, I will make time to do it. I would do anything for that little girl, although it seems silly to say that because she is only two, and the Skyping would be 99% for me. So, I guess I'll have to go with the flow and see what happens...I'll pray that she brings it up, and if she doesn't, I'll hope for a good opportunity to throw the idea out there myself. 

Trying Something Different...

I have been a TERRIBLE blogger. So I've decided to write to all of my faithful readers (hahaha) to see if anyone has any questions they are dying to ask of me...anything you've been wondering or have wanted to know! Meaning anything about me personally, or my adoption story (I will share anything that doesn't invade the privacy of her adoptive parents or birth father). After all, if I'm answering questions, I should only answer those which are mine to answer!

Maybe this will prompt some writing ideas! You can ask here or email me.

THIS JUST IN.

Yesterday, I showed up to what I thought was my 12:15 appointment at the OB/GYN office. After sitting there, waiting to check in, amidst a sea of pregnant women and infants, I was finally called to the desk. It was then that I was told that my appointment was at 11:15 and they couldn't fit me in. I have never, ever missed an appointment or been late to an appointment. Maybe it's the veterinary hospital receptionist in me, but I think it's one of the rudest things to stroll in an hour late or to blow off an appointment altogether. The receptionist was understanding, and said they could squeeze me in today at 4:00.
I don't know if I've said this before, but I absolutely love my doctor. She is the sweetest, most amazing woman I've ever met - and it's funny, because she says the same about me (see how sweet she is?)! She's been there for me since my first prenatal visit and she is still just as attentive and caring now as she was then. She never fails to make me cry, but it's in a good way. I'm one of those people who will be on the verge of tears until you hug me or console me, and then all hell breaks loose and I'm bawling. It was one of those things. She is going to do some research and find me a support group in the Boston area because she feels that it would do me a world of good to talk to others in person and she also thinks I'd be a great "counselor" for birth moms who have just recently signed, or expectant moms who plan to sign their rights over. How flattering is that?! She always asks if she can see photos, which makes me feel so happy inside...knowing she genuinely cares not only about me but about my little girl (theoretically speaking). I've been so blessed to have found her and to have had her helping me through this. While she is a nurse practitioner in the gynecological field, she's still been more support to me than any of my therapists have. She's extended the offer for me to come in if I ever just want to talk (and not be probed by metal wands and scopes) and has told me that if I ever need her, to just call and tell the receptionist who answers that she has given me permission to ask them to personally come get her to take the phone call. Not many doctors will extend that offer, and she has, in fact, followed through.
I've been meaning to write her a hand-written card, and I think I will do just that tonight. Maybe I'll ask A's aparents if I can have their permission to send her a photo or two. I don't think they'll mind.
Anywho, I've gotten off track. The point of my post was to share that I've lost 21 pounds since my last visit with her in January! So that silly IUD was the culprit! Downside: I don't feel like I've lost weight. My clothes still fit the same way and I don't notice much of a difference in any other areas...BUT!...I would rather have lost than have gained! This must have been some "behind the scenes" weight or something. Either way, I was shocked when I saw the number on the scale. My doctor was thrilled for me.
So, even though I went in there biting my nails and left wiping mascara off of my face, it still was a good visit. I will see her again in January and hopefully by then I will have lost another 21 pounds (or more, please)!

Dear blog, I have missed you!

I've missed writing. No wonder I've felt all pent-up and frustrated for the past couple of weeks...I haven't been blogging! I've been so focused on trying to keep busy in ways that don't involve me being confined to my room that I've barely spent more than 20 minutes or so at a time on my laptop. Well, I'm here now, so bear with me.
I've been contributing to another blog and I'm so honored to be able to write for such a great cause. I've been following the blog for a while, and I have met a few great people from that blog as well as personal blogs I've come across through comments, etc. Each of us has a different story - some open adoptions, some closed - but that's the beauty of it. No two adoption stories are alike; heck, even if you asked a birth father for his thoughts and a birth mother for her thoughts on the same adoption, they would vary, I'm sure.

At some point over the past few weeks, I'm not sure when, exactly, but I came to the realization that my feelings for A's birth dad are part of a much larger, much more tangled web than I had originally thought. Yes, I love him. He is my daughter's father, my first born child. She is half of him. He was also the first man I truly loved. I convinced myself I was 115% over him, when I was not. I saw him and didn't feel the butterflies I had grown accustomed to feeling over the past few years, so I figured that was that. The "love" I felt was simply because of the bond we shared over the child we share. Then strange memories would creep into my mind. This would happen when I couldn't fall asleep at night. I tried to tell myself that I just missed the memory of "us," and that I need to simply make new memories with someone else. I also tried to tell myself it was the company that I missed, not him. I've never been more confused. I know I am talking in circles, but as I already said: please bear with me. I'm glad that we can get along, I really am. I don't want to be with him, I really don't. So pardon my language, but what the hell is it that I want? (I've typed, deleted, re-typed, and deleted this about 3 times already). I can't put my crazy, twisted thoughts into words! How can I love a man, not want to be with him, miss him with every fiber of my being, and resent him for things he has done to me in the past at the same time? When will I get off of this ride? I know, I know. The answer is simple: just don't talk to him. Well, if it were that easy, I would have done that. In fact, I did that, last year. And I survived. I was fine. I managed to go weeks at a time without so much as thinking about him. I guess it's not as easy this time around for me to make a clean break. I lost both him and my daughter at damn near the same time, and he is the closest "thing" to her that I have. It terrifies me to the core to think about completely losing him, too.

All of these revelations have brought me to a few other points. Some things I'm happy to finally grasp, others, I wish I hadn't thought about.

I have been very (very, very) apprehensive to date, after all I've gone through. Not only because I am not fully over her father, but because I feel fairly selfish at this point in my life and want to do whatever I please - whatever will make me happy at the time that I want to do it. Selfish, I know. But I'm not hurting anyone in the process. So, as I've said before, I was seeing a guy (we'll call him Z) last January - March. That was going great, until it fizzled out (by fizzled, I mean he tried to trick me into giving him money). I was over the moon at the very real prospect that I could potentially develop feelings for someone other than G. Well, look how that turned out. After that, I declared "F*!* men!" (in my head of course) and didn't want to put myself out there again, only to be hurt and/or aggravated by petty stuff that I didn't need in my life to begin with.

Fast forward to the end of April, when I decided to give it a go one more time. (I know, I didn't last long). I met someone, B, and things were going fine. Slow, just the way I needed them to be. The problem was, he was a bit "clingy." Texting all the time, and when he didn't get a response within 3 minutes, another text came my way. If that went unanswered, I could expect a phone call within 2 minutes. It wasn't at the crazy stalker level, but more of the 'you're really annoying me' level. I pretty much (very rudely) just stopped talking to him altogether. Out of the blue a month or so ago, he texted me again. Said he was sorry for anything he may have done to upset me, and asked if we could get together. We ended up walking up and down the beach (how cliche!) for a couple hours, talking and laughing. We have a lot in common, and while G was never downright mean to my face (with the exception of when we argued, most of the shady stuff he did was behind the scenes), it was nice to have a carefree conversation with a guy. We hung out a couple times after that, and one of my friends met him and thought he was a cool guy. Then he started with the texting non-stop thing all over again. I told him nicely that I was fine with us only talking once a day (or even less), and that I didn't need constant, every-hour contact. This, essentially, caused me to stop talking to him all over again. (What a witch, right?!)

He texted me Sunday morning. Said he was thinking of me and just wanted to know that I was alive. He knows about the adoption and a good chunk of the essential information about her birthdad. He is aware that we talk from time to time when it's about A, and he is fine with it. Well, he really didn't have much choice, but it's amazing that he "got it." I told him I was just going through some stuff, and when he asked if I wanted to talk about it, it finally clicked with me: I am not happy with myself. I cannot be happy with someone else NOR can someone be happy with me until I am happy with myself. I hate the way I look, I hate the way I act half the time, I hate a lot of things about myself that aren't worthy of hating. I just do it because....I just do. I explained this to him; I explained that being in a relationship with him right now would not be fair to him, as I need to focus on healing myself. I know grief is an ongoing process, but I need to get going on that and keep it under as much control as possible. I've convinced myself that I'm "fine," simply because I'm able to get out of bed every day and go through the motions. That's not living, though. It's just being. I was never one to just "be." If anything, my daughter should (and does) inspire me to do more than just exist. In a nutshell, I explained all of this to him to the best of my ability. I also finally admitted to myself, and to him, that I am terrified of letting myself care for (and love) someone else because I am so very scared to lose them. I think this mainly has to do with the 'loss' of my daughter, but also the loss of her father. While the loss of her father is much less profound, it's still there. I love(d) her father. I trusted him, completely gave myself and my life to him and look where I wound up...I'm now single, I became a mother with no child to show for it (other than in 1 dimensional photos), and I've gained an abhorrent amount of weight. Yes, I realize I cannot blame all of this on him. But what I also cannot do is put all of that behind me and jump head-first into another situation with a man where I am required to be vulnerable all over again.

I am not used to being treated the way he treats me. I have stopped speaking to him, cold-turkey, twice now. And he still is being patient with me (maybe because he knows my story. Or maybe he is desperate. Not sure). He told me that no matter what happens, he hopes the fact that he thinks I am beautiful to him will console me at least a little. How sweet is that? I've only been called beautiful by one other man before, and we all know who that is by now. Every other compliment is much more shallow than that.

I just don't know what to do. I don't want to be selfish, I don't want to hurt anyone. But I'm scared.

In other news, I recently found out that I am hypothyroid, which is both good and bad news. It explains a lot, but also means I will be taking a pill every day for the rest of my life. I started the prescription last Tuesday. I hope that the medication, along with some better eating habits that I've already been practicing and a walk 3 - 4x weekly will help me lose the weight I've been so miserable over for so long. I would be fine going back to my post-pregnancy weight, when I was in a 14. Not tiny, but the size I've always hovered around. I have a ways to go, but I believe that if I truly focus on myself right now, I can do it. I did it once, I can do it again!

'Saying Goodbye was the Hardest Part' - MTV trailer

I have been away! I've missed writing! I've just hit another slump, that's all...just a little writer's block. I've got so much to say, but no motivation or willpower to sit down and say it. I hope to get better, though. I used to at least write several times a month...not just once or twice.

I was playing around on my laptop last night, looking for something to watch. I went to mtv, and saw this trailer. It caught my eye because Catelynn (from Teen Mom) was on it. This show goes against almost everything I believe in, and I hate watching shows like this, especially now. But something draws me to Catelynn (besides the obvious) and I think I just may have to watch this episode tomorrow night. I better stock up on the tissues and eye make-up remover now.

I like the line where the woman says to use "positive, empowering adoption language; none of you 'gave up' your babies, you placed them for adoption," LOVE it! This 3:25 clip managed to make me cry. I held it in until Catelynn's great-grandmother started talking about how she got to hold the baby and smell the baby, but her husband never did and hopes he can one day. She got choked up saying it, and I lost it. It made me think back to my hospital experience with my daughter. Both of my parents, her birth father, and my best friend (like a sister to me) got to hold her, snuggle with her, feed her, and love on her. I have no regrets about that, and wouldn't want it to have been any other way. I just wish there was a local support group like this on the east coast. I would go in a heartbeat.

FREE Shoes!

Remember last summer when I was so excited about these baby shoes? Well, her a-mom wasn't sure whether or not she was a size three or a four and told me she'd have her try on both at the mall in the same brand to let me know. Well, me being me (instant gratification and no patience), I ordered them in both sizes and planned on just returning the one that wouldn't fit her. She wound up needing the smaller size, so I packed the other ones up and planned on shipping them back. And planned...and planned..and planned. And then completely forgot. So, they've been in the back of my closet for almost a year now.

I think they're adorable, so if you or anyone you know could use them, let me know! I've also cross-posted this on my Facebook. I'm not asking anything for them, because they aren't doing anyone any good just sitting in my closet, so someone else might as well enjoy them! And the 4th of July is right around the corner. I'm just asking that you pay the shipping if you don't live nearby. If you know someone in need (someone struggling, etc) let me know and we can definitely talk about it. I'm willing to ship for free to anyone who could use a little help. elizabethanne02 AT gmail .com

They're an infant size 4, never been worn, and still have the brown wax paper stuff inside of them and are still inside the Converse box.

Asking a favor...

I would just like to ask a favor of anyone who is reading.... If you pray at all, could you please keep my grandfather in your prayers? Thank you in advance! He's been ill since last July, and we were essentially told by doctors in December of this past year that he was on "borrowed time." Well, he got 'better,' or as good as you can be while suddenly nursing-home bound for the rest of your time on earth. Mentally, he's in too good of shape to be in a nursing home - he is fully alert and feels okay - but he can't live at home due to a multitude of problems he has. Mainly with his heart and lungs. Since December, he's had several scheduled surgeries as well as an emergency surgery and is now survived by weekly dialysis. Last Wednesday night, they called my mother in to the hospital, as he was rushed there because he couldn't breathe. He has a lot of fluid in his lungs. He got to go back to the nursing home yesterday afternoon, only to be rushed back by ambulance last night around ten. Each time this happens, he gets a little weaker, and you can see the sadness in his eyes. He's continuing dialysis, so he's not "ready" to let go yet, but he's also signed a DNR, so if things take a turn for the worst, they will take a turn for the worst quickly.

I'll be back to my normal blogging soon, I hope! It's just been a little crazy around here lately.

Things I Wish All Adoptive Parents Knew (from a Birthmother's Point of View)

**This is not targeted towards my daughter's adoptive parents whatsoever, nor is it meant to offend anyone or put anyone off. It's just a little list of things that I truly wish all adoptive parents knew. Some of it is said out of experience, some is said out of wishful experience - experiences I hope to have in the future, and some are just thoughts that swim around in this crazy head of mine. This mainly applies to post-placement**

(1) Nothing means more than calling the child we share an immense love for 'our child.' Recognizing that the child does in fact have two sets of parents who love him or her means the world to us birth parents.

(2) That old, crinkled up sheet of paper with errant crayon scribbles all over it that you are about to throw away because you've already kept approximately 8,000 of them? Don't. Send it to your child's birth mom or dad, no extensive letter necessary. What may be every-day and semi-"meaningless" to you may mean the world to a birth parent.

(3) You can never send enough photos. If you don't want to send one for fear of being too "pushy," I can assure you almost certainly that you are not. If we aren't ready to look yet, we'll save it for later. But just knowing you thought of us means everything.

(4) Including us as part of your family is the biggest honor you could give us. Even if visits are not part of the adoption plan, including us on group emails (with photos) to far-away family members doesn't go without notice. (My daughter's adoptive mom sent a photo of of our little girl waving two flags in her hands last year on the 4th of July. I love emails she sends only to me, but to see all of my daughter's many aunts and uncles from both sides of the family included on the email, along with myself and my mother, made my heart practically burst!)

(5) Likewise, being part of you "Christmas card list" is also amazing. If you're one of those families who takes professional Christmas photos and sends them out on little postcards, consider sending one to your child's birth family. (I still have mine from the two Christmases that have passed since she was born).

(6) No matter how much we love you (which, trust me, is a lot!), it is still extremely hard to trust someone else with your child. Think of how nervous you were the first time you let someone babysit your children...this is how we felt at placement, only it was magnified seven-fold. This is not to say we don't trust you - we more than trust you, and are secure in that trust - but keep this fear in mind when we send quick texts or emails just to see how everyone's doing. We don't mean to bug you.

(7) Sending us quick emails just to say hello, check in, or wish us luck on upcoming finals or whatever it may be, mean the world to us. Feeling like we not only share a common interest in the child, but also share a friendship, is wonderful.

(8) Not sure if we want that low-quality, grainy video you took on your cell phone? We do! You may have better ones that you took with a digital camera, but we cherish anything - and I mean anything you send us.

(9) Always keep your promises. This goes for birth parents and adoptive parents alike. Promises in open adoption are worth gold...there is no relationship more delicate or fragile on earth, so promises are sacred.

(10) We may not admit it, and a lot of us may share our pain quicker than we share our joy, but we love you for providing our children with what we couldn't at the time. Whether it's a two-parent household, a solid financial ground, or just a house period, it's something we couldn't provide or provide properly. I've heard it said that people think adoptive parents should "owe" their child's birth parents the world for "giving them a child." Well, birth parents feel indebted (in a good way) to adoptive parents for loving their child above themselves. We didn't give our child to you, we gave you to our child.

(11) Don't hold back on what you tell us. Don't be afraid to tell us that you missed 'our' baby while you were away on a business trip because you're scared we'll think "how do you think I feel?." The feeling we get when you are expressing your love for our child will eventually win over any jealous feelings we have about the time you get to spend with them that we don't.

(12) Allow us to send gifts. While some of us can't bear to walk down the baby aisle or the kid's toy aisle at Target, others find immense comfort in buying things for the child. The occasional "spoiling" we get to do feels amazing.

(13) Sending photos of your child wearing outfits we sent to her/him or playing with toys we sent are priceless.

(14) Always feel free to send us the "outtakes," too. While pictures in nice lighting, in cute outfits and with huge smiles are great, we want to see pictures of our kids just being kids, too. Not sure if you should send the picture where his or her back is to the camera and they are playing with toys? Please, send it! That one where they are crying or in mid-scream...send that one, too. We want as much insight into their daily lives as you are willing to give.

(15) If you don't already, please understand that as long as the safety of the child isn't at risk (mentally or physically), it can never be a bad thing for more people to love a child. When everyone has that child's best interest at heart, the more love, the better. Please don't close us out, we are not a threat. We don't want to take over your title or role and 99% of us would never have that intent nor would we dream of trying. We just want the opportunity to let our child know that he or she always was and always will be loved by us.

Not Something to be Proud of...

I haven't been around here much lately. I'm back in that slump I was in a few months ago, but it has nothing to do with my adoption. Well, maybe it does, indirectly. I just feel so...'blah,' for lack of a better term. It fits perfectly.

As I've said before, I'm not happy with my weight gain or my weight in general, and I haven't been for a while now. Honestly, I don't even know what I weigh, but I know it's too much. It really hit me the other morning when I was frantically looking for an outfit to wear to work (I hate not having my clothes ready the night before!). I found a pair of black dress pants, and thought I had hit the jackpot and would be out the door as soon as they were on. Well, no such luck. They were my old work pants, from the job I had in 2009, until I was laid off in December - about a month or so before I got pregnant. They were practically half the size of the pants I'm in now. Maybe not half, but damn near half. I immediately felt depressed and my day was heading in a very bad direction. Let me say this - I know you gain weight when you have a baby. It's unhealthy not to gain weight when you have a baby. But you're supposed to lose it. I did lose it when I had my gallbladder out. I was almost back to my 'normal' weight (which, mind you, was still overweight, but I'm not built to be stick thin. I was wearing anywhere from a size 10 to a size 14, depending on the brand, before I got pregnant. I look back on those times and remember feeling like I was so overweight. I wanted to be a size 4, because magazines told me that's what beautiful was. Now, I would give my left arm to be a size 12 again. And to think, it was only a mere two and a half years ago).

See below: my old pants (2009/early 2010) on top of my new pants, and my old favorite skirt on top of my current one. I want these pictures to be flipped - I want the ones on top to be the ones that fit, in due time.

Two months or so after she was born, I was feeling pretty confident about it. I want to say I was wearing a size 14 to 16, which to some is "plus size," but to me, was right around where I had always been from high school on. At my highest weight during my pregnancy, I was about 235 lbs. Before I got pregnant, I think I was somewhere around 180. Not thin by any means, but not morbidly obese, either. I was back around there (maybe 190 or so) until June, when I got my IUD put in. It was all downhill (or, according to the scale, uphill) from there. I don't blame it fully on the IUD, because I know I was (and still am) an emotional eater and I can finally admit the fact that I was severely depressed. I wasn't even sleeping. After I got it removed this past April, I lost about 10 lbs...and then completely plateaued.

Admittedly, I haven't been doing much to change it, other than cutting out Mountain Dew (I've been "clean" since 12/26!) and drinking at least 7 glasses of water a day. It's easy to do at work, because there's a little water fountain right by my desk and I don't drink coffee or anything.

I've talked about this before on my blog and said I was going to get my bum in gear, but now I'm really, really motivated. I'm not happy with myself, and it's affecting everything, not just the size of my pants. I need and want to be someone my daughter can be proud of one day...I want to be someone who truly deserves to be in her life when the time comes, not someone who's there because we're blood related and I'm 'defaulted' into being part of her life. That's not what she deserves by any stretch. I need to be happy, confident, and successful before I can be around her.

Figured it Out

I think I just cracked the case. Finally. Sitting here at my desk at work, I just figured out what has been wrong with me lately. I struggled so much with the fact that other single women my age raise their children JUST FINE...so very much that I had to justify to myself why I couldn't raise her. I told myself, over and over, that she wouldn't have had an amazing life with me. I wouldn't be able to provide for her the way I would want to. I wouldn't be able to give her everything she deserves - and that includes a stable, two-parent home. I had to basically brand this onto the inner side of my forehead in order to be able to get up in the morning. Whenever I got any confidence about the matter, any inkling that I could have raised her, or I could have made it work this way or that, I would start to regret my decision. I can't handle that pain. Right now I'm just numb. I shouldn't still be numb. In order to "dumb myself down" enough to believe that I did do the right thing for her and she will hurt so much less without me, I've wiped away any bit of self-confidence I had in every other aspect of my life, too. None of my clothes look good on me. My hair never looks right. My makeup never flatters me. I know I am an intelligent person, I know I could have been a great mom to her. I convinced myself I must not be worthy of being a mom. She would never have gone without her necessities or love. I KNOW she deserves better than just the "necessities." I also KNOW it's not just about material things, it's about security, and family. But I have security, and I have family. Not a picture-perfect family to raise a child in, no, and she would have had an in-and-out dad, but my parents wouldn't have left us homeless. Whenever I realize this, I just start to get angry - at everything. If it's not about money, or material items...why was I not "qualified?" Why was I not "good enough?" I love that little girl more than anything or anyone in the world. Why did I think I wouldn't be able to give her enough of it? Why did I think she would go without? I wanted her to have better - and there certainly is "better" than me out there. But I can't figure out how to balance it. I can't figure out how to stop hating myself for the decision I made. I feel like I either hate the decision I made because I feel that I must have been good enough, or I hate myself because I've convinced myself that I'm the lowest of the low and I was no good for her. It's the hardest thing in the world to realize that you weren't good enough for your own and only child.

Gift-planning, 6 months early!

I know it's a ways away, but I'm already putting some thought into what I should get Miss Arianna for her birthday. I want to have time to save up, if need be. I 'stole' a few good ideas from some of the girls on the Facebook support site...one of which was to create an American Girl Doll that looks like your child (particularly your daughter). I wish you could create the doll from scratch - I can't find one that looks *just* like her. Growing up, I had three - Samantha, Kit, and then one that was supposed to be "me." She had medium-blonde hair and blue eyes, and looked considerably like me - if I were a 2-foot tall, lifeless, plastic doll, that is. They have a much larger variety of dolls now than they did then. The one that looks the most like her is the one with "medium skin, curly dark hair, brown eyes," even though her skin is a little lighter than this. I know I loved my dolls as a child..I learned how to french-braid hair on these dolls! Hence why the "me" doll is now downstairs with tangly, bushy (absolutely ruined) hair.



What do you guys think? Is this a good idea, or should I do something a bit more age-appropriate? Do you know of any good sites for customizing dolls or other toys?

Simple Quote I Love...

Oh, how I wish I had a recording of her heart beat. I don't think I'll ever hear a more amazing sound in my life.

My Mother's Day

Mother's Day weekend was surprisingly okay. Much better than last year, although that makes sense. Saturday was my self-proclaimed "me" day...I got a manicure, pedicure, and my eyebrows done. I went by myself, something I normally don't do, but I just wanted to be alone and relax. It was actually really nice.

On Sunday, My grandmother came over and we had a nice dinner and watched a movie with my mother. My mother made turkey or ham or something along those lines, so I had my usual "vegetarian" dinner:



My mom gave me some new beads for my Pandora bracelet, including an "E" which is the first letter of Arianna's 'new' name.


...and an Alex and Ani bracelet with the same letter. Apparently these are the "new thing," according to her!



I did give in and decide to meet up with her father. It was honestly against my better judgement and I know many people won't approve of this, but whatever, I did it and it's done. It was my decision and I did what I felt was right in my heart. Did my head agree? No, but we can't always listen to our heads, can we?


It was surprisingly a very nice time. Not too nice - not "I think I'm falling back in love with you and now I'm all confused because you treated me so amazingly this one night" nice - but very calm and peaceful. Very uncharacteristic of us as of late. We went to dinner and a movie on him (sounds date-like, but it wasn't), and then he gave me a really sweet gift and a card. I can tell he put a lot of thought into the gift...I was floored. It was so thoughtful.



It was a huge basket filled with a bunch of different things - some things I would use daily, some things that represent old jokes between us, and some things that are a bit more sentimental. Now, you wouldn't really think getting shampoo and conditioner in a gift basket would mean much, but the fact that he remembers which brand, type, and scent is my favorite means something to me. Sounds silly when I write it out! The card, of course, made me cry - he wrote about how he knows that a lot of what I have facing me is hard to deal with, but he knows me and knows that I have a strong spirit. He said that I more than deserve to be treated on Mother's Day, and he also said that even though this is one of the toughest things he has gone through in his life, he is glad that it's me who is the mother of this baby and that we are going through it "together," and that he is always here. I won't write out the entire thing, and I'm not one to normally even go in to that much detail, but it showed me that he (maybe, just maybe) is growing up a little. So funny to say about a man who is 10 (give or take) years older than I am, but I guess age really is just a number.
(And yes, he did color the boy in with a pencil on the front of the card and gave him curly black hair. If you didn't know, my daughter's father is African-American and she is bi-racial. Now you know!)

We had a few good conversations, which were needed, and he didn't try to pull any funny business. I think he respects the situation enough now to not try that with me. This doesn't mean much of anything really, I know I need to take it at face-value. So we had one good get-together...it doesn't mean we will start hanging out on a regular basis again or even speaking on one. I'm grateful that it went well and I felt appreciated, but I'm not a fool (anymore). I did, however, make one teensy (huge) mistake. He called as I was pulling on to my street, to make sure I got home. I was tired from working all day and then going straight to meet him, and it was around eleven when I finally got home. I said that I was just getting home, and thanked him again. He told me that I more than deserved it, and there was no need to thank him. Then he said, "okay, so...I'll talk to you...sometime.." and I replied, "yeah, sounds good. I love you, have a good night," and before I could even realize what I had just said, he said "I love you too, goodnight." Old habits die hard, I guess. I couldn't believe I said it, and it was just that - habit. But he replied as if I had just said "hey, what's up?" and he responded "nothing." It was that natural. Maybe that was out of habit, too. Yeah, there are worse things...but that's a pretty big faux pas in the land of let's-be-civil-because-there's-a-kid-in-the-"picture"-land. 

Magazine, are you a joke?

Hmph, did this really have to come in the mail on the day before Mother's Day?

In Other News . . .

I am so thankful that it's Friday. This week was so stressful at work. I have only one week and four days to get through until I have a 5 day weekend! The 27th is Memorial Day and we have the Friday before off as well. Thank you, national holiday declarers. Thank you very much.
I put my letter in the mail for A's mom the other day, and it felt really good. I didn't do it to get something from her, not at all...but I am a little eager to hear how she feels about it. I hope she likes it, and I hope she knows it came straight from my heart. I didn't even do a first draft like I normally do for "important" letters, I just laid on my the rug in my bedroom floor and wrote until I felt I had covered it all.
What else has been going on? This past Wednesday marked two entire weeks that I have gone to bed without taking Ambien and still successfully slept like a baby. And I actually slept better and felt 1000% less robotic than I felt when I was taking it. I started taking it in October, and took it faithfully every night since. Yes, I slept, but when I woke up, I didn't really feel rested and I didn't really feel like 'myself.' Then again, I haven't been my old self for a while now...not that I necessarily want to be. My worst fear had started to come true, and I finally realized it: I was becoming addicted to it. There were several nights that I tried to go to sleep without it, but I would lie there and convince myself that I wouldn't fall asleep without it, which stressed me out even more than I already was, so I would end up taking it. I wanted to be off of it so badly. I've never liked taking medications, especially not for prolonged periods of time. Especially not for sleeping. One night, I went to take it, and realized the bottle was empty...I had forgotten to refill it. I'm a little ashamed to admit this, but I would up on my floor, looking for the one that I thought I heard fall the night before. To admit that I would have taken a pill that I found on my bedroom floor is appalling to me. Not that my room is dirty - that's not it. What's appalling is how loudly it screams "desperation." (Side note: I didn't find it). That night, I probably would have fallen asleep on my own, had I not been so stressed about not falling asleep because I didn't take it. I eventually got up and took a Tylenol, just to swallow something and try and convince myself that I took the Ambien. That. is. a. problem. No? So, fast forward a month or so, after I had refilled it once more. I fell asleep one night, on my own, without taking it or even thinking about taking it. Once I woke up in the morning and realized this, I decided that if I could do it once, I could do it again. So I didn't take it the next night, or the next night, and slowly I realized that I could fall asleep on my own and that maybe I had overcome the psychological side of it all (not the adoption, but the medication). Before I knew it, I realized it had been two weeks since I had taken it. I still have 5 left in the bottle on my nightstand, and I'm not going to throw them or the prescription away, but it feels so good to know that I don't "need" them.

I've kept this in for a few days, but I have to share. On Tuesday, I got a phone call from her birth dad, out of the blue. We do occasionally talk (about our daughter) but we hadn't in a while and we sort of left it at "we'll talk sometime...eventually..." and that was that. Anyways, he called and said that he had been thinking about what to do for me for Mother's Day (SHOCKER!!). Last year, he gave me a card, and while it was simple, it was sweet. We've been through a lot, he put me through a lot, and at times he hurt me to the core and worked my last nerve, but as a person, he is a good man. He's made some mistakes and hurt some of the people closest to him, but at the end of the day, he is not a bad person. I was flattered that he called to acknowledge the day at all this year. He said that he wanted to do a little more for me than just getting a card or a gift, so he asked me if I'd be able to spare a couple of hours to meet up with him because he wanted to surprise me with something nice. I have absolutely no clue what he is or could be planning. Dinner, possibly. I know many of you reading this are probably thinking "he just wants something," and honestly, the thought went through my head, too, and even though I have been with him (read: slept with him) a couple of times since the baby was born, I know he respects me enough not to pull that with me again. The couple of times that it happened were two too many, and it was a while ago. He wouldn't cross that line now. I'm not completely naive to him now, though. With his track record, it's tough to give him the benefit of the doubt all the time. But at the same time, I suppose I have to admit that I've wronged him in the past before, too. We've wronged each other and both tried to move on from it. I told him I would let him know. I want to go, but I don't want to make a mistake, either. I don't want to back track here, I need to move forward. I was flattered by the invite, and am honored that he wants to acknowledge me as the person who carried and delivered his child. I want, with all of my heart, to believe that he has good intentions. I'm torn. And I only have a few more days to figure it out...

"I Would Have Loved to be Her Mom"

Through various links, I came across this amazing blog post today. Which led me to this even more amazing video:

Watch that and try not to cry! These birth moms are putting my exact emotions into words, which is a sentiment that I am sure will be shared by almost any birth mom who watches the video. This five-minute video made me cry happy tears as well as sad tears, and gave me an even deeper appreciation for my daughter's adoptive family...did I mention that this happened all in under 6 minutes?

A Mother's Day Letter (in the works)

The gears have been turning and spinning in my brain for a couple of weeks now. I was trying to figure out what I could get for my little one's mom for Mother's Day. Everything I thought of was either cliche or not fitting. The last day that I saw them, she gave me a necklace with our daughter's birthstone on it and told me that she had one for Arianna for when she's older, too. She wrote me a beautiful card to go with it and when she got to the part about the necklace, she said "Of course, it is her birthstone. We cannot thank you enough for your selflessness and this necklace in no way represents how grateful we are to you, because there are no words or objects that we could say or give to you that would show how much we love you. You and ----- both have matching ones, and we will explain the significance of her necklace to her for the day that they (and you) come together again." (God, I could cry just typing that.) So, the idea of birth stone necklaces was out of the question. Then I started thinking about mani/pedi/spa day gift certificates, but that seems too generic. Don't get me wrong, it's a great gift, and I know she deserves to treat herself to a "me" day. I posed the question to some girls in the support group last night, and I got the most perfect response from one of them. Kari - if you read this, you rock! She suggested I write her a letter! I've been meaning to do that for the longest time, but I just haven't done it. I was too focused on writing to my little girl and writing back to emails from her a-mom that I never took the time to actually hand-write her a letter. What better time than now? I will probably keep it personal and private, because I think even the most sentimental things become cheapened a little when they're publicly read or written, but I can tell you that I am going to thank her for giving our daughter everything that I couldn't give her and more. I know I talk a lot about the hard side of things on this blog - how much it hurts sometimes, how it KILLS me sometimes - but I never really talk about how much I truly love this woman and her family (but especially her. There is a bond you share when you are both mothers of the same child that's not really explainable to anyone other than another birth mom or adoptive mom). I could go on for days about how I feel about her family. I know I went through a really rough time from January to March of this year, what with the waiting for photos and the broken promises, but that's water under the bridge now. I haven't forgotten, but I know life gets in the way sometimes. All that matters is she followed through on her word. It may have (okay, it definitely did) taken longer than I would have liked it to, but she came through.
Okay, I'm going to go get some paper and a box of tissues and lock myself in my room and start writing...

Self, make it through the week, please.

1 week til Mother's Day 1 week til Mother's Day 1 week til Mother's Day. One more week of sappy commercials and even sappier Lifetime specials...I can do it! Mother's Day is so bittersweet for me. I love and appreciate being recognized by those who send me well wishes on this day, but it doesn't take away the sting that the "holiday" brings on at full-force. It is the one day that I can be acknowledged as a mother, yet I have no child to celebrate with me. More to come on this, I'm sure...