At last...photos!

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

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

So, I leave you with this:

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

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

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



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

My little girl's birth story, Part One

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

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

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

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