Christmas

Every Christmas I have to the same struggle with what to get my family members and friends as the perfect gift. This year has brought even more challenge.

What do I get for the mother of my daughter that says "Thank you for raising my baby- the most important thing in my life- for loving her as your own, for waking up in the middle of the night to feed or change her, for committing your time, energy, love, patience, and sanity, to make her the person she's meant to become for the rest of her life"?

Everything I think of seems cheap. Insufficient. Insincere. Many will want to say "oh, but you've given her your first child, what more of a gift could you give than that?" But there is so much love and gratitude in my heart for this woman I didn't even know a year ago but am now so close and emotionally intertwined with I feel there must be some way to show that and thank her for being the most important person to that little girl who is most important to me. I know she'll love whatever I chose I just want it to be perfect!

Mondays :)

Yesterdays visit went significantly better than expected. It was actually quite lovely. I got to play with Emilia's big sister and her friend a bunch. We made paper snowflake which is one of my favorite past times. There was that little twinge of sadness yet again when Em won't really smile at me. She's teething and going through a growth spurt so she's less smiley these days. One of my dear friends came to meet my little lady for the first time. That pretty much made my day because she's the one who carried me through my pregnancy, introduced me to the adoptive parents, and never left my side despite her own three kids and pregnancy. Her youngest, who is three months older than Emi, came along as well which was pretty adorable. I'm not sure she's ever seen someone her own size (well, I bit smaller. My little lady's not so little =] She's going to be a nice long swimmer some day). It was very cute. Plus my friend told me she saw the resemblance between Emilia and me which is a big deal because 1) her birth-daddy is a Mexican who's genes tend to dominate my poor little caucasian ones, and 2) that is the greatest thing you could ever say to a birth-mom! Anyways, all and all it was a delightful day. Can't wait for next week's rollercoaster.

Mondays...

I'm sort of dreading todays visit. 


Last time I went over I saw their four perfect stockings hanging on the mantle. It was all their tradition. This is what I wanted for my baby. This is what I still want with every fiber of my being-- for her to grow up with an awesome mom and day who love each other and have a healthy example of a relationship. For them to raise her and her sister with their own strong, loving, amazing, functional family. For them to grow up and have their traditions, fights, celebrations, tears, love, all in each others arms. That being said, it absolutely KILLS ME. It kills me that she won't be part of the family and traditions I was raised to love. How is it possible for everything in me to want two completely conflicting things? Things that can not possibly co-exist peacefully in this world?


 Today I was looking at pictures Emilia's birth father and I took with her and she has this same expression in all of them. Sort of like "who the hell are these people trying to pass us off as some happy little family"?  Then I look at pictures of her while she's with her real family going on their Christmas tradition tree-cutting adventure and she's so happy and smiling and awake. Somehow it seems whenever I'm even over there she's asleep most of the time. Granted her mom said it took her several days to recover from the tree day because she only got 15 minute naps instead of a couple hours but why does she push (okay, I know that's an unnecessarily harsh word choice but you get my drift) Emilia to stay awake for things like that but not me? Even while I'm writing this I know I would NEVER want her to make my little lady grumpy  and sleep deprived its just... I'm not sure. Jealousy? Bitterness? Emptiness? A dash of each? Who knows. 


Why do I let something so insignificant like a giant sock on a fireplace make me hurt so deep inside my heart I didn't even know it was possible? I'm hoping tomorrow will go more smoothly than last week inside this crazy, emotional head of mine. I am so excited to see my daughter and her family. It makes me so happy and I just feel at peace with all my decisions up to this point. It's like a weekly reminder I chose the right path for my daughter. The only crap part is this gut-wrenching feeling that hitchhikes alongside my happiness. Will that ever go away or at least hurt less? 

Bad Day

Today is a normal day. I'm not doing anything different. The sun is shining and I've been able to relax all morning and do all the things I like. All and all it should be a good day. But I miss my baby. I'm not sure why today of all days, but I miss her more than ever. It's so easy for me to lay in bed, look at pictures of her, run over every second I've spent with her, wonder what she's doing right now. It's so easy to turn to my old "supports" who never really held me up that well. I usually try to put some happy spin on the pain, but to be honest, days like this suck beyond belief. And of course the stupid diaper or pregnancy test type commercials keep taunting me. It is exhausting to be mature and okay with this all the time when it is a million times more painful than giving birth or anything else I've ever experienced. That's not to say I don't believe 100% I chose the right path for me and my daughter but on days like this it absolutely blows. All I can do is get through today, hope tomorrow is better, and remember I get to see my sweet, happy baby girl in a mere three days.

Adoptive Moms, Birth Moms, Moms moms...

For some reason the hardest time to see Emilia is with my mom. My latest theory is that when it's just me visiting I can sort of pretend that a) I am old enough to have had a kid so it's not as weird; b) I get her all to myself; or c) it's easier to see her as her adoptive mom's kid instead of my mom's biological granddaughter. When it really hits me that the decision I  made effects my entire family (on top of her birth-father's family) it multiplies the grief tenfold. I'm the type of person who feels the emotions of the people around her so all of that weighing down on me . The only thing that makes it all bearable is that Emilia's adoptive mom is like me and feels everyone's emotions so she noticed almost immediately when I was upset that day, asked if I was okay, and made sure I had some time with Emi. What would I ever do without her?

Stretch Marks

Women who have been pregnant, aside from those lucky ducks, can tell you how frustrating stretch marks can be. For me, they can be a daily reminder of the grief included in placing a child. In my darker hours I get frustrated being left with this 'broken body' and no baby. M&M's birth-daddy is always one to bring me out of my self pity by emphasizing the beauty brought into the world as a result of  the female form, so divinely designed to create life. 

"Oh yeah, I created a life today. What did you do?"

I love my daughter more than anything and she is worth infinitely more than 9 months of whale-in-a-skirt impersonations or my bikini body possibly forever. The fact that I get to see her, happy, with her loving, supportive family once a week (twice this week!) is the greatest blessing I could ever have asked for. Sometimes I am sick of being a mature adult who made a mistake but then did all the mature responsible things from there out(ish). Sometimes I want to just be a regular 18 year old who cares about the way she looks and can afford a little occasional recklessness. But only sometimes... 

Happy Days

Today I got to babysit my little girl for the first time. I feel so incredibly blessed that her mom trusts me enough to watch her by myself! Just being able to play with her for an hour, put her down for a nap, sing her a lullaby... it is going to be by far the best part of my week.

I can completely understand closed adoptions and the fear behind open adoption. For some girls it is truly better for them to never see their child again and just sleep well knowing they are in good hands somewhere else. I also completely understand keeping your child-- being able to play with Emilia, sing her lullabies etc every day would be so amazing. I guess what I'm trying to say is that especially with teen pregnancy, everyone's story, and needs, are different and each of those stories comes with its own unique brand of pain and happiness.

Great-Birth Grandmothers

Great-Birth Grandmothers... What a mouthful. Adoption certainly does make titles complicated.

Yesterday was pretty amazing. M&M's birth daddy went to visit her with me and his grandmother and uncle came too. [Back story: they are fairly supportive of the adoption and had yet to see the baby] It is pretty incredible to see the immediate love for a baby. This little person who can't do much on her own except look cute and poop is bringing families together that otherwise never would have met and forming such an unbreakable bond, they will be together forever. When my own grandmother visited it was the same way--instant connection and pride--this was even more incredible because not only was this kind of adoption out of their norm, but there was also a big language barrier that is breached only by this little girl that we all love.

The Unexpected Stork

I think the most important thing in any unplanned pregnancy is support. For me, I would not have made it through the past year and every day for the rest of my life without the love and support of my family and friends. My parents were incredibly understanding and the whole situation actually healed a lot of hurt and brought us closer together. My brothers were their same loving selves and gave me a sense of normalcy I so desperately needed. My friends stood by me and held my hand as I walked through the world feeling judged by other but protected by them. Even though people still judge me for having a child when I'm only 18, I know the people who love me regardless are the ones I really want in my life.

It is heart-breaking to me to know that most girls were not as blessed as me. I personally know some who's parents wanted them to have an abortion, kicked them out of the house, and even disowned them for an undoubtedly stupid mistake. Even though the mistake was made, I have unspeakable respect for those with enough strength to see the consequences through and bring a beautiful new life into the world, whether they parent or not. For someone to do all that without the love and support I had seems unbearable to me. No girl deserves to go through that alone. That's why I want to start a support group to let girls know they are not alone in this endeavor.  Even though I'm not sure exactly what that will look like or even if anything will come of it, this is my calling. To love on all those girls who have been hurt and abandoned, but still have enough strength of character to carry that little person for 9 months; to give up their bodies, their hearts, and so much more. That is the true sacrifice of a mother.

http://www.facebook.com/#!/group.php?gid=136044673086067

Case of the Mondays

Some visits are easy, some visits are hard. Monday would definitely fall into the "hard" category. My 16-week-old daughter, Emilia, was adopted by a family who is pretty incredibly. The mom is one of the most loving, nurturing and supportive people I know, the father is loving in a goofier way similar to that of my own sweet Daddyo, and their other daughter is happy, light-hearted and mature beyond her five (and a half) years.

I met them back in December of '09 when I was about 2 months pregnant and spent the majority of Mondays since then getting to know them. After Emilia was born on June 25th I continued visiting most weeks. The first month was pretty easy. I was glad not to be pregnant, glad Emilia was happy and cared for without keeping me up at all hours (though she has slept through the night for the past couple months which wouldn't have been so bad...). The second month was fairly torturous as Emilia became more alert and started to recognize her adoptive mother more than me. After a long process of self-reflection (to be talked about in a later post) this third month has been quite enjoyable for the most part.


Monday... Not so enjoyable. Emilia is teething or going through a growth spurt or something that is just making her very unhappy and sleepy. Anyways, I was holding her and she started to cry and get very upset so of course her mom scooped her up (politely asking first) and took her to the other room to calm her down while I played with her sister and birth father. Anyone who is a mom will understand that when your baby is crying every cell in your body is screaming to pick her up and make everything better. This is definitely the message my body was sending me, but I am not her mom so it's not my job to do that (at least when her parents are around).

So basically this whole internal battle was going on inside me where I couldn't concentrate on anything but M's cries and  there was nothing I could do about it. I chose her adoptive mom because I knew she would be a great mother even before I saw her with either kid. This includes taking care of her kids (obviously) and putting them before all else. Therefore, I wouldn't have wanted her to do anything differently but that doesn't make it suck any less.

Even though days like that are completely heartbreaking, they also remind me that Emilia is in an amazing home where she's being looked after and I am so incredibly glad I can be there to see it. Needless to say, I am a huge proponent of open adoptions. Maybe not for everyone, but for me, seeing my daughter grow up, hearing her laugh or even cry, makes up for every ounce of pain a thousand fold. I love that little lady with all my heart.

Chapter Three

Chapter One: Childhood- There once was a little blond girl, who lived in a simply happy world. Her mom and her dad, loved her like mad, with no clue what life would unfurl.

Chapter Two: Adolescence- The girl dyed her hair black; to her parents she began to talk back. The things she would do, to pick up her mood, got her totally lost and off track.

Chapter Three: Postpartum- Nine months and one baby later, her path was significantly straighter. Her family she loved, over all else above. And now it was her turn to help others.