In the silence...

Sometimes the silence of my house at night unnerves me. I've been sitting here thinking about how I would probably miss this quietude if I had a baby now, and yet every molecule of my being wishes to hear an infants sleeping sigh, grunt, or even cry to be held. The other day I had coffee with some amazing young moms. They fed their kids and played with them, as that is their reality. They told me about dreams of full-nights rest and time to themselves, while (to borrow a quote from my dear friend Amy <3) there is "nothing to keep me from sleeping through the night" and yet I ache for it. Is it just that the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence? Or it is that having my sweet little girl has awakened a hunger in me that will not be satisfied until I'm a mom? I keep waiting for this stabbing pain to go away, or at least dull a bit, but it stays strong.

I miss Emilia, yes, but I know she's where she's meant to be- with her incredible family. Recently I find myself grieving a baby that does not yet exist. Can I really continue in this way until the boxes of my life long to-do list are checked-- finish school-- begin career-- find amazing man-- date for appropriate amount of time-- marry said man-- wait appropriate amount of time before trying for kids-- before finally reaching the box I dream most of checking? I've heard it said that holes created in your heart by grief never shrink, your heart just grows larger making them less significant, but what happens if the hole is so great my heart can't function? There are so many issues to deal with before I'll even get close to starting a family. I'm nineteen years old. Most girls my age date around for fun, worry about school, don't obsess over their future. When I next date (goodness knows when that even might be), I'll always have the thought in my mind "is he my future husband? Would he make a good dad?" That's a lot of pressure to put on a guy. Plus, whoever I care about I want to care about Emilia, but one man in her life is already unreliable, I could never introduce her to someone who might be gone tomorrow. I have so much respect for single moms dating. The issues are even more so prevalent there.

I have all these great things I want to post about adoption, but somehow only the pain comes out in my blogs. Maybe because I share the good parts every day whenever I meet people who are involved in young pregnancy and/or adoption. Some day I will share these thoughts here too. Particularly the turning point in my greif that happened on December 26th 2010. Stay tuned :)

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.

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.