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? 

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.