Blog overload

I think this is my third post today. But I keep having more things come into my head that I want to get out.

I have been using my computer for a few hours now. I keep blogging, and I spent two hours finding pictures and gadgets and links for this blog.

I don't have anything else to do. Plus, it keeps me distracted from the fact that there is no baby in my house. It keeps me from thinking that my arms are empty, that the house is too quiet, that right about now Roo would be taking a bottle.

And now I've gone and brought it all to mind. Shoot.

I talked to Sharon earlier. She is my caseworker at LDS Family Services. She is awesome. She didn't try to make me feel better. She didn't try to tell me how Roo is going to be so happy, or that I'd done a wonderful thing. All she did was let me cry and tell me that she knew this sucks for me, that she was sorry. It was exactly what I needed to hear.

She said she was going to call P and M and set up a time to visit. I told her that I'd thought about it, but I didn't want to bother them so soon. They need time to get into a routine (a Roo-tine, lol) and I can't imagine they want me harassing them this quickly. I don't want to be this constant presence. I want them to have enough time to feel like Roo is really theirs.

I did send them e-mail earlier. I don't remember exactly what I said. I think I probably made a fool out of myself, but oh well. I wondered if I would hear back soon, and I did! M answered all of my questions (even about poop!) and she sent me two pictures. The pictures were wonderful, but made me cry. There was my baby, at someone else's house, wearing a strange outfit and a funny headband, being held by someone else. She looked like a stranger to me in one of them, and it was like losing her all over again.

I told Sharon how rotten the past twenty hours have been, and how low I feel. I told her that I hadn't gotten dressed. She said I was allowed to stay in my pajamas as long as I want. I didn't mention that I haven't eaten today. I tried but my own saliva keeps catching in my throat and I'm afraid I won't be able to keep anything down. I still feel nauseated when I think that my baby Roo is gone. I want so badly to hold her. It is a physical ache.

My mother has tried to tuck a lot of things away, but I still see traces of Roo everywhere. A little powdered formula on the counter in the kitchen, her tiny laundry on the chair, a spit-up stain on the ottoman. There are parenting magazines on the table, next to the accordion file where I keep - kept? - important papers and information about Roo. And there's one of her pacifiers, there on top of a notebook. Over there, a gallon-size Ziploc bag holding the Gerber Nuk bottles Roo refused to drink from. There's the empty photo album with a thick stack of pictures on top that I meant to put in. There's a gift bag that a tiny outfit was given in. And the big things - the swing, the pack and play - are still taking up a lot of space.

I still don't know what I'm supposed to do without my baby. I wonder how long it will take me to figure that out.