Today ...

Today was sort of a happy-sad day for me. Happy because my Roo is four months old, and sad because she is four months old and I am not her mother. Happy because I had a great day with my niece, sad because while we were out my brother took apart Roo's crib.

I'm glad the latter happened while I was out. I'm not sure how well I'd have handled watching her crib being disassembled. Especially today. Although it was a bit of a shock to go into my room and see boxes where once there was a bed, I think that was easier than it would have been to be in my room, the room that was once both my room and Roo's, and watch my brother break the crib down while I stood nearby with an Allen wrench and a Kleenex box. I'm going to shed enough tears tonight over things as it is.

While I was out with my niece today, I kept imagining what it would have been like to take Roo out in a few years - what sorts of things she might have enjoyed, what her little voice might sound like, what sort of personality she'd have as my daughter, the daughter of a poor, stressed-out single mom.

I'm glad I don't have to find out what effect my life choices might have had on Roo. I'm glad that if she ends up with some sort of social or emotional problems, they won't be a result of my selfishness. But knowing that she has the best possible start in life is cold comfort when all I want in the world is to be a mom, to be her mom, to hold her when she cries and to smile back when she offers a gummy grin.

Roo is four months old, which means I placed her almost exactly two months ago. P and M have almost had her as long as I did, which is an odd (but not altogether unpleasant) feeling. I think I'll be happy when she's been theirs longer than she was mine.

I have nine nieces and nephews, so I know what babies are up to at four months. I know what I'm missing out on. And it hurts - I hate to think of all of those important milestones that are no longer mine to witness. When she learns to say "Mama," she won't be saying it to me. I know that Roo will grow up knowing who I am and what I did for her and that she will in all likelihood love me as much as anyone can in her circumstances. But she will never love me the way a child loves their mother. She will never love me a fraction as much as I love her. I love her so much it almost physically hurts me. She'll never know just how much, and she'll never return the sentiment.

I hate that. I was Mommy for nine weeks. Shouldn't that count for something? But she'll never remember that time. She'll never know me as mom. She'll never remember our short time together, the hours I spent just holding her and watching her sweet face in repose.

I miss her. I miss being her mommy. I miss being a mommy, period. I wonder if I'll ever get the chance again. I hope I will. I pray that I will. In the meantime I try to appreciate the blessing it is to have had Roo for nine weeks - to have given her life, really. And I never take for granted the amazing blessing of open adoption. Roo isn't mine anymore, but she isn't lost to me, and some days that's enough.