Fifteen Weeks

It has been fifteen weeks since I placed my Roo. She’s 24 weeks old – 5 ½ months. I can still remember with astonishing clarity that surreal afternoon in July that my mother drove us all home from the hospital. Roo looked so tiny in her car seat. I spent the entire drive home squished up next to the car seat, worried that every little bump in the road would jostle my baby’s delicate neck too much. I had a burp cloth rolled up and wedged in between Roo’s head and the seat’s u-shaped head support because it wasn’t snug enough for my peace of mind.

Now Roo sits up confidently in her cart seat, chubby legs and wedge-shaped feet kicking happily as she reaches for the toys dangling from the seat handle. She smiles and laughs and babbles and makes the funniest, sweetest little faces as she looks around.

Equally fresh in my mind is that night fifteen weeks ago – the heartrending moment I passed Roo from my arms to her mommy’s. The clatter of the unfastened car seat buckle. The burning sensation deep in my gut that was the only feeling I was cognizant of – everything else was a clawing, biting chasm – emptiness. Coldness. Despair. I thought I'd never be cheerful again. Some days I still wonder.

This week has been a tough one. I don’t know why. But every little thing has reminded me of my Roo, and I miss her desperately. I’ve cried buckets. My mother used to say that tears cleanse the soul. My soul must be squeaky-clean and shiny by now.

Last year, I thought I couldn’t possibly have a worse Christmas. My dad had just died, I’d just been fired, and I was pregnant. What could be more devastating? Now I know. I long for the nausea and vague disquiet of a year ago. This year’s gentle (and often not-so-gentle) sobbing and complicated grief are infinitely less palatable. I miss her so much! I have little to distract me from the pain, and I'm not sure what to do with the tangle of emotions that come up.

I contacted S after I got that horrible e-mail on Friday and she promised she'd call me as soon as she could. That was five days ago and I've not gotten so much as a text message from her. I wish I had. I don't know who else to turn to for help figuring things out. The birth mothers I know have vastly different situations than I do, different relationships with their adoptive couples, different levels of openness. I'll talk to my therapist when I see him today, but he understands so little of this process that I doubt he'll be much help with things. I really need(ed) S, and she's let me down. Again. I love her dearly, but I confess myself disappointed.

I feel like ... I think it's sort of like I'm a child with divorced parents. And S is the non-custodial parent, making promises and plans and then letting them fall through. I have a good time talking and spending time with her when she can swing it, but I can never count on her when it's important. And so I cry to my mother instead, asking why someone who loves me would continue to let me down.

I miss Roo so much! I have times I want her back - for my sake, not for hers. I wish I could just hold her for a while. I suppose I could ask for a visit, but I just saw Roo a week ago. I don't want to be demanding or obnoxious to P and M. They don't owe me anything. I am acutely aware that openness is a courtesy, not a right. Not that I suspect they'd ever just cut me off. But that irrational part of my brain worries about that sort of stupid thing.

I miss Roo, and I don't know what to do with it. I don't know what to do, period. I feel like I'm waiting for my life to start. I've been praying for months for guidance - should I go back to school? Should I try to find a job? Nothing feels right, nothing fits. If I'm honest I don't want to go back to school. I don't want to get a job. The only job I'm interested in is that of mother. I want to get married and have a family. I wish I had more control over that. I wish I had more hope.

It's hard. But I know that if I have faith, I have to have hope. And so I'm working on it. I have to trust that my mother is right - Heavenly Father wouldn't ask me to do what I've done, to go through so much pain and anguish, and not bless me for it. He wouldn't take so much without having a compensation planned out for me. I just wish I knew when I can expect blessings for my sacrifice and obedience. I am not a patient person, and the longer it takes, the harder it gets to keep waiting.