Saturday, September 19, 2009

Missing the missing, and feeling insecure

I miss Roo.

Part of me wondered if I would still miss her as much after yesterday, after realizing how much she felt like theirs and not mine. Part of me still wonders, actually, because I'm not sure which Roo I miss. Do I miss the sweet baby I saw yesterday, the one who snuggled in my arms and fell asleep? Or do I miss the baby that I knew before, the one who was mine? They are not the same baby, I realized yesterday.

It scared me a little, actually, how different things felt. I didn't feel, as I took Roo out of her car seat, that this was my baby. I wanted to. I hoped to. I was confused by how I felt. But I picked her up and held her and felt very strongly that this was not my baby. This was P's and M's baby girl. Their daughter. Which left me feeling a bit lost, a bit confused. Where had my baby gone? She had transformed, in nine short days, into someone else's baby.

I think I held her a little tighter then, when it hit me. I wanted to cling to the idea that I had a baby out there somewhere. And as I said, it scared me a little that my baby seemed to have disappeared, and in her place was someone else's baby. I felt lost all yesterday evening. My baby was gone. It was almost as though I had experienced a death. I couldn't look at things and think, it's okay that Roo won't wear this Halloween costume I picked out for her, because she will have another costume, and she will still have as much fun as a baby can on Halloween. It felt like, I was going to have a baby this Halloween. That baby is gone. No one will wear this costume. I will not have a baby.

It really does feel like a loss of sorts, a death of sorts. Jill's baby is no longer. I don't have a baby. My baby has disappeared. My baby is missing. And I miss her.

I miss the Roo I saw yesterday as well. I already wish I could see her and cuddle her again, and now knowing exactly when I will have that chance is depressing. I didn't realize until today how much it meant to me to have a date and time to see her set aside - something very specific to look forward to.

I thought about calling or sending e-mail to P and M about seeing Roo again, but I ... I don't know. I don't want them to feel like I am pushy or intrusive. I am sure they are busy people. And part of it is just me. I am used to people not liking me - to people merely tolerating me, or pretending to like me because they have to. Part of me worries that P and M are doing the latter. That I annoy them, that they wish I'd just go away now they've got their baby. I know they don't, but I've been treated so poorly by so many people for so long that I find it hard to trust that people actually like me. I find it hard to be myself because I am afraid that who I am is annoying or repulsive to people.

I am going to be part of a birthmother panel at an adoption event in mid-October. I will see them then, at least. I would like to see Roo before then, but I'm not sure how to ask. I'm not sure how it's best to do this. Should we continue to meet at restaurants? That tends to be tricky, because it's hard to eat and snuggle a baby at the same time. And it gets expensive. But I don't know where else to go - I don't think I'm allowed to know where they live, and I don't know that they'd be comfortable at my house, and there aren't really any places to go and just visit for a few hours.

I got to hold Roo for nearly three hours yesterday. It was awesome.

I hate feeling sad and lonely and lost and insecure. I know I stand to receive some awesome blessings for the sacrifice I made. But I sort of wonder ... when, Heavenly Father? When do I get to see some of those blessings? Can I have a little tiny blessing or two right away? Something to look at and say, yes, things are getting better? I haven't felt particularly blessed these past ten days. I have felt lots of things, but most of them weren't great - lost and empty and lonely and afraid and hopeless and sad and depressed and desperate ... I know people have been praying for me to have peace and comfort. And I've had that. Off and on, for a few minutes here and there. I'll feel fine, and then something stupid will take that peace away, and I will feel again that I've made a mistake, that I should have kept my baby, because I will never have another baby and all I've ever wanted in the world is to be a mommy.

People I have talked to say that they are sure I will marry someday and have more children. I wish I could be as hopeful. H is the only man who has ever been interested in me. And it turns out, he was using me more than anything else, so I'm not sure how interested he ever really was. I have a hard time imagining that any man - any good man, at that - would ever be interested. It's hard to have hope when you are nearly 26 and you have the romantic history I do. I have never, ever been asked out on a date. I have been rejected by 290 men on eHarmony and countless others on LDSSingles. How am I supposed to get married if I can't even get a hello?

This is part of why I miss my Roo. When I was holding her, nothing else in the world seemed to matter. Because I loved my baby, and she was mine, and I was holding her, and we were both okay. I don't have anyone to hold anymore. I don't have a sweet baby to occupy my mind. I'm left alone with myself again, and I'm afraid I'm not very good company.

Sometimes I bundle up the blanket M made for me and I hold it like a baby. I close my eyes and pretend that it is my Roo. I never completely believe myself, but the familiar position of my arms is comforting to me in a way that almost nothing else is.

If you are reading this, please pray for me. I need peace and comfort. I need love. I need to feel okay. I need to have hope. And I need to learn to have those things without Roo.

No comments: