It is officially a done deal. The adoption is indefeasible both legally and spiritually.
Today, Roo was sealed to her mommy and daddy. She is theirs for eternity. I think I'm a little jealous, as a matter of fact. I only got her for nine weeks. They get her forever.
I'm not sure what I expected today to be like, but this certainly wasn't it. I thought I'd be happier, for one. And I was happy, at first. In the temple waiting area, I felt peaceful and calm. And when they came out, M holding a white-clad Roo, I couldn't contain my joy.
I don't know why, but my joy was short-lived. Everyone went outside for pictures, and I started to feel strange. I got a few pictures with me and P and M and Roo. I look gigantic in them. I'll admit it, I weigh nearly as much now as I did on my due date. But then, some people started to leave, and M said they'd see me tomorrow for the blessing, and they left. I didn't get to hold Roo at all. I guess I thought I'd get her for a minute or two at least. She looked so cute in her white dress. She had a matching bow on her head. I managed to get a few pictures while one of Roo's aunts held her. She has the most expressive little face.
Everyone left, ostensibly for some sort of family party/lunch. Just like that, it was over. I started to feel like I needn't have bothered coming, which was a rather horrible feeling. My mom headed for the parking lot but I wasn't ready to leave yet. I found a stone bench in front of a bit of desert landscaping - cacti, succulents, and the odd palm tree. I dropped my purse, sat on the bench, and cried for all I was worth. I felt absolutely dreadful, and I was mad at myself for it. How selfish am I that on this wonderful, joyful day, the day when Roo got what I wanted most for her, all I could think of was myself, and how sad and lonely and empty I felt? But feeling so horribly selfish only made me cry harder.
If I'm honest, I felt a bit like I did right after placement - like someone had ripped my guts out, put them in a sack, and beat me with it. I wished very much that the bench I was on would turn me to stone, too, so I didn't have to think and feel anymore. I felt empty - oh, how I felt empty. And desperate and lost and oh so alone.
Finally, the cold got to me, and my mother and I left. I cried in the car, too. When we got home, I curled up on the couch and sobbed. I sent a pathetic-sounding text to S, who called me up. I whined to her for forty minutes. I don't know why it helped, but it did. She didn't say anything much more than, "It sucks, Jill, I know it sucks," but for some reason that made me feel a little better.
I fell asleep on the couch and had strange dreams - I was in a room like the waiting room at the temple, and I'd been there all day - hours and hours. People came and went but no one I knew, no one I was waiting for. I knew I was waiting for someone or something important but who or what it was never appeared.
I felt better when I woke up. Positively delighted, as a matter of fact. I felt fantastic. The feeling lasted an hour or two. Then I went back to feeling like trash. Then back up. Then back down.
My mother took me shopping to try to cheer me up. It had the opposite effect. I'd forgotten until tonight that there's nothing quite like a weekend trip to the mall to destroy your faith in humanity. Salespeople were rude and unhelpful, I'm too fat to shop anywhere, and I kept getting lost in the stupid mall. My feet hurt and my head hurt and I thought that getting Olive Garden to go would help. Until I got home and realized they'd forgotten my breadsticks. And they were closed for the night, so I couldn't go back and get any. And I only ordered salad and breadsticks, which left me with salad for dinner. I didn't just want salad. I only like their salad with their breadsticks. No dinner for me.
That was enough to send me over the edge again, and I've just finished up a nice bout of crying. I am so SICK of crying. If tears cleanse the soul, as my mother says, my soul must be so clean it squeaks. This whole day has just been a strange sort of disaster, and I wish very much that I could go back and repeat it. Or forget it entirely.
I hate that I can't just be happy for Roo. Today was such a special day for her and her parents. Why can't I be happy for them? I love them. They're happy. I should be happy. But instead I am cold and tired and hungry and miserable. Instead, I'm glad they're happy, and I think, gee, it must be nice to be happy. I'm not sure I'd know what that was like.
Roo will be blessed in church tomorrow. I hope tomorrow's a better day. I hope tomorrow I can just be happy about it. I hope that tomorrow I won't feel so devastated, so invisible, so unimportant. I KNOW it's not about me, and that I am not strictly speaking important, so don't bother to tell me that. But I did give my Roo a better life, that's something. Doesn't that make me just the tiniest bit important? I wish I felt that way. I wish I knew how.
Roo is sealed to her family. I am happy for her, and for her parents, I really, truly am. What joy for them! I'd love to have a shot at that kind of joy. I worry I never will.