My little Roo is seven months old today! I love her so much. I miss her.
I'm probably not going to have a visit for a while. I've decided I'm okay with that. My mother is fond of reminding me that that which does not kill me, makes me stronger. I've always liked to correct her, citing ample evidence from my life to prove that that which does not kill me, makes me wish it had. (I've also coined the phrase, "This, too, shall pass, like a kidney stone.) But I've found that there's no point in worrying about things that are beyond my control. Not to say that I don't still worry about them, but I try not to, because nothing ever comes of it but more worry.
Roo has the very best parents, she really does. I know that everything they do for her they do because it's in her best interest. I guess what I've grown to hate is that, since Roo was born, the things that are in her best interest and the things that are in my b est interest seem mutually exclusive. It seems grossly unjust, and there are days where every breath I draw is a battle to reconcile myself to that perpetual, seemingly permanent injustice. It stings.
Although I can easily recognize the hand of God in my precious baby's life, it seems particularly cruel that I - the one who grew her and carried her and gave her life and cared for her as I've never cared for anyone before - will play no part in her upbringing, something that defies biology and instinct and every atom of every cell in my body. Though I will be a part of her life, however small, she will never in a million years appreciate how deeply I love her. It is the worst sort of unrequited love.
I'm getting maudlin and broody. I don't mean to sound so despairing or melancholy. My feelings of sadness today were brief and passing. I have felt joy and peace more deeply since going to the temple than I ever have before in my entire life. I don't think I've been unhappy for more than about fifteen minutes total since I left the temple. I know that temple attendance does not make life perfect or without trial. But it helps, and it has made such a difference for me!
I am eternally grateful to my Father in Heaven for entrusting His precious daughter to me - for trusting me to take care of her developing physical body and to find the family He meant her for. I am thankful for those nine weeks I had to be her mommy. In placing her, I was able to give her an eternal family. As a birth mom, one of the hardest things to come to terms with is that the only way you can give your child what you want for them is to give them to someone else. Although I like to think that I gave them to her, and not the other way around. I couldn't give her what I wanted most for her by being her mommy. I think I'm finally okay with that. Roo is where she was meant to be. There isn't a doubt in my mind that P and M are supposed to be her parents. And I'm okay with that, too. I'm happy about it. And so is Roo.