The latest Roo update: she is even cuter than before (which you wouldn't even think would be possible!); she's got a great head of hair (thick and soft and long enough for little clips and bows); she is a sweet, smart, happy girl; she is crawling and clapping; and she appears to have inherited my chunky thighs. Luckily they look cute on her :o) No one thinks my fat rolls are cute anymore! (ha-ha)
She has the most amazing family. I love them more than I can say. Roo is so blessed to be their baby!
I think that's it for now :o)
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Happy Tears
Something pretty awesome happened a few days ago, and I thought I'd share. I slept poorly last night, so I apologize if this is a bit too stream-of-consciousness to make sense of. And I apologize for ending the preceding sentence with a preposition :o)
I was writing up a short (ha-ha!) version of my story for this guest blog I did. I don't know if it's super-cheesy or not, but I sometimes get all teary when I write and/or read my own story. Or tell my own story. Anyway. I had a box of Kleenex nearby as I typed, just in case. And I needed it. But not for the reason I expected.
When I got to writing the part where Roo met her parents for the first time, I started to cry - not for myself or any of the emotion I'd felt at the tie. I cried because I realized in that moment how amazing it must have been for P and M to meet their baby girl. I cried for what they must have felt, for the thoughts they must have had. I cried happy tears because that was probably one of the most amazing and happy moments of their lives, and in reliving that moment I was so super happy for them all over again!
That was huge for me. I used to cry for me, for what choosing adoption meant to me. I used to cry because I knew when I met P and M that I wasn't Roo's mommy anymore. The thought of that feeling, that quiet peace tinged with sadness, used to be what made me tear up.
Something has changed in me. I don't know when or how or why, but all I know is that for the first time when going over that part of Roo's and my story, I didn't think of myself for a second. And it is the most wonderful, freeing thing! I really am so truly happy for P and M. I am happy that they're Roo's parents. I'm happy that they got a baby last year - their baby.
I love them so much. I am more thankful for them than words can express. I'm thankful that, though Roo's story began with me, it will end with them. I wouldn't change a thing.
I was writing up a short (ha-ha!) version of my story for this guest blog I did. I don't know if it's super-cheesy or not, but I sometimes get all teary when I write and/or read my own story. Or tell my own story. Anyway. I had a box of Kleenex nearby as I typed, just in case. And I needed it. But not for the reason I expected.
When I got to writing the part where Roo met her parents for the first time, I started to cry - not for myself or any of the emotion I'd felt at the tie. I cried because I realized in that moment how amazing it must have been for P and M to meet their baby girl. I cried for what they must have felt, for the thoughts they must have had. I cried happy tears because that was probably one of the most amazing and happy moments of their lives, and in reliving that moment I was so super happy for them all over again!
That was huge for me. I used to cry for me, for what choosing adoption meant to me. I used to cry because I knew when I met P and M that I wasn't Roo's mommy anymore. The thought of that feeling, that quiet peace tinged with sadness, used to be what made me tear up.
Something has changed in me. I don't know when or how or why, but all I know is that for the first time when going over that part of Roo's and my story, I didn't think of myself for a second. And it is the most wonderful, freeing thing! I really am so truly happy for P and M. I am happy that they're Roo's parents. I'm happy that they got a baby last year - their baby.
I love them so much. I am more thankful for them than words can express. I'm thankful that, though Roo's story began with me, it will end with them. I wouldn't change a thing.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
April 2009, Part Four – Odds and Ends of the Month
Despite my “decision,” I wanted to keep my options open. I looked into what being a single mother would entail – what I would need to buy, what my expenses would be. I had a fairly decent savings built up from my last job, and I was prepared to use it.
From my journal:
“Good grief, you're a mover. Aren't you supposed to sleep in there on occasion? Give Mommy a rest?
I don't much care. I love knowing you're happy (I've decided they're happy kicks). I know you're warm and safe and cared-for as long as you're where you are.”
The baby discovered my ribs, and her little feet were almost always digging in. I tried pushing them away; she pushed back. It was uncomfortable but delightful at the same time. My emotions weren’t so cut-and-dry. I wrote in my journal: “I've felt weird today. Like I didn't want to keep you. It scares me. Especially because when I thought about, ok, say I don't keep you, it freaked me out. I'm hoping this is just some normal hormonal thing. Because I do want you. I want you more than I've wanted anything in my life. I love you so much already.”
My mixed feelings scared me. On the one hand, I did not want to give my baby up. I felt that, if I did, I would have nothing left. But every so often I found myself thinking that I really didn’t want to be a mom just yet. I felt selfish and awful and disloyal for thinking so. But I missed my antidepressants. I’d been taking them for 10 years before I got pregnant, and had to drop them all cold turkey when I found out I was expecting. My brain really noticed the absence, and it wasn’t happy. I told myself that having a baby would give me a bit more stability and routine, and that that would help.
I had strange dreams. I dreamed my baby was born a boy, and I was disappointed. I dreamed that I kept losing track of my baby, and when I tried to feed him (she came out a he again), he suckled weakly for a few seconds and then stopped and gave me a reproving stare. I worried that he would starve, and people around me told me that if they were his parents, he’d be eating normally. They were awful dreams. I tried to remind myself that they were only dreams, that my baby was indeed a girl, and that she would certainly eat when she was hungry.
All the pregnancy books said that crazy dreams were normal, which helped me feel a little better. The books also suggested putting together a birth plan. I found a fill-in-the-blank birth plan on-line and printed it out. It was six pages long, and I was quickly overwhelmed. There were too many things on it that I didn’t want to think about. All I really wanted was to get my baby out with as little pain as possible, and if the doctor needed to do something to help get her out, the doctor could do that. I wrote that on an index card and tucked it away to take with me to the hospital.
Braxton-Hicks contractions started up every now and then. It was getting harder and harder to sit comfortably. When I did sit, I had fun watching my belly roll around and wiggle as little hands and feet poked around. I watched American Idol that year, and I noticed that the baby seemed to dance a bit more when Danny was singing. I got a kick out of that, since he was my favorite.
I scheduled a 3D ultrasound for the last day of the month. There was a coupon in the Money Mailer, and my mother thought I deserved a special sort of thing like that. I so looked forward to it. I couldn’t wait to see my baby’s teeny-tiny little nose again, and get a better look at her face, and see if she smiled or sucked her thumb, and get a sense of what sort of little person she was.
The receptionist told me the ultrasound rooms could seat 8 friends and family members. I cried about that on and off. Because I didn’t have anyone – I went to my doctor’s appointments by myself, I got excited about the baby by myself. I hated feeling so alone. I knew it was my own fault for doing things wrong. But that didn’t make it any easier to take. I felt lonely and isolated and unloved, and I hated it. I wondered if my depression would be passed on to my baby.
“What am I going to do with you?” I wrote in my journal. “I wish I knew. I want to keep you. I think I will. But I want what's best for you, what's right for you. It's got to be best for a little girl to be with her mommy, right? Surely I'm the one who will take the best care of you.” Surely, I thought, I could understand her best, relate to her problems. Care about her more than anyone else ever could.
Despite feeling a bit alone, my 3D ultrasound was a wonderful experience. It was absolutely amazing! My little girl’s hands were up by her face the whole time. She had long fingers and toes, which I could see clearly as both feet were up by (and sometimes in) her face. I watched in awe as the baby in my belly grabbed hold of her tiny toes. It was go cool to feel her move and see it at the same time. And she moved, and moved. The poor ultrasound technician had to keep moving the little wand around to keep the baby from hiding her face.
I was enchanted, absolutely bewitched. My baby had the cutest, tiniest little nose, and my family’s trademark chin, and beautiful full lips. She was absolutely perfect. I watched, transfixed, as my baby tugged on her toes and rubbed her eyes and flexed her fingers and made funny faces. It was pure awesomeness. I was disappointed when my time was up. I was sent home with a picture CD, a DVD of the entire ultrasound, and handfuls of pictures printed out. I quickly found my favorites and looked at them the most. I loved knowing what my baby’s face looked like – that she had my chin and long fingers, and that she had such long eyelashes (they were clearly visible on the scan!), and that she had my wide, flat feet with chubby toes.
I rubbed my belly with renewed vigor. My baby felt more like a real person than she ever had. I talked to her more. Having seen her face, I felt a deeper connection. When I felt her sneeze or hiccup, I could picture what she looked like at the time, the tiny nose wrinkling, wee little fists clenching. It was magical. I wished I could have had a 3D ultrasound every day.
From my journal:
“Good grief, you're a mover. Aren't you supposed to sleep in there on occasion? Give Mommy a rest?
I don't much care. I love knowing you're happy (I've decided they're happy kicks). I know you're warm and safe and cared-for as long as you're where you are.”
The baby discovered my ribs, and her little feet were almost always digging in. I tried pushing them away; she pushed back. It was uncomfortable but delightful at the same time. My emotions weren’t so cut-and-dry. I wrote in my journal: “I've felt weird today. Like I didn't want to keep you. It scares me. Especially because when I thought about, ok, say I don't keep you, it freaked me out. I'm hoping this is just some normal hormonal thing. Because I do want you. I want you more than I've wanted anything in my life. I love you so much already.”
My mixed feelings scared me. On the one hand, I did not want to give my baby up. I felt that, if I did, I would have nothing left. But every so often I found myself thinking that I really didn’t want to be a mom just yet. I felt selfish and awful and disloyal for thinking so. But I missed my antidepressants. I’d been taking them for 10 years before I got pregnant, and had to drop them all cold turkey when I found out I was expecting. My brain really noticed the absence, and it wasn’t happy. I told myself that having a baby would give me a bit more stability and routine, and that that would help.
I had strange dreams. I dreamed my baby was born a boy, and I was disappointed. I dreamed that I kept losing track of my baby, and when I tried to feed him (she came out a he again), he suckled weakly for a few seconds and then stopped and gave me a reproving stare. I worried that he would starve, and people around me told me that if they were his parents, he’d be eating normally. They were awful dreams. I tried to remind myself that they were only dreams, that my baby was indeed a girl, and that she would certainly eat when she was hungry.
All the pregnancy books said that crazy dreams were normal, which helped me feel a little better. The books also suggested putting together a birth plan. I found a fill-in-the-blank birth plan on-line and printed it out. It was six pages long, and I was quickly overwhelmed. There were too many things on it that I didn’t want to think about. All I really wanted was to get my baby out with as little pain as possible, and if the doctor needed to do something to help get her out, the doctor could do that. I wrote that on an index card and tucked it away to take with me to the hospital.
Braxton-Hicks contractions started up every now and then. It was getting harder and harder to sit comfortably. When I did sit, I had fun watching my belly roll around and wiggle as little hands and feet poked around. I watched American Idol that year, and I noticed that the baby seemed to dance a bit more when Danny was singing. I got a kick out of that, since he was my favorite.
I scheduled a 3D ultrasound for the last day of the month. There was a coupon in the Money Mailer, and my mother thought I deserved a special sort of thing like that. I so looked forward to it. I couldn’t wait to see my baby’s teeny-tiny little nose again, and get a better look at her face, and see if she smiled or sucked her thumb, and get a sense of what sort of little person she was.
The receptionist told me the ultrasound rooms could seat 8 friends and family members. I cried about that on and off. Because I didn’t have anyone – I went to my doctor’s appointments by myself, I got excited about the baby by myself. I hated feeling so alone. I knew it was my own fault for doing things wrong. But that didn’t make it any easier to take. I felt lonely and isolated and unloved, and I hated it. I wondered if my depression would be passed on to my baby.
“What am I going to do with you?” I wrote in my journal. “I wish I knew. I want to keep you. I think I will. But I want what's best for you, what's right for you. It's got to be best for a little girl to be with her mommy, right? Surely I'm the one who will take the best care of you.” Surely, I thought, I could understand her best, relate to her problems. Care about her more than anyone else ever could.
Despite feeling a bit alone, my 3D ultrasound was a wonderful experience. It was absolutely amazing! My little girl’s hands were up by her face the whole time. She had long fingers and toes, which I could see clearly as both feet were up by (and sometimes in) her face. I watched in awe as the baby in my belly grabbed hold of her tiny toes. It was go cool to feel her move and see it at the same time. And she moved, and moved. The poor ultrasound technician had to keep moving the little wand around to keep the baby from hiding her face.
I was enchanted, absolutely bewitched. My baby had the cutest, tiniest little nose, and my family’s trademark chin, and beautiful full lips. She was absolutely perfect. I watched, transfixed, as my baby tugged on her toes and rubbed her eyes and flexed her fingers and made funny faces. It was pure awesomeness. I was disappointed when my time was up. I was sent home with a picture CD, a DVD of the entire ultrasound, and handfuls of pictures printed out. I quickly found my favorites and looked at them the most. I loved knowing what my baby’s face looked like – that she had my chin and long fingers, and that she had such long eyelashes (they were clearly visible on the scan!), and that she had my wide, flat feet with chubby toes.
I rubbed my belly with renewed vigor. My baby felt more like a real person than she ever had. I talked to her more. Having seen her face, I felt a deeper connection. When I felt her sneeze or hiccup, I could picture what she looked like at the time, the tiny nose wrinkling, wee little fists clenching. It was magical. I wished I could have had a 3D ultrasound every day.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Happy Birthday, Mom!
Today is a special day. It's my mom's birthday!
Fifty-three years ago, these two über-stylish folks ...
... were at a party. I don't know all the details, but I do know that at one point during the party, they got a phone call from someone at Quintard Hospital - the phone call they'd been waiting for. Their baby had been born, and it was a girl!
Some people might have been confused had they listened in on that phone call. The lovely lady was, after all, about eight months pregnant. Had the hospital called the wrong people?
Nope. Because their new baby was special. Their little girl had been born to this young woman:
They didn't know her name. They didn't know how old she was or where she lived or what sort of person she was. All they knew was that she had made the bravest, most selfless and impossible decision a mother can ever make. She had chosen to place her sweet, tiny baby girl for adoption.
I don't know the exact timeline of things. I don't know how long that newborn girl stayed in the hospital with the woman who gave her life. But I do know that young woman placed her baby in the arms of the lovely lady and asked, "You'll have her sealed to you, won't you?" And the lovely lady tearfully replied in the affirmative. She kept her promise. Many months later the lovely lady and the handsome gentleman took that baby girl to the Los Angeles temple and became her parents for eternity.
The young woman didn't know any of this. She never knew what had happened to the tiny girl she placed for adoption. She had no way of knowing anything about her - whether she was happy and safe, whether she had a good life, whether she succumbed to a childhood illness, whether she'd been disfigured in an accident, whether she believed in God ... she never got pictures or visits or letters or updates. When she handed that newborn to the lovely lady, she said goodbye forever.
I wonder where she found the strength to do such a thing! What a brave, noble choice. I am so thankful for it. I am thankful for that impossible courage. I am thankful that she made that choice. That darling girl ...
... grew up, of course, to become my mother.
From her birth mother, my mother got tenacity, strength, courage, a handful of quirks and of course the DNA that gave her hazel eyes and brown hair and a body that stopped growing taller at 5-foot-2 and a laugh that gets goofy when she's tired. And from her mother, she got love, patience, kindness, loyalty, responsibility, joy, knowledge, a love of God and a strong testimony of the Gospel ... and the odd annoying habit, of course. My mother is the incredible woman she is today because of both of her mothers. The mother who grew her and gave her life and sacrificed so much for her, and the mother who is her true, real, forever mother, the one who raised her and loved her and cared for her and taught her and took her to the temple.
Today, on my mother's birthday, I am more thankful I can say for both of my mom's mothers. Because of her birth mother, I had the strength to place my Roo. And because of her mother mother, MY mother is an amazing, smart, strong woman, herself a good mother and an inspiration to me.
Happy birthday, best mother of mine. I love you.
Fifty-three years ago, these two über-stylish folks ...
... were at a party. I don't know all the details, but I do know that at one point during the party, they got a phone call from someone at Quintard Hospital - the phone call they'd been waiting for. Their baby had been born, and it was a girl!
Some people might have been confused had they listened in on that phone call. The lovely lady was, after all, about eight months pregnant. Had the hospital called the wrong people?
Nope. Because their new baby was special. Their little girl had been born to this young woman:
They didn't know her name. They didn't know how old she was or where she lived or what sort of person she was. All they knew was that she had made the bravest, most selfless and impossible decision a mother can ever make. She had chosen to place her sweet, tiny baby girl for adoption.
I don't know the exact timeline of things. I don't know how long that newborn girl stayed in the hospital with the woman who gave her life. But I do know that young woman placed her baby in the arms of the lovely lady and asked, "You'll have her sealed to you, won't you?" And the lovely lady tearfully replied in the affirmative. She kept her promise. Many months later the lovely lady and the handsome gentleman took that baby girl to the Los Angeles temple and became her parents for eternity.
The young woman didn't know any of this. She never knew what had happened to the tiny girl she placed for adoption. She had no way of knowing anything about her - whether she was happy and safe, whether she had a good life, whether she succumbed to a childhood illness, whether she'd been disfigured in an accident, whether she believed in God ... she never got pictures or visits or letters or updates. When she handed that newborn to the lovely lady, she said goodbye forever.
I wonder where she found the strength to do such a thing! What a brave, noble choice. I am so thankful for it. I am thankful for that impossible courage. I am thankful that she made that choice. That darling girl ...
... grew up, of course, to become my mother.
From her birth mother, my mother got tenacity, strength, courage, a handful of quirks and of course the DNA that gave her hazel eyes and brown hair and a body that stopped growing taller at 5-foot-2 and a laugh that gets goofy when she's tired. And from her mother, she got love, patience, kindness, loyalty, responsibility, joy, knowledge, a love of God and a strong testimony of the Gospel ... and the odd annoying habit, of course. My mother is the incredible woman she is today because of both of her mothers. The mother who grew her and gave her life and sacrificed so much for her, and the mother who is her true, real, forever mother, the one who raised her and loved her and cared for her and taught her and took her to the temple.
Today, on my mother's birthday, I am more thankful I can say for both of my mom's mothers. Because of her birth mother, I had the strength to place my Roo. And because of her mother mother, MY mother is an amazing, smart, strong woman, herself a good mother and an inspiration to me.
Happy birthday, best mother of mine. I love you.
Monday, April 19, 2010
You All Love Adoption, Right?
Well, some super creative, super cool people here in the Valley of the Sun who have adoption connections are putting on the Boutique in the Barn (click the name for the link). Here's the important stuff:
There's also a bonus for the first 50 people who get there. I won't be one of them; I've got something going until 1pm. But I'm going to find a few nice things in the afternoon for my mum for Mother's Day.
I'm not completely altruistic, of course. I can't be one of the first 50 there, but by blogging about the boutique, I'm entered into a contest to win a gift bag, too. I hope I win!
Win or lose, I'll be at the boutique that Saturday, doing my part to support adoption! You should go, too.
There's also a bonus for the first 50 people who get there. I won't be one of them; I've got something going until 1pm. But I'm going to find a few nice things in the afternoon for my mum for Mother's Day.
I'm not completely altruistic, of course. I can't be one of the first 50 there, but by blogging about the boutique, I'm entered into a contest to win a gift bag, too. I hope I win!
Win or lose, I'll be at the boutique that Saturday, doing my part to support adoption! You should go, too.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Adoption Academy and a Bit of Rambling
Yesterday I got to speak at another adoption academy. The birth mom panel wasn't until 12:45, but I went much earlier because my mom was on the adult adoptee panel and I wanted to support her. She did such an amazing job. I'm so proud! My mother never talked about being adopted until 6 months ago at the last adoption academy. I think it's been good for her to do them.
One thing she always emphasizes is that adoption was an enormous blessing for her. Her parents were supposed to be her parents. She grew up with the family she was meant to have. Being adopted never made her feel any less; I can vouch for that. I always got the impression that my mom was her parents' favorite, as a matter of fact. My grandma always told my mom that she was a joy. How blessed is my mom to have such a great family? I don't doubt she was meant to be theirs. My grandma knew it, too. Her family must have thought she was crazy, adopting a baby when she was seven months pregnant. I'm so glad she did!
My mom had to leave after her part because she had a flight to catch - she's in Canada for about a week visiting my brother and his wife and their sweet little kids. I stayed. For my part, of course, but for the rest of it, too. I LOVE adoption academies. There is such an amazing spirit there and I always come away feeling like the luckiest person in the world to be a part of them, and a part of adoption in general. There's just something very special about the people there - those who can bear witness that God puts people in the families they're meant for in a very real way. I don't think I've heard an adoption story yet at an academy that didn't give me chills.
I was on the birth mother panel with Tamra, who placed more than 12 years ago and who is one of my favorite people, ever; and Krista, who placed about 6 years ago. It was a little intimidating for me to be the one with the most recent placement, and the most open. But it was good for me, too. One thing I tire of is having my placement compared to others that might be more open, and having people think that there's something wrong with me or with my couple that we're not as super open as some others are. I think the birth mother panel helps people to see that just because each level of openness is different, doesn't mean they're any less than or not as good as another level of openness.
The level of openness I have with P an M works incredibly well for us. It's what we're all comfortable with, and I know that we're mature enough and communicate well enough that if something needed to change, it would. But it's great the way it is now. I get very regular pictures and video and updates, and visits when I need them, and we're all happy.
I don't feel like Roo's mommy. I tried to emphasize that on the panel. A lot of these couples who are certifying for the first time are very anti-open adoption, because it scares them and intimidates them. They just don't understand it. There are no boundaries blurred. Roo knows exactly who her parents are. I feel more like her aunt, and she's my favorite niece. I love her more deeply than I can say, but I'm not her mama, and I haven't tried to be. That's not my job. I didn't place her for adoption only to try to be her mom.
I so love to see opinions and thoughts change. I love to see couples understand how amazing openness can be (if that's what works for them). Obviously, Tamra doesn't have an open adoption. I admire her strength and courage. I don't think I could have done it without the promise of openness. She did. She's a hero of mine.
I probably sound like a gushing moron, but I just LOVE adoption academies! They're emotionally exhausting but oh so worth it. The Spirit is so strong there.
I think it's funny how my little flying leap off the straight and narrow has helped me feel God's love for me so much more acutely. My testimony is so much stronger now that it's ever been before. Adoption is an integral part of God's plan for his children. I am so blessed to be a part of it!
Roo's daddy gave me a CD full of pictures from the past few months of Roo, many of them including Roo's sister. The two of them are the cutest things ever. They love each other so much. I hope that they'll always be good friends. I like to picture them in a few years walking hand in hand to primary on Sunday.
And for the first time in maybe forever, I can picture my own children doing the same. I don't know when I'll marry and be a mother, but I know it will happen. God's time, not mine. Can I be super cheesy and end with a testimony? I am so blessed to have played a part in creating an eternal family. I will be forever grateful to have been chosen to bring Roo into the world; to have been trusted by my Father in Heaven to carry and deliver one of His precious children and then to find her family.
Adoption is the most amazing miracle. I am more thankful than I can ever say that it is a part of my life.
One thing she always emphasizes is that adoption was an enormous blessing for her. Her parents were supposed to be her parents. She grew up with the family she was meant to have. Being adopted never made her feel any less; I can vouch for that. I always got the impression that my mom was her parents' favorite, as a matter of fact. My grandma always told my mom that she was a joy. How blessed is my mom to have such a great family? I don't doubt she was meant to be theirs. My grandma knew it, too. Her family must have thought she was crazy, adopting a baby when she was seven months pregnant. I'm so glad she did!
My mom had to leave after her part because she had a flight to catch - she's in Canada for about a week visiting my brother and his wife and their sweet little kids. I stayed. For my part, of course, but for the rest of it, too. I LOVE adoption academies. There is such an amazing spirit there and I always come away feeling like the luckiest person in the world to be a part of them, and a part of adoption in general. There's just something very special about the people there - those who can bear witness that God puts people in the families they're meant for in a very real way. I don't think I've heard an adoption story yet at an academy that didn't give me chills.
I was on the birth mother panel with Tamra, who placed more than 12 years ago and who is one of my favorite people, ever; and Krista, who placed about 6 years ago. It was a little intimidating for me to be the one with the most recent placement, and the most open. But it was good for me, too. One thing I tire of is having my placement compared to others that might be more open, and having people think that there's something wrong with me or with my couple that we're not as super open as some others are. I think the birth mother panel helps people to see that just because each level of openness is different, doesn't mean they're any less than or not as good as another level of openness.
The level of openness I have with P an M works incredibly well for us. It's what we're all comfortable with, and I know that we're mature enough and communicate well enough that if something needed to change, it would. But it's great the way it is now. I get very regular pictures and video and updates, and visits when I need them, and we're all happy.
I don't feel like Roo's mommy. I tried to emphasize that on the panel. A lot of these couples who are certifying for the first time are very anti-open adoption, because it scares them and intimidates them. They just don't understand it. There are no boundaries blurred. Roo knows exactly who her parents are. I feel more like her aunt, and she's my favorite niece. I love her more deeply than I can say, but I'm not her mama, and I haven't tried to be. That's not my job. I didn't place her for adoption only to try to be her mom.
I so love to see opinions and thoughts change. I love to see couples understand how amazing openness can be (if that's what works for them). Obviously, Tamra doesn't have an open adoption. I admire her strength and courage. I don't think I could have done it without the promise of openness. She did. She's a hero of mine.
I probably sound like a gushing moron, but I just LOVE adoption academies! They're emotionally exhausting but oh so worth it. The Spirit is so strong there.
I think it's funny how my little flying leap off the straight and narrow has helped me feel God's love for me so much more acutely. My testimony is so much stronger now that it's ever been before. Adoption is an integral part of God's plan for his children. I am so blessed to be a part of it!
Roo's daddy gave me a CD full of pictures from the past few months of Roo, many of them including Roo's sister. The two of them are the cutest things ever. They love each other so much. I hope that they'll always be good friends. I like to picture them in a few years walking hand in hand to primary on Sunday.
And for the first time in maybe forever, I can picture my own children doing the same. I don't know when I'll marry and be a mother, but I know it will happen. God's time, not mine. Can I be super cheesy and end with a testimony? I am so blessed to have played a part in creating an eternal family. I will be forever grateful to have been chosen to bring Roo into the world; to have been trusted by my Father in Heaven to carry and deliver one of His precious children and then to find her family.
Adoption is the most amazing miracle. I am more thankful than I can ever say that it is a part of my life.
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