Wednesday, May 11, 2011

AND, the journey is brought to an abrupt, screeching halt...

as the birthmom changes her mind and announces she'd like to keep her baby. After several weeks of allowing clean laundry, boxes from unpacking, winter gear, and outgrown little girls' clothes to accumulate in my increasingly-messy bedroom, I asked my husband to pack up the stacks of baby boy clothes I could not bring myself to face. Now I can proceed with the organizing project I have half-done.

Empty arms. I can't decide if this is more or less painful than a miscarriage. In a way, easier - bc w a miscarriage, there is the self-inflicted guilt of knowing somehow your body did not "do its job" properly. More difficult, bc there isn't peace in knowing that baby now resides with the Lord, but with a young, inexperienced mom who may not give him the same love and care that you would. Either way you slice it, it is just plain yukky, and sad. That heartache is coupled with the fact that my oldest, darling son is soon leaving to go out into the real world. Parents must typically not realize what a gem their child is until they are faced with losing them, or at least a distinct separation from them. I get choked up at the oddest moments...

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