Archive | March, 2012

Attack of the Dream Babies

31 Mar

I’m going to tell you about a dream I have at least once every couple of months. The dream is pretty easy to explain: I’m pregnant in it. But in these pregnancy dreams, I’ve already had you – I’m pregnant again. And in these dreams, I’m always freaking out.

“I can’t do this again!”

“How am I supposed to explain this to my parents?”

“Will The B’s help me raise this one too?”

These are the thoughts that run through the mind of Dream Renee. I loved being pregnant with you. I had so much fun going to doctor’s appointments (the first and only time that has ever happened), watching my growing belly, feeling you move, finally getting to meet you…it was a wonderful experience that I loved and continue to cherish. However, it is not one I plan to repeat for a very long time, and definitely not again until I’m married, which is why this dream always terrifies me a little.

Before you, I wasn’t sure I wanted children at all. Like I’ve told you before, I was never that good with kids, and babies always cried when I held them. I just kind of deemed myself a not-kid-friendly person at an early age, and I never gave having kids much thought. But when I found out about you at that doctor’s appointment in December 2009, I suddenly knew I wanted kids. More accurately, I wanted you. But ever since then, I’ve known that I’d really like to have more kids someday, when my life and relationships are more stable. Seeing you and how you’ve turned out and knowing how much I love you has been enough to convince me of that.

But to be honest, I have no idea how this will play out where you’re concerned. I don’t know how you’d take me having more kids. Hopefully you’d be excited. Or maybe it wouldn’t be a big deal to you at all. Of course it’s way too early to think about it, but I like to worry prematurely anyways. I’m a mother. It’s in my contract.

My biggest worry is that you’d think that me having another baby would take away from my love for you. That somehow with another little presence in my world, my love would have to be spread out more thinly, that I would have to take from the love I allotted to my first child and give it to my second. You’d be wrong about that if you thought it. My love wouldn’t be spread out – it would grow, expand, multiply.

You are like a first love (literally and metaphorically). The intensity of it is so new and so real because you’ve never felt anything like it before. The whole experience changes the way you view the world, it teaches you new things, and all of this beauty and happiness you feel is linked to one, singular person. And now matter how long you are together, or how much time passes between that first love and the present day, you will forever have a special link to them. You will love people after them, but not in the same way. That doesn’t mean you love the people who come later any less – it’s just meaningful and beautiful in a different way. Nobody forgets their first love. That person leaves imprints on the heart forever that no one elses footprints will be able to match. And you, my Little Man, are unmatchable.

Though your father C was my first romantic love, you were a whole new, powerful kind of first love. And no matter who I marry or how many kids I have, you were the first. Though I certainly will love any other children I have, my love for you will be special. It will always be one-of-a-kind. Because you taught me what it was to love someone more than myself. You changed the way I saw the world, and everything that has happened since is linked with you. It always will be. I love you like I will never love anyone else. Iwilllove, certainly, and all of those loves will be unique in their own way, too. But you were the first, and that means something. Never forget it.

Also, none of this will be an issue until at least ten years from now, if not more. I’ll leave any other kids before then to Dream Renee. Though I’m sure The B’s would happily help me raise another beautiful miracle, I’m done for now. You and I will figure the rest out down the road, but right now, I love that you’re my one and only. Plus, you’re just so wonderful in every possible way, who would want to mess with success? ;)

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Is Forever Enough?

30 Mar

 This is one of the pictures that J took from your last visit. I already showed you a few of them, but this one is my favorite.

 First of all, I’m a sucker for black and white pictures. I think a lot of pictures need their color, and believe me, I love those too, but black and white just adds such a beautiful and classical edge to a photo. That’s what I love about this picture: how classical it looks. Truly like a moment of beauty and love, frozen in time. The shadows are perfect, the smile on your face melts my heart, and the hug I’m giving you is meant to convey every ounce of love I have for you. And you’re holding on to me too. That might be my favorite part.

 I know I say it all the time, but I will never be able to say it enough. I love you, Little Man. I love every hug, every smile, every picture, every second of time I get to spend with you. I love that you exist, I love that I get to call you mine, I love that my apartment is plastered with pictures of you, I love that I get to show you off, I love that simply thinking of you can turn bad around day around, I love that having you finally showed me what love truly means in the first place. I didn’t really know until I met you, and now I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone as much. You are the best thing. You mean more to me than I’ll ever be able to tell you, but I’m going to keep trying anyways. I am never going to let you forget it, not for one second.

This picture encompasses a lot of feelings. They’re worth 1,000 words and though I could certainly write that much about my love for you, it’s wonderful that we have iconic images like this to do it for us. I love you to the ends of the earth and back, to infinity and beyond. Like my favorite song for you says, “How long do you want to be loved? Is forever enough, ’cause I’m never, never giving you up.”

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Wanna Talk About Me, Wanna Talk About I

29 Mar

 I am aware that I am a biased person when it comes to you. I know for a fact that I cannot and will never be able to view you objectively. But I grant myself pardon because what parent isn’t like that when it comes to their own child? You see, to me, you are the cutest baby ever born, you were the best baby there ever was, and basically, you just do everything better and earlier than any other baby who’s ever been born. Probably not a fair judgment, but like I said…I’m biased. And since parents everywhere think the same thing of their children, I’m also not alone.

Of course, this “overestimation” in your abilities (which is not at all an overestimation in my humble opinion) extends to your brilliance. Yes, brilliance. You, my dear son, are incredibly smart. You can already say the alphabet and recognize letters and numbers. And you don’t just recite the alphabet – you actually know what letters come after which (as J told me yesterday)! You can count to twenty. You pick up on new things incredibly fast, and from everything I’ve heard in my developmental psych class about “the age that babies develop the ability to (fill in the blank),” you are always ahead of the power curve. I brag about you a lot. Even if those things weren’t true, I couldn’t be prouder of you.

Speaking of my developmental psychology class, (I know, I refer to it a lot, but it’s just so relevant!) we were discussing the other day about the age when toddlers start to recognize themselves. My textbook says it’s generally at or a little after age 2 that kids start to recognize themselves in pictures or videos or even the mirror. However, I happen to know that you’ve been able to recognize yourself for a long time. Last time you visited, one of the ways we kept you entertained was to show you videos. I showed you ones I took that day and your parents showed you ones they’d taken over the past few months. Any time you saw yourself, you would point to yourself in the video and say, “Me!” And you’re still four months away from being two years old. Who woulda thought?

But actually, that was not the first time you demonstrated your ability to recognize yourself. You did that even earlier. E sent me a video at the beginning of February depicting your new (and fairly prodigious) skill, which means you were able to recognize yourself even before that.

I know, it’s a small feat, but I get incredibly excited over the little things you learn to do. You could learn the word “garbage” and I’d squeal about it for days, telling everyone I know. I know it’s silly, but I can’t help it. I just get so proud of you! I know a majority of your smarts comes from having wonderful parents who give you books and educational games and sit with you for hours on end while you learn the alphabet. I’m sure it also comes from having a brother who loves to teach you things. But there’s a little part of me that likes to think maybe it’s just your stellar genetics (I graduated high school with highest honors, and have been on the Dean’s List every semester of college. Just saying). Maybe mama had a little something to do with it ;)

Also, you’re insanely adorable when you learn to do new things, which is also partly the reason why I brag so much – you’re just so cute and you make me so happy, I figure I should spread the joy. Kind of like this :)

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Daddy Dearest

28 Mar

On your first birthday, I got you a present, but I actually wrote cards to J and E. Well…they weren’t so much cards as they were letters. And maybe they weren’t so much letters as they were small novels. But either way, your first birthday was kind of like our first birthday as a family. I had chosen them and met them months before you showed up, but our families didn’t truly become one until that beautiful summer day.

Of course, J and I like to write each other all the time, and the birthday letter I wrote her was no small feat. She even wrote me one back that birthday weekend. But today, I kept thinking about the letter I wrote E.

The letter I wrote E was actually partially about my own father, Pop-pop 3. I’ll tell you all about growing up with Pop-Pop 3 one day – there’s just too much love and too much fun to fit it all in a couple of letters. He was, and continues to be, an amazing father to me. He was “the best-of-the-best” when it came to dads, as I told E. And though a lot of that is due to his constant support and constant pride and constant reminders that I am loved by him, that “best-of-the-best” title is also due to the little things.

Pop-pop 3 and I played ball all the time. Before we had a basketball goal in the driveway, he would empty out the garage and use our giant trash can as the “goal.” He would throw me pop-flies in the yard when we played baseball. He taught me how to throw a spiral football. He would play with me until it got too dark to see outside, and only then would we go back inside. He would take me out for ice cream every Wednesday in middle school, and then he’d hang out with me in the local library until I had dance class. He did a million little things for me, but they meant the most. They still do. Only now instead of ice cream, we go out for coffee. Instead of playing ball with me, he’ll change my oil or quietly help me do laundry when I’m deeply absorbed in my homework and not paying attention. Like I said…little things.

I’ve always known that he loves me to the ends of the earth. “To infinity and beyond” as we always say (thank you, Buzz Lightyear). And my dad actually had a big influence on your adoption. I wanted you to have a dad like mine. I wanted your childhood to be everything mine was – filled with love and little things. And though I would have absolutely given those things to you – pop-flies, football until dark, ice cream Wednesdays – I wanted you to do those things with a dad, too. I wanted you to have a dad who does the small things, who never lets you forget that he loves you, whose love is obvious, even when he’s not saying it out loud.

E is that dad. Just like Pop-pop 3, he loves doing those little things. I saw that even before you were born, in the way he was with Sports Man. I saw in the pictures of him goofing around with Sports Man. I saw it in the way he showed off videos of how Sports Man could read and play basketball. It is no different with you. He loves playing the same games with you over and over, no matter silly they are. He loves playing ball outside. When you were just a month old, he already had the tradition of getting up with you, feeding you and then holding you while he drank coffee on the porch.

No one has ever reminded me of my own father as much as E does, and it’s beyond heartwarming. As my letter said, every time I see the two of you together, my hearts swells so much, I swear it could burst. He doesn’t even need to tell me how much he loves you. I can see it in the small things, sometimes just in the way he looks at you. Just like Pop-pop 3. And just like me, I’m pretty sure your first word was “da-da.”

As I’m sure you already know, your laugh is famous, and it’s also one of my favorite sounds in the whole wide world. As a matter of fact, quite a few of my favorite videos of you have you laughing in them. This one is of you and E, and it’s the first time I ever heard you laugh, which is why I treasure it so much. And of course, who was the first person I ever saw with ability to make you laugh? E.

You and I are quite the pair of lucky ones to have the dads that we do. When you’re finally old enough to read this, give E a hug when you’re done. Until then, I’ll give him twice as many hugs for the both of us :)

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The Best Five Percent

27 Mar

I talked about you in class today. We were talking about teenage pregnancy and I was floored when it was revealed to me that only 5% of pregnant teenagers choose adoption. Of course, I of all people know how incredibly difficult it is to go through with it, but the small number was still surprising to me.

I piped in with my experience. How I discovered I was pregnant at 18 years old. How I had you when I was 19. How I chose open adoption and it was one of the best decisions I ever made, for the both of us. It was tough, yes. Beyond words. Even knowing how great The B’s were, it still took enormous effort not to make a mad dash to the adoption agency and demand to have you back during those 10 days that it was possible. But by the strength of what could only have been God, I was able to keep our lives – yours and mine – in perspective. To know that yours would be better off in family that could solidly provide for you in every way possible, and that mine wouldn’t end if I let you go to them. I’m still searching for the words to describe the chaos that overtook my mind and heart during those days.

It is for this reason, that I refuse to judge the other 95% of pregnant teenagers. No one can describe how unbelievably in love a mother is with her child – what it feels like to know that another life will exist because you do, what it is like to feel you kick, what it is like to see your face for the first time, to hold you for the first time, to be blissfully content just to watch you sleep. Mothers have a unique experience with their children, different from any other person who is close to them during their pregnancy. They have unique perspective and therefore a very unique love for their children. We’ve been as close to you as humanly possible – you were a part of us.

So sometimes, it just takes another mother to understand exactly what feelings of love and devotion I’m talking about. They may be teenagers, but despite whether or not they should be, they are moms, and I would like to assume that they are just as madly in love with their babies as I was – and am – with you. I would say that it’s impossible for anyone to love you as much as I do because I just love you so much, but The B’s do. I am sure of it. I can’t deny that, nor would I ever, ever want to. My love for you is simply unique. You were a part of me.

I came to the conclusion that maybe the low percentage is just because open adoption just isn’t that well-known yet. People don’t know how lucky they can get, or how happy they can be, and if they did – if it was possible to find a way to measure or encompass how blissfully happy I am to have you and The B’s in my life – that percentage would skyrocket. Open adoption is a beautiful thing, and J and I are doing what we can to get the word out about it. We have all gotten so lucky in having you and finding each other through you, and happiness like that is a thing you want to share. I want pregnant teenage girls to know that there are options. I want potential adoptive parents to have a child to give all of their love to, because they truly have so much of it to give. I want people to know that they can create extended families like ours; that one tiny, perfect person can create an entire network of love. And you are my inspiration for all of that. You are my inspiration for everything.

Just about the time that we are discussing the low adoption rate in class and all of this is running through my head, I get a notification that J has posted pictures of me. They are pictures of you and I during your last visit. Since they are pictures taken by J, they are beautiful, stunning. And since you are the subject, they seem almost ethereal. I’ve been looking through them ever since, unable to get enough of them because I love seeing myself with you. And as I look at these pictures, I remember running around and playing with you as she took them, and I’m so happy I could burst.

I believe those teenage mothers who raise their children no matter what their situation have a unique and beautiful kind of strength. But your mommy dearest is in the minority – I am one person out of the many that make up 5% of teenage girls who felt as though they could give their children something better, something more than themselves. Five percent of us who were strong enough and trusting enough to follow through. And that is what I did. But in following through, I got something more and something better out of it. I got my B’s, and we all got you. And that right there makes this the best 5% of anything I’ve ever been a part of :)

Photos by J

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The NCAA Tournament and a Happy Realization

26 Mar

Last night, I went to one of the local sports bars in my college town, and I watched UNC lose to Kansas in the 2012 NCAA tournament, 80 – 67. Your Aunt S and I got to the bar just after the second half had started and we watched anxiously until the end of the game.

I went to UNC for a little while when I first started college. I worked my entire high school career to get into it and when I got there, I just wasn’t b big fan of the place ironically enough. I still think that it is a great school and I think that anyone who makes it in deserves a round of applause (it’s competitive as I’m sure many people will tell you). I was just in the market for a smaller school which is how I ended up at the wonderful college I’m at now. But even though I switched schools, I’m still a Carolina fan at heart.

However, I realized that last night, as I watched the game that would make the Final Four, I wasn’t cheering for UNC because I was really concerned for my first alma mater. I was concerned for Sports Man.

Sports Man is a huge for of UNC. He loves them. Carolina has been his favorite college team since I’ve known him; it was actually one of the first things I realized I had in common with him. I have no doubt you’ll grow up to be a Carolina fan too – not just because it’s in the family, but because Sports Man won’t have it any other way.

Personally, I love sports. I used to play them a lot when I was younger, but I gave them up when I got braces (I got hit in the mouth one too many times and Pop-Pop 3 requested that I find a different hobby). After that, I took up ballet, and by the time the braces came off, my talent for sports had waned and I was really into dance, so I never picked them back up. I still love to watch though – NFL football is my favorite, followed by college basketball. I have no doubt that whatever sport you end up liking or playing will become my new favorite.

But I’ve also come to realize that whatever sport Sports Man likes or plays will be a favorite of mine too. Of course, his liking of sports is kind of all-encompassing so I should probably narrow that down. But the point is that I have truly come to care for him as I do for you. I love him. I actually see him as a little brother, which was not a connection I expected to make when I joined The B’s family.

I didn’t know how to see him at first – I knew he wouldn’t be like a second son or anything (although when I tell people you have an older brother who is eight, they tend to look at me like, “How young were you when you started having kids?!”) But the more I got to know Sports Man, the more I realized I cared about him as if he were my brother as well as yours. Of course, I absolutely love him for loving you, but I love him for being him, too. I find myself rather protective over him actually. Like when my heart skips a beat if I see him pegged in the head with a football. Or like when I’m desperately cheering for a basketball team only because I know he would be devastated if they lost.

I keep getting more and more out of my relationship with The B’s – more that I ever could have possibly imagined. I couldn’t be happier that open adoption was an option for me because I couldn’t have had it any other way. I need you in my life too much. But I’m even happier that it’s turned out so positively – just when I think I’ve gotten more out of our situation than I’d ever dreamed, another wonderful thing pops up. Like a little brother. And maybe instead of just gaining a little brother, Sports Man also gained an older sister.

Thank you again for bringing us together. We all love you more than words can say for that, and many other things. And don’t worry – when UNC lost last night, Sports Man wasn’t even watching the game. Apparently he was so worked up and upset mid-game about the bad calls and the bad playing that they turned the TV off before it was even over. I’m pulling for Ohio State to win this year anyways.

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Music for the Little Man Soul

24 Mar

I knew before I even got pregnant that there was one thing I wanted to do when I did get pregnant one day. I saw a television commercial – I have no idea what it was actually advertising – but it showed a pregnant woman sitting on the floor with her back against the wall, listening to a CD player. Then she took the headphones off of her ears and put the earpieces on either side of her very pregnant stomach.

I fell in love with the image. I knew that when I was pregnant, I was going to do the same thing. Maybe if I serenaded my baby with my favorite music, they would grow up with the same taste in music as me. Grandma M says it’s not true. She says she listened to smooth jazz the whole time she was pregnant with me, and I can’t stand the stuff.

So when I did get pregnant, albeit a little earlier than expected, I knew what I was going to do when my stomach got big enough. I didn’t really start showing until I was about halfway through my pregnancy and I didn’t truly get my stomach until about seven months, but when I finally got it, I broke out the headphones.

My headphones are hilarious, just so you know. I bought them at Target in high school, thinking I was “trendy” for not having the ever-popular ear buds. When I brought my Target headphones home and opened them, I realized that the cord on them was about 10 feet long, no joke. I could plug them into my iPod at the bottom of the stairs, put them on my head, walk to the top of the stairs and still have plenty of leeway to move around without moving the iPod at all. Needless to say, I stuck with my ear buds after that.

But for you, I pulled the headphones out of storage and prepared to introduce you to my favorites of the musical world. Now, I don’t really have favorite bands or artists. I will have multiple songs by the same group so I guess I technically do have favorites, but I have a lot of them, and they change regularly. I get my music from everywhere – tv shows, commercials, movie trailers, my friend’s iPods, songs I hear over the intercom in a store or a coffee shop…they say variety is the spice of life, and my iPod can prove it.

But I made what I called my Baby Playlist – my favorites, a little of everything. I made sure none of them had swear words, just in case (the mom gene was bound to kick in sometime). I even put some classical music on there since I’d heard a lot about psychological studies between classical music, kids and intelligence or attention span or something. Who knows?  Claire de Lune by Debussy is an all time favorite of mine so it was inescapable anyways.

So one lazy day, I laid down on the futon which had become my bed (I was too big to be comfortable in my tiny twin bed), plugged in my headphones, placed them around my stomach, and started the playlist. I thought about the woman in the commercial and smiled. I can’t quite find the words to describe why I think it is beautiful, but I felt so happy and calm with my growing pregnant belly, thinking about the little boy inside it. The recognition that I was pregnant washed over me again, as it often did. I loved you. Amidst all of the decisions I knew I would have to make soon, I was happy in that moment with you.

And then you started kicking the headphones. You always rolled around when I laid down – I think it disoriented you, so you would always have to readjust. But then you kept moving. You kept kicking. It never hurt when you did – occasionally you’d kick my bladder or you’d lean a little too far to the left or right and my stomach would feel uncomfortably tight, but no more discomfort than that. I loved it when you kicked.

But just in case, I changed the song. You kept kicking or readjusting or whatever it was that you were doing. I started laughing. I changed the song again, to see if maybe you were just moving to the beat. I couldn’t tell – you were just a little kicking machine. You had good aim too, right for the earpieces. I took the headphones off. After you realized the noise was gone, you calmed down again. A few minutes later I put them on and the kicking started right back up.

You hated those headphones. I suppose it could have been an aversion to my taste in music, but personally, I think I have excellent taste so that couldn’t possibly be it. Actually, the more I think about it, the more I like to think that you were just dancing.

Your musical education has been taken over by E (he has great taste, don’t worry), and I’m sure C will do what he can to influence it too. I don’t mind. I figure musical education is something that should be taken on by the musicians of the family anyways. You can be sure they’ll do a good job :)

But just so you know, here is another one of my favorites. I never really understood the lyrics until I had you – I thought it was a love song. After you were born, I realized it was…just not in the way I had originally thought. No song has ever really described how I feel about you the way this one does. It is a perfect description of my feelings for you. So despite the fact you are apparently not a fan of my musical taste, give this one a listen whenever you have time: Lullaby by the Dixie Chicks. I love you, baby boy :)

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Team Effort: The Boys of The B’s

23 Mar

There are times when you are just so cute, I can hardly stand it. You’ll say something new or do something funny or sweet and I literally won’t know what to do with myself other than break into a huge smile, squeal like a little girl and then tell everyone I know. If there is anyone in the world with the power to make me smile no matter what my mood is, it’s you.

Whenever I’m down, I just go through the many videos I have on you – ones I’ve taken myself, ones I’ve gotten from E, ones J has put on Facebook – and I find myself laughing and happy again. It’s times like that when I feel like I love you so much, it might not be containable. I think it’s the one and only time a heart could explode and it could be a good thing.

Well I found myself laughing and happy this morning when I woke up and checked my e-mails to find that I had received a couple of new videos from E. Apparently, Sports Man took it upon himself to teach you your first shape: the triangle. You seemed to pick up on it pretty fast – you call it a “tangle,” and E had the wonderful presence of mind to capture it on video. It’s adorable. I did my squealing-like-a-little-girl thing this morning and I’m still wearing a huge smile because of it. Now comes the part where I tell everyone I know. Or should I say, show everyone I know.

A big thank you to The Boys of The B’s – you for being you, Sports Man for being a wonderful teacher and E for sharing these fantastic, tiny moments of your life with me. You guys make quite the team :)

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Lucky Number Twenty

22 Mar

Happy 20 month birthday Little Man! Twenty months ago today you were only about seven hours away from making your debut into the world.  It doesn’t even sound that far away when I say it – only 20 months ago. Crazy, right?

However, I only have for months before I officially have to start calling you a “two-year-old” – I’ve been putting it off for a while. I keep calling you “one-and-a-half” or “20 months,” avoiding the age of two for as long as I possibly can. Sadly, it’s becoming unavoidable. Also, sometimes it’s just easier to say, “My son is almost two” rather than any month-type calculation.

I have celebrated every “month birthday” you’ve had since you were born. Through your entire first year especially – three months, six months, eleven months and all the months in between and after. I marked all of them in my calendar and when they came around, I would call my parents, post it on Facebook and tell all my friends. I was always super proud when you hit a month milestone – partially because it was mind-blowing that you were that big already and partially because I love bringing you up in conversation for any reason I can.

However, I sense that I am coming to the end of that era. Once your kid hits two-years-old, it becomes a little awkward to say, “Oh, my child is 30 months old today!” So I guess I’ll have to get over my aversion to the fact that you’re growing up and start officially calling you my two-year-old. It has a nice ring to it, so I’m sure it won’t be that tough. I still think of you on the 22nd of every month, and I’m sure I always will. That number will always be inextricably linked with you for the rest of my forever.

But I hope you have a wonderful 20 month birthday doing fun 20 month old things. Maybe E can take you for a ride on the “at-too” or something :) I love you!

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Facebook + E-mail = A Lifetime of Love

21 Mar

J posted this picture today and I immediately fell in love with it. People can say what they like about technology and how it’s taking over or how it’s bad for us, but I’m loving it because I can get on my computer and find things like this. I honestly don’t think I can convey how in love I am with this picture. So much is contained in it – how happy you look, how much Sports Man loves you, what it has truly done for you to have a brother…it’s beautiful to me. Like I said – what makes you happy makes me happy.

I know that I’ve told you multiple times that J always sends me pictures and E always sends me videos, but it means so much to me that they do. Even if it’s on Facebook for all of our friends to see or sent to me in a private e-mail, I just love getting so see or hear about what you’re up to. They update me constantly with the goings on of your life. It’s even better because I know they don’t do it because they feel obligated – they do it because they want to share your life with me. They want me to watch you grow up and do cute things. Even if it’s not entirely about you, I just like hearing from them period. I feel so blessed to have become such good friends with the family I chose. A family that I consider my family now.

I remember being so worried, when I was pregnant and considering adoption, that I would miss so much. Your first steps, first words, all of the other adorable things babies do when they’re growing up…I was so afraid I would miss them all or hear about them way after the fact. Happily, I got very lucky with The B’s. I see you so often I don’t feel like I miss anything. And when I’m not around, I get pictures and videos and text messages and e-mails. I don’t feel like I’ve missed a thing and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I think that’s a good tip for potential or actual adoptive parents who have relationships with the birth mother: the smallest things about you – what you’re doing, the things you like, silly things you do – are things that’d we’d love to see or hear about. A picture here and there, a small update on how your favorite food has changed from grilled cheese to hot dogs, anything at all…just knowing about it or seeing it can make our day. All birth mothers love their children – it’s why we choose adoption. I understand that it may be more difficult for some to deal with than others, and without The B’s, I know it would have been even more difficult for me. They have made adoption so much easier than it could have been. They have made it so easy for me to show you how much I love you, and for that, I owe them everything.

I’ve decided I’m just going to love them forever. Hopefully a lifetime of friendship and caring and love will be a good place to start :)

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