One year ago, I was clinging to the hope that I would become the mother I so desperately knew I already was. I didn't know what it felt like to have my arms ache so badly after a mere trip around the grocery store. I had never gone without sleep for longer than a few all-nighters during finals. I still held onto the notion that I could never love anyone the way I loved my dog. I was praying for strength for myself and my family. And at this time last year, I was also praying fervently for the first mother my daughter had. Then and now, I believed wholeheartedly in her ability to parent and raise this daughter of ours. I would step in and do my best if she called me, but I had hope for her, too. If she changed her mind, it wouldn't be a tragedy for that little girl. 48 hours after her birth, Amelia's first mother, who wrote OUR last name on the birth certificate, signed a paper saying we were her parents. Forever. She made the bravest choice and a loving decision for her