Six Months

When I think about the fact that, as of today, I've been a mother for six months, I feel surprised. Such a short period of time, and yet it contains a lengthy list of changes. I was a mom long before I ever had a child that shared my last name. So is every other woman who longs for a child but cannot or has not been able to have one. It seems as if there is no way someone that was so recently a teeny tiny bundle of cells could change my life so completely in only half a year. But she did. 

And now, here we are, preparing for another baby to arrive by Christmas. I know the general opinion on a pregnancy after adoption is that we should be overjoyed at such a miracle. Don't get me wrong- WE ARE. But, I made peace with my infertility diagnosis. When Millie was born, my need to conceive a child of my own evaporated. I saw her as my own daughter, no different than if I had given birth to her myself, and it didn't matter that she didn't share mine or Eric's physical features. She knew me instantly, and I knew her. 

We were meant to be each other's family. Adoption taught us that you don't need to be blood related to belong together. Giving birth to the next member of Birnbaums doesn't make us any more of a family than we already are. It grows our family in a way we never thought possible, and it gives our Millie a new sibling that she gets to guide and torture. I must admit that after seeing how friendly she is towards everyone, including other babies, and her level of awareness of others, a tiny part of me had been hoping for another baby sooner rather than later so Millie could enjoy a playmate. 

I keep telling Chloe this was so much easier when she did it (meaning I hate barfing and I do not have the long, lean frame that C has to pull off any extra middle area weight). The truth is, there are parts of being pregnant that are easier and parts that are more difficult. It's definitely less stressful this time around because we consider ourselves seasoned baby pros. The look of wonder on my husband's face when he asked the doctor at what point after delivery do we get permission to see the baby and she told him he wouldn't need permission was hilarious. We are such adoptive parents. We're like, "and when is relinquishment signed?" and the nurses look at us like we are crazy. Our version of taking a baby home from the hospital is a little bit different. I don't have to cringe and hold my breath as Chloe gets blood drawn or suffers from sleepless nights and anxiety. Then there's the tiny sigh of selfish relief that, this time around, no one has to hurt for us to be parents. There is no birth family trying their very best to be supportive and understanding while processing their own grief and disappointment. I don't have to worry about breaking the heart of this precious friend of mine.

But there's also disappointment on my end. There will be no long lunches with Chloe after doctor's appointments, no finding excuses to come over to her apartment so I could love on her, her boyfriend, and their dog. She will not grab my hand to show me where the baby is kicking and I will not hold back tears in my car when she does it. Moments where I glance at her across my dinner table with wonder and awe over how incredibly beautiful, bright, and strong she is will still occur, but they won't be twinged with longing for this time together to never end. She won't be the ghost that haunts our house, lit by the glow of her iPhone, keeping me company during the day. I will not spend four months talking through every aspect of how we want the next 18+ years to go with her. In a lot of ways, Eric and I will be alone in this. Sharing Millie's existence with another family makes me feel more accountable and responsible for her. Who do I answer to with a child entrusted to me by God alone? God? That's even more pressure!

There IS freedom in this pregnancy. We have a good track record with keeping children safe right now. Millie hasn't fallen off of anything, and she's never waited longer than it takes to flush the toilet for us to return to her side. She is a contented baby, and that part is influenced by Eric and I, not genetics (although we were given pretty great DNA to work with). We have confidence that we can raise another one and continue to do a good job with Millie. We won't be perfect, and the TV absolutely tunes to BabyFirst when we need it in or house, but we will survive. We'll cherish the next six months, and every month after that. 

Before Amelia Louise came into my life, I was still the same me that I am today. The two biggest differences, both of which are manageable, are the dark circles under my eyes and my priorities. The cure for those are Nerium and self reflection, respectively. Mind over matter has been my mantra since day one of those sleepless nights. The little girl in her bassinet/pack n play/crib has needed me more than I've needed sleep, sustenance, or sanity. She is so worth it. She has prepared me for every change a new baby brings and opened my eyes to the true beauty of sacrificing yourself for another person. It's such a thrill and a blessing to watch her grow. Whether it be grabbing her feet, sitting up, eating exotic Hawaiian solid foods, sleeping through every airplane flight, smiling, cutting her first tooth, or rolling over both ways, Millie continues to amaze me. She is our miracle. I can't wait for the next one.