I can’t believe my visit with my daughter on the 11th has already come and gone. I don’t know how it’s possible. Those two and a half hours went so fast. It’s like that time was just gone in the blink of an eye.
She didn’t want anything to do with us on the “hike”, but then clung to us during lunch and at the playground. She would shy away from birthdad’s camera like the plague, but she constantly wanted me to take pictures of her with my phone. And I got some really good ones (see gallery).
She’s always pretty quiet in the beginning, but this seemed more than normal. I don’t know, maybe I’m crazy. Maybe it’s hard to tell when it’s been six months.
I had been talking to some friends in the adoption community a couple weeks earlier, and I mentioned out I’d been upset over feeling like I had no say in deciding what my daughter would call me and I didn’t like it. Looking back when talking with an adoptive mama on Instagram, I got caught up in the discussion and was overthinking our relationship. When it comes down to it, my daughter knows I’m birthmom and that’s what’s important. When she grows up, she can decide for herself what she wants to call me.
Nothing much has really happened between then and now. I was dogsitting the whole time.
Placement anniversary was this past Saturday though. I posted something on my Instagram stories about the day.
Watching birthdad hand her to adoptive dad with those words was heartwrenching. I mean, those words are so just so so heavy. And it’s been seared into my memory.
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