Christmas time is here

Well, it’s not the picture I had in my head but it’s still pretty darn good. Better, even.

No, when I was a girl, teenager, or young woman, my picture of my future included a handsome husband, two adorable moppets who were the exact synthesis of the best of the both of us, a beautiful Christmas tree covered with family-made and heirloom ornaments, and lots and lots and lots of Christmas lights. The real meaning of Christmas would be celebrated with reverence and little regard for commercialism.

I’ve got that handsome husband, but all the rest is different. One adorable (when she’s not making me crazy) African American/Eritrean/Caucasian moppet who looks nothing like Mr. Handsome or me, plus three other babies who are not ours but are still ours, a pewter menorah with a full compliment of candles, and not a decorated tree or twinkly light in sight.

No, it’s not the picture I had, my fantasy future. Instead, I have a wonderful reality with a husband who loves me and whom I love, a daughter we adore, and a season filled with family, tradition, and, most of all, love. What more could I hope for? Not a single thing.

Oh shit.

BabyGirl and I were at a birthday party yesterday. In the din of the 5-year olds dancing to traditional music from India, another mom pulled me aside. I like this woman. I've known her since infant Gymboree. She's a nurse-midwife, aka, the BabyCatcher.

A client of hers had been in the process of adopting an infant who, coincidentally, the BabyCatcher happened to deliver a few months ago. The potential birthmom also had a 10-month old at the time. NewBaby goes home with the potential aparents, everything looks like it's following the plan. Birthmom asks aparents if they'd want to adopt the older child, too. They hesitate, but don't say no. Birthmom says never-mind and reclaims NewBaby shortly before her consent hearing leaving the devastated aparents wondering what the hell happened and vowing to never try open domestic adoption again but rather go international instead, because there's no chance for a change of plan.

Now, mind you, I'll always be the first to protect a woman's right to choose to parent, I'll always be the first to stand up for truly ethical open adoptions. This is in no way a rant or screed against potential birthmoms who change their minds--for whatever reason. I whole heartedly believe that unless a woman comes to the decision without coercion or pressure, the adoption shouldn't happen. Even if the change happens at the last minute, like ours.

This isn't about that situation, it's about what the BabyCatcher said next:
Would you and Mr. Handsome consider them, now 4- and 14-months old, since the mom is still talking about adoption?

Immediately, a whole list of questions come to mind. How much real and helpful counseling has this woman received? There must have been something that was causing her to hesitate about continuing with the adoption plan in the first place, was it an uncomfortable relationship with the prospective aparents, some look they gave each other? Were they starting to exclude and marginalize her already? Was it because she really wants to be the mommy and shouldn't make an adoption plan at all? Was it because she needed a way to call the whole thing off without feeling too guilty for putting them through the pain of losing the baby they started to bond with? Afterall, it's got to be easier to be angry at someone than to feel guilty? (Hey, that last one is just me, I'd like to think that moms have some compassion for devistated, shell-shocked, and heart-broken prospective aparents after a change of plan.)

And not to ignore the issues that we still have at our house! I'm almost done selling all the baby stuff (to the tune of nearly $500 so far, thankyouverymuch). Do we want to get back into the baby business again--and with two of them? I just started a consulting business and landed my first paying client. Could we put BabyGirl through all that again; heck, she still calls AJ her brother and mourns losing him. Could we somehow manage to not take the babies until parental rights are terminated and still make ethical choices and decisions that we could explain with integrity to them? (Throw in something about having cake and eating it.)

I almost wish the BabyCatcher never asked. It's too hard to have to go through these decisions again. We're out of the pool and we're ok with that, sad but ok. But I still miss babies and I'd always wanted more than one...

Am I really ready to be done expanding our family?

Thanksgiving--the good part

Putting on a traditional dinner this year seemed too overwhelming to me. So I didn't. Instead, we ordered up six pizzas, made a big salad, and had pie for dessert. One of the beauties of this plan is that we could invite lots more people, spend lots less money, and I could actually enjoy it rather than be exhausted.

Ever since BabyGirl came home, I've always had this dream of a huge Thanksgiving dinner with our family--all of it--around the table. Invitations have been made; her first families never showed. This year, I didn't have the heart to deal with BabyGirl's disappointment since her first mom was a no-show at a special school day just a few days earlier.

With the switch to the pizza idea, I felt a little better about trying one more time. We issued invitations and didn’t let BabyGirl know.

And a miracle happened:

FirstDad came. We got some time to show off school work and for them to have some quiet together. FirstMom, her dad, and his girlfriend came. And FirstMom’s boyfriend, too. It was a little awkward for FirstMom and FirstDad to be together again, but they did it for BabyGirl.

And BabyGirl got to sit on the sofa between them, all snuggled in, and getting loved up.

And one of my grandest dreams came true. I am so grateful to them, for so many reasons.

November 7

Go vote. All the cool kids are doing it.

My Rapist

Every week in the New York Times Sunday Magazine, there’s a short piece for the Lives section. On 10/29, the piece was "My Rapist" by Maureen Gibbon. In short, the protagonist deals with the emotional fall-out of reading the engagement announcement of the man who raped her when she was 16. About half-way through, she writes:

After I left at 17, I never lived in my hometown again. When I
returned for short visits, I rarely left my parents’ house. I felt
as uncomfortable and vulnerable as I did when I was 16. But
that was another gift my rapist bestowed—agelessness.
Because I think so frequently of that night in April 1980, my
teenaged self is still strong inside me. Because of my rapist,
I’m forever young.

My daughter’s birthmother, Mitzie, was 16 when she became pregnant, 17 when my daughter was born. We saw Mitzie a lot when BabyGirl was really a baby, before she and Ramone broke up. We haven’t seen her much at all in the last couple of years despite repeated invitations and close proximity.

In an effort to understand her journey more, I emailed a blogging birthmom looking for insight. This blogging birthmom is being effectively shut out of her son’s life by his parents, while we feel like we’re being shut out by our daughter’s first mother. Anyway, she suggested that perhaps Mitzie is kind of stuck in her late teenage-hood, even though she’s nearly 23.

And that got me thinking how much like a rape losing one’s child to adoption might be. There isn’t really a choice in either situation, both are events that stays with the victim for her lifetime, both result in the woman losing a part of her soul.

Yeah, yeah, we all like to say that adoption is a choice. But was it really a choice for her, for them? I’m confident that our agency counsels pregnant women and couples well because Mitzie told me how they had her go to the store to price diapers, formula, clothes, and all the gear babies require. They helped her work out a budget. They helped her sign up for all the assistance programs for which she was eligible and to get a part-time job so she could finish school. They helped her work out a way to ask her mother to help raise BabyGirl, they even helped her to ask Ramone’s mother for help. They explored all the options and angles to make it possible for Mitzie and Ramone to be the mommy and daddy, and I’m grateful the agency made them go through those steps.

But was adoption really a choice for them? They didn’t have any family support—emotional or financial—for raising her, their two part-time jobs and public assistance wouldn’t cover the bills, both families said they’d have to find new places to live. To choose means to select from a number of possibilities; pick by preference. They didn’t have the luxury of a real choice, the decision they made was not their preference. They didn’t choose to make an adoption plan for BabyGirl, they just didn’t have any choice not to.

…Because I think so frequently of that [morning] in April
[2001], my teenaged self is still strong inside of me.
Because of [losing] my [daughter to adoption], I’m forever young.

And sometimes maybe being young means blowing off dates, not returning phone calls, and ignoring the letters. We desperately hope she’ll come back around sooner rather than later. But how hard it must be to look into the faces of the ones who have the one thing she’s always wanted: a family with her daughter.

And how do I explain this to a five-year old who wants to know why Mitzie never comes to see her?

Love, love, love that kid

1. She's learning to read and write in kindergarten and loving it.

2. Sometimes, I just grab her up and smooch all over her face and tell her that I'm squeezing in so much love she'll never, never be able to forget how much she's loved.

3. Last week, BabyGirl was busy on a secret project and, at dinner, presented me with this beautiful card:

I love you
too much
to forget
Love Lea xoxoxox

This is a tricky grief.

I don't know how to do this one.

How do I grieve the loss of a son who was never really mine, but who still holds a place deep in my heart? How do I grieve for someone who isn't dead? Will I ever stop looking into the face of every little boy his age trying to see his big brown eyes and his light-up-the-room smile? Will I ever stop feeling his heaviness on my shoulder when he was asleep? Will it ever stop ripping my heart out when BabyGirl asks when the next baby is going to come stay with us, even though she knows we're out of the adoption pool?

Our family of Three (Seven, really), parts 1 and 2

Before BabyGirl became our daughter, we'd had another placement. It was pretty much a no-brainer that this situation wasn't going to last. The 19-year old mom had been living with his 32-year old father since before they conceived him. Her teenaged heart had her life with their child all planned out and it was a nice vision. At her 8-month medical exam, she learned that she had an STD then subsequently learned that it was from her boyfriend who'd been tomcatting around and, by the way, he already had a child for whom an adoption plan was made. She freaked, broke up with him, moved home, and essentially decided that if the baby wasn't around, she could just forget the whole thing. He was with us for four days. We'd named him Langston to honor Mr. Handsome's Uncle Lou and for my favorite poet, Langston Hughes. Now he's Deon and growing up in the next town over.

Four months later, BabyGirl was born. She stayed, and we're family forever and ever. Amen.

I'm selling all the old baby stuff.

Our AJ is never going to come back to us.

He's some other little boy now, at 18-months old.

I wonder if this pain will ever end.

I listened to the terrific radio show This American Life, hosted by Ira Glass from WBEZ in Chicago, last weekend and found myself in tears, pained, and very afraid. The show itself was about unconditional love and featured two stories about parents and their children. One story was about a child who was adopted from a Romanian orphanage at age 7 and came home with severe attachment disorder, among other things; the other was about a family with twin sons, one of whom who has severe autism, and the parents' struggle over that child's institutionalization.

Ok, what got me, though, was the introduction to the show. Here's a portion of the blurb from the show website:

Hard as it is to believe, during the 30's and 40's
a whole school of mental health professionals
decided that unconditional love was a terrible
thing to give a child. The government printed
pamphlets, warning mothers against the dangers
of holding their kids, and even a mothers'
organization endorsed the position that mothers
were dangerous – until psychologist Harry Harlow
did a series of experiments with monkeys that
proved the whole idea was insane.

What Harlow did was to take brand new baby monkeys away from their mothers and put them in cages with substitutes. Some were metal mesh cylinders with bottles of food, some were covered with soft fabric and no food. He was testing the prevailing theory that attachment comes from feeding so if that's all there is to it, the baby monkeys would hang with the food-mommies and not the cozy-mommies. Nope, they'd spend almost all of their time with the cozy-mommies, and leave only to eat or explore. If the cozy-mommies were removed, the baby monkeys were anxious and didn't play; if the cozy-mommies were there, the baby monkeys were confident and soothed. Ok, cozy trumps food. No surprise (anymore) there.

Then he upped the ante. He made the evil-mommies. Mommies that shocked the babies, mommies that were spiked to poke into the babies and make them jump off, mommies that had really scarey faces. And here's the part that stabbed me in the heart: Those little baby monkeys returned over and over again to be shocked or poked or scared over and over again; they cooed, they cajoled, they did everything our precious little human babies do when they're trying to get our attention. They did everything they could think of to try to fix the broken relationship with their mommy-figures.

And what does this have to do with me and my family? We haven't seen BabyGirls's birthmother but twice in the last three years despite repeated plans (she's a no-show), emails, phone calls. She lives only a few miles away.

My fear--my gut-wrenching, reduce me to a quivering mass of mommahood fear--is that my beautiful baby will internalize that broken relationship and do everything she can think of to fix it. Does that mean my baby might be more likely to try to identify with her birthmom by also getting pregnant at 16? Might she be more likely to make spectacularly bad choices when it comes to schooling and men (aside from BabyGirl's birthfather who is a gem amongst men) to be a little more like her birthmom? Can I love BabyGirl unconditionally enough, support her enough, to help her through her teenage-hood and come out the other side reasonably healthy and whole?

Love Thursday

I don't know who started this one but I like it so I'm going with it. Every Thursday, a post or photo that exemplifies love in all its many forms.

Here's BabyGirl and me at our fancy Going to Kindergarten lunch and tea with BestFriend and BabyBestFriend. We all wore dresses and ate salmon crepes, then tea and homemade vegan DingDongs afterwards. Lovely!

The Lunch Lady

Today's my first day as Lunch Lady at BabyGirl's school. I'm generally a pretty quiet person, I generally prefer quiet environments, and I generally prefer to be inside. So, of course, I had to sign up to be the Wednesday Lunch Lady because it made BabyGirl happy.

And what does this entail? Holding down the kid-induced chaos of two lunch periods (11:30-noon, noon-12:30) and outside play time with the entire school! Gee whiz, the things I'll do for that kid. The idea of all those little hooligans swirling around and yelling in the little lunch room, followed by outside time on this, our third rainy day in a row, is a little intimidating. But since I have BabyGirl convinced that I'm a Brave Momma, slayer of monsters and relocator of spiders, I'll go and find the joy in their abandon. Then I'll come home to my empty house and have a cup of tea in the silence.

Post Lunch Lady Update
What in the wide wide world of sports was I thinking? I'm sure I'll work into it but with the rain--that started the minute the little rugrats were supposed to go outside, mind you--it was an "inside recess" day. I was assigned to keep an eye on the kindergarten room into which about a zillion kids ran because the best toys are in there. One boy took off, then lost, his hearing aids (the better to not hear me, my Dears); a girl somehow managed to scrape her thigh and then hiked her pant leg up to her crotch to display the wound; a kindergarten boy wanted desperately to build stuff with the big guys but didn't know how to join them and had a little melt-down (hooray for the big guys who figured out the situation long before I did and invited him in); BabyGirl declared herself "the helper's helper" and didn't leave me. Ok, ok, I secretly dug the last part. It was good to see her in the middle of the day.

I was missing her so much yesterday that I got all teary at the grocery store yesterday when I saw a mom and her child tooling around the aisles while pushing the pint-sized kids' shopping cart. When the kid careened into my shopping cart, the mom apologized and I nearly burst into tears! She thought it was sweet.

Get this one from Dear Abby:

DEAR ABBY: Four years ago, during my freshman year in college, I gave birth
to a beautiful little boy. His father and I made the joint decision to place him
for adoption. Thankfully, his adopted family keeps me involved with his life by
sending me pictures and frequent updates. I have no regrets about my decision.

I am soon to be married to the most wonderful man on Earth. Recently,
during our premarital counseling, the question came up concerning how we would
tell our children about the son I had. After discussing this issue further, my
fiance and I agreed that we would like our children to know about their
half-brother from their earliest memory. Our problem is, we don't know how to
tell them in a way that will not upset them, confuse them or scare them. Any
suggestions? -- JESSICA IN SOUTH CAROLINA

DEAR JESSICA: I do not agree that your children should be told "from
their earliest memory" that they have a half-brother who was adopted by another
family. It will be easier for them to understand when they are older, and you
are talking with them about the facts of life and the consequences of
unprotected sex. They need to be able to engage in a dialogue with you about it
at a time when they can fully comprehend your honest answers. Please consider
what I have said.

Whaaaa? Did she just tell this woman that her son, her firstborn child, is a consequence??? Like a time out or getting grounded? Losing use of the car or no TV? I mean, here is a woman who made an adoption plan with the support of the baby's first father, who is in contact with her son, and stated right out that she has no regrets, looking for a little direction on how to maintain her integrity with her future children and ABBY TELLS HER THAT HER PRECIOUS CHILD IS A CONSEQUENCE? Is anyone else as annoyed as hell at this one? And that condescending "Please consider what I have said" at the end? Sheesh!

Boy, is this Abby woman out of touch. Should these future children never be told of relatives who live far away and may never meet them? Out of sight, out of mind?

A simple, "You're my second baby, but the first one to whom I'm the mommy" is a good opener followed by "I wanted to be able to give Junior all the things your daddy and I can give to you, but I was too young then and couldn't care for Junior as well as I wanted him cared for. Madge and Julio were ready to be parents so they adopted him and became his mommy and daddy. I'm ready to be a mommy now and nothing is going to change for you and me and Daddy." That's pretty much what we told our daughter and she's understood her story from her earliest memory without emotional scars or undue stress.

And shouldn't a child be taught the basics of "the facts of life" from their earliest memory, too? But it's equating her first child with a consequence that really pisses me off.


Here's my letter to Dear Abby:
Your response to Jessica in South Carolina, a birth mother who was looking for guidance on how to tell her future children about her first baby, was way off base, and, frankly, insulting.

To equate her child with a consequence akin to getting grounded, a time out, losing use of the family car--or, worse, as a cautionary tale--is downright wrong. Every child is a miracle, no matter how they arrived on the earth.

Understanding that their mother had a previous child for whom she made an adoption plan will never be "easier to understand" when they're older because the information will be sprung on them. The only way for it to become a simple fact of life is to know it from their earliest memory.

In normal conversation Jessica can say something like "You're my second baby, but the first one to whom I'm the mommy" is a good opener followed by "I wanted to be able to give Junior all the things your daddy and I can give to you, but I was too young then and couldn't care for Junior as well as I wanted him cared for. Madge and Julio were ready to be parents so they adopted him and became his mommy and daddy. I'm ready to be a mommy now and nothing is going to change for you and me and Daddy."

That's pretty much what we told our daughter whom we adopted and she's understood her story from her earliest memory without emotional scars or stress.

When a child knows something from his or her earliest memory, it's just normal; when a big piece of news is laid on them as a warning against sex (and you assumed that Jessica and the baby's father didn't use contraception when they could have become pregnant from contraception failure), it becomes a scandal.

As a mom-by-adoption in a very open adoption and after many years of studying and researching contemporary adoption related issues, I can say with some authority that you're just plain wrong on this one. Please consider what I said.

Write to her and let her know how you feel: http://www.uexpress.com/dearabby/dearabby_form.html

I didn't even THINK of this

Oh dear, with the onset of kindergarten in just a few short days, I have to begin packing a lunch for BabyGirl. Holy tomato! While I love to cook, I seem to have a hard time just getting dinner on the table for us, how am I going to get dinner on the table AND keep BabyGirl fed at school? Thankfully, a google search on "school lunches" and "brown bag lunch" gave me some ideas. Nonetheless, I'm hoping her brand-spankin' new pink and flowery insulated lunch bag with coordinated flowery Thermoses (Thermosi?) will be enough to keep her interested in eating. Fortunately, this is a short week and Thursdays are bagel day (with cream cheese and chicken noodle soup), so I have to come up with something for only three days.

This is not a child who eats quickly. No, she's practically forming her own branch of the Slow Food movement. There are days when both Mr.B and I have been finished with our dinner for upwards of a half hour and she's still poking away at it. We're at the point now what we just announce the end of dinner (after a count-down) and we get up from the table. Dessert is reserved only for Friday nights--to enhance the sweetness of Shabbat and to un-link the "how much do I have to eat to get dessert" issue.

Last week, Best Friend and I took our daughters to a tea and dessert to celebrate their kindergarten-hood. Best Friend had to get home by a particular time to relieve the babysitter, and she couldn't just leave since we'd all driven together. There was BabyGirl taking her own sweet time with her dessert (homemade vegan DingDongs). I finally said, with a wink, to just put large pieces in her mouth and swallow them whole to which she replied, also with a wink once her mouth was empty, "Hey, do you want to have a trip to the emergency room?" Best Friend and I just about fell out on that one. I'm going to miss that girl when she's at school for 6-hours a day.

Guess who's coming to breakfast


I sent an email to some important people letting them know a very auspicious event will occur on September 5: BabyGirl begins her new life as a kindergartener. I asked them to send a quick note to her to be read that morning letting her know how excited they are for her and that she's loved. Almost immediately, we got a phone call from her firstdad, who now lives in the South (we're in the Midwest) for engineering school. He booked a flight and will be home for her first day of school. How great is that? Wonderfully great.

This is a guy who loved school, who loves the girl he helped create, and has always been as involved as he could in her life. Had his life circumstances been different, he would have been a terrific dad to her; if he has more children in the future, they will be very blessed to have him. Anyhoo, we're just tickled to pieces that he'll be able to join us for breakfast that morning and will join us on the ride to school to see her off.

I was thinking of hosting a small champagne brunch for the other playgroup moms whose babies will also begin kindergarten that same day. I saw it in RealSimple magazine and I like champagne; it seems like a good way to celebrate/mourn our new status as moms of school-aged children.

Huh? What was that you said?


I knew it would happen one day, I just didn't expect it would happen at 5 years, 4 months, and 8 days.

BabyGirl woke up early in a pissy, hungry mood because she hadn't bothered to eat lunch or dinner yesterday. For whatever reason, there's not much else that gets me so pissy as a kid who doesn't eat then complains of hunger. Anyway, as I was saying, "put more eggs on your fork and eat them" for the millionth time, she hit me with it.

"I wish Firstmom and Firstdad were my parents."

Now, we have a very open adoption, we see them as frequently as we can, and they are very much in our lives even though we don't see them all the time. Before our daughter became our daughter, the agency had us talk about our fears about parenting by adoption. Hearing my teenager spit out those very words was the second thing on my list (right after a birthparent reclaiming their/our child before the consent hearing--something that happened 3 times).

I must say I responded well. I didn't get upset, I didn't hyperventilate, all I said was, "I'm sure they seem like much more fun right now, don't they?" and kept on reading my NYTimes. Most remarkably, it didn't even phase me! What do I think this means for me? I must be really confident that I'm her mommy, Mr. Handsome is her daddy, and that we're a family.

Aside from the crappy, pissy way the day started, it was a pretty nice way to start out her last day of daycamp.

Beautiful, beautiful book

I was just re-thumbing through one of my new favorite books, Soul Sanctuary: Images of the African American Worship Experience, by Jason Miccolo Johnson. It's wonderful.

http://www.soulsanctuarybook.com

Daycamp, Day 4

So BabyGirl is off at daycamp, it's after 10am, and I'm still sitting here like a lump. Spun through the tv channels only to realize there's still nothing on, then found the energy to break that spell. So now I'm wasting time on the computer. What I should be doing is taking a shower and getting ready for yoga at noon. I'm simply at a loss with an empty house or how to motivate myself as a grown-up and not a mom. Does that make any sense?

I quit work about a year before BabyGirl came home and managed to amuse myself pretty well then, but I was in graduate school (again) so I had something productive to do with my time. I finished that second master's in April 2005 (three weeks after our 4th baby came home) and now I'm adrift with my 6-hours of daily solo time this week. I'm actually glad daycamp is done tomorrow! I've defined myself as a stay-at-home mom for so long, I'm not sure what my grown-up self-definition is anymore. I think I know, but I'm pretty terrified of stepping out there again. I opted to leave my former industry to train for one I actually care about, so, in the unlikely event that I'm able to find part-time work in my new field, I'll be the new kid. At 42.

So I ask, how does a reasonably-intelligent formerly-working woman begin to become a grown-up again, separate from my baby bird who is quickly getting ready to leave the nest? After all, next month is kindergarten, next year is college, right?

For better or worse...

... I'm jumping on the blogging bandwagon. Why on earth, you wonder, does the blogosphere need yet another stay-at-home mom yakking about how cute/smart/amazing her kid is? Because I haven't found any blogs that address the kind of changes going on at our house these days.

So what's up here? Here's our family in a nutshell: Mr.B is 45, works hard to take care of us, and is an even better dad than I guessed he'd be when we got married. I'm 42, used to work in the auto industry but quit as soon as I could even remotely rationalize it under the guise of trying to get pregnant, now I stay home with Her Cuteness and try to stay one step ahead of her and her shenanigans. We've been together for almost 13 years, married for over 10. It's pretty darn great--except for the part when we're confronted by our own human foibles, of course. And then there's BabyGirl. Frankly, she's the most remarkable little girl I've ever met. She's five, smart, kind, curious, strong, and beautiful. We have a great open relationship with both of her firstparents, a first grandparent on each side, and are slowly meeting more of her first kin. It's unspeakably wonderful.

Mr.B and I did four years on the infertility merry-go-round: me, no eggs; him, wacked out sperm. Together, there's no way we can make a baby. You've seen the infertility blogs, you know how hard it is, I don't need to elaborate now. Two cycles of donor egg/ICSI/IVF resulted in only one fertilization, known as Hercules, who slipped out of my uterus when we weren't looking. We became committed to open adoption, had a little boy placed with us who was ours for two days, then met our daughter a few months later in April 2001. Last year, we tried again. In January 2005, a little girl was ours for four days, then in April, a little boy was placed with us. He was with us for 16 weeks (that's 112 days). I'm sure that whole ugly situation will be covered here at some point...

So what's our deal now? Baby Girl is gonig to kindergarten next month. I'm at a loss as to what to do with myself as a stay-at-home-mom-to-a-child-who-is-no-longer-at-home-full-time. Feeling adrift seems to sum it up. And since we've decided to be done with trying to build a bigger family, everything BabyGirl does becomes infinitely more poignant. On September 5, when Baby Girl goes off to kindergarten, my first and my last baby will be going to school. I hadn't quite expected that, the plan was that we'd have two kids, that I'd have a chance to be a mom to a little one again. Anyone else feeling at a loss like this?