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.