It has been a little less than two weeks since Owen was born. Just nine days since we left the hospital in a rush of tears and raw pain. ... It feels like it's been a year. Some days I feel 'normal' I follow my friends on Facebook, commenting and "LOL"ing, watching SNL, cooking real meals. Some days I can barely bring myself to make a tv dinner and instead lay in bed, half-comatose, blindly watching old episodes of Friends. And others, I feel okay, and then out of nowhere, I think of his head on my chest. I think of all that I will miss. And I cry until my throat is sore and my eyes are red. And even then a lump of tears resides in my throat until I think I might actually choke to death on it.
We met the attorney and set a date for the court. It is in about a month. It seems so far away. And not far enough. I received a list of questions I'll be asked in court. Things like, 'How many men did you sleep with during the conception period?' and 'Do you understand what you're giving up legally by terminating your parental rights? Please explain.'. I'm terrified. And given that I barely held myself from crying in the meeting, I'm certain to bawl in court.
I've been working on Zion's scrapbook with his family tree. Our adoption specialist delivered a blow I foolishly did not prepare myself for; Zion will not call us Mommy or Daddy, but rather by our first names. I don't know why that did not occur to me. Of course he won't. And the logical portion of me says it would be unfair to ask his adoptive parents to give us that special title. It's theirs. That's what adoption is. But it hurts.
We've also scheduled our first post-birth meeting with Zion and his parents for a week after our court date. Part of me fears it's too soon and I won't be able to keep myself composed. But most of me is disappointed it's so far away. I don't know how I'll survive the next month, at this rate. If two weeks feels like a year, then a month will feel like an eternity.
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