So I haven't worked all week due to snow which has made for a long week. I don't do well on vacations. I'm one of those folks who deals with life by filling it up with activities and while I do have some hobbies, I'm rarely motivated to pursue them during time off.
It's been a difficult week at home which hasn't helped matters. I need a good cry, but I don't cry- especially in front of other people. Sure I get moved by things and my eyes well up, but I fight it- which means if I say something made me cry, what really happened is that I got teary-eyed but refused to cry.
Unhealthy I know.
One of the big things in my life is music. It moves me. As I mentioned earlier, the latest song on my emotional list is "Saying Goodbye" from the Muppets. It's killing me. Especially the line "...but we both know, sometimes it's better to go..." It reminds me of the adoption CD a friend made.
You see, when you become a birthmother, suddemly every song has a whole new meaning. What were once boy/girl sappy love songs become adoption creeds. Seriously, you start to wonder if all these musicians are really birthmothers and just keeping it a secret.
When I was pregnant and had decided to place my daughter, Mariah Carey's song "Whenever You Call" became my personal song. Imagine yourself pregnant and making an adoption plan while listening to that song and you'll become a believer. I still can't sing along with that song without tearing up.
But back to the adoption CD. My friend started the CD with Whitney Houston's song "I Will Always Love You". Before that CD, I didn't really think much of the song. It was overplayed and I saw The Bodyguard so I associated it with that. Suddenly though it became one of those songs with new meaning. It also had the message of sometimes just knowing that it's better to leave.
Both songs remind me of how hard that was.
I cried freely in the hospital- at least while no one was looking. My hospital records are filled with nurses' notes about walking into my room to find me crying. I woke up early while in the hospital and used those early morning hours to grieve before my family came.
The last day at the hospital was the hardest.
My family also knows me as a non-crier. In fact, after my dad saw a show I was in during which I had to cry onstage, he told me how hard it was to sit there and watch because it was so rare to see me cry.
Those last few hours in the hospital are filled with checkups and pictures and all that. My daughter's parents stayed in the hospital with the baby so they were preparing to take her home. My dad was also there because he was taking me home from the hospital. We were in some big room waiting to take the official hospital pictures and I watched my daughter's parents fussing over my daughter and trying to get everything right for the pictures and it just hit me that she was no longer mine. I completely lost it and thankfully my dad had the good sense to lead me back to my room so I could cry in private.
It was a teary day. I was lucky to have the foresight to choose to leave the hospital with my daughter (I've heard plenty of horror stories about leaving the hospital with empty arms) and we said good bye in the parking lot.
It was a beautiful sunny day and there was a nice bench outside where we took lots of pictures. I often look at them and find them so fitting. They could be in a video about loss. Here's the birthmother with the baby, here's the birthmother baby and parents, here's just the parents and baby, here's the birthmother alone- red eyes- distant.
I imagine my eyes have never quite looked the same.