Existential Musings (part 1)

I began this post over a month ago.  It will surely offend some people.  I make no apologies for that, except to say that I am not intentionally trying to offend anyone in particular.

I am not often at a loss for precise words to express the usual parade of logical thoughts that typically march in an orderly manner through my brain.  But there is something I have been thinking about a lot lately, yet I find myself unable to procure the particular words I want need in order to express it. So bear with me as I try to stitch all my thoughts together in a way that others can understand it.

I remember being in late elementary school and junior high school (yes, I am old enough to have attended junior high school instead of middle school) and asking my mom questions about the existence of people, what makes a person who they are, why thoughts are intangible, why we can't get into each other's heads and feel each others feelings.  I remember where I was standing in our game room when her answer was to go ask our pastor, but I wasn't looking for a spiritual answer; I was realizing on a deep level that we are all unique and we all exist within our own minds and can only know each other through what we choose to reveal of ourselves and what we try to understand in others.  So I guess I have been interested in existential questions and answers for decades.

At 2, he craves attention, cuddling,
comfort and someone who can
keep up with his roller-coaster of
emotions. He needs to test us and
know that we will always be there for
him, even when he is crazy and completely
irrational.

During the craziness of life, it is so easy and quick to yell at Joseph when he does something naughty, especially intentionally, or get frustrated with him when he asks for, say, a cracker and then slaps it out of my hand onto the floor when I give it to him because he is 2 and has already changed his mind about wanting a cracker in the time it takes for me to obtain one.  It is so easy to tell him "not now" when he asks to play "chugga chugga choo choo" with his wooden train set.  But when I think about how he is a tiny little person with thoughts and hopes and ideas and how he just wants to be understood and loved, I just want to cuddle him and give him everything his heart desires. When I think about how I have feelings and desires and that, just because I am older, does not make my feelings any more real or legitimate than his, I think about human nature and how ingrained the desire to be secure and loved is in all of us.

Joseph has been sick the past week, which makes him extra cuddly (and also extra difficult).  So last night, when he clearly asked "mama's bed?" when I was putting him to sleep, how could I say no to allowing him to fall asleep in the comfort and security of his parents' bed?  As he laid there on his belly, he indicated that he wanted me to rub the backs of his legs and his feet. I love a good foot massage, so it wasn't strange that he enjoyed this, but as we rested together in the dark waiting for sleep to envelop him, I thought about how, for 17 months, Joseph's desires for love and human touch and comfort and security went unmet. He is resilient, and even though he still bears some emotional scars of his time in a terrible orphanage, it is still an ineradicable necessity at the core of who he is as a human being.  It even seems selfish, in a way, that babies, toddlers, children,  want so much from their grown ups, but it isn't.  They didn't ask to be born.  Joseph certainly didn't ask to be abandoned at a time when other babies are forming bonds with adults and learning that they are supposed to be held, kissed, and given attention.  But he is here now, and he knows that if he asks, we will give him the things he needs and wants.  

At 5, she wants attention, she
wants to share her ideas and
feel validated, she wants to
make us proud, and she still
wants comfort and cuddling!

Tonight, I was putting Joseph to sleep again (after a lot of playing trains), and he only wanted to fall asleep while lying on my chest.  So I heard my lanky toddler's breath get slower and felt his drool soak my shirt while we rested belly to belly in the darkness and my thoughts turned (as they so often do) to the children who are still in orphanages and to the children whose needs are not being met. Some of them may not even know what life is "supposed" to be like, but surely they must know that something is missing or not right because the need to be touched and loved and cared for is so absolutely profound to being human.

As I cuddled my sleeping son while he rose and fell with my own breath, a judgmental thought sneaked into my mind.  If a person (or a couple) has the desire to procreate, I respect that.  Some people, most people probably, want that and it is also part of what makes us human and at a primal level it ensures the survival of our species.

Larry and I never wanted to have a family that way, and we want our kids to know that they were always our first choice. I know that we are unusual in that way.  

But there are too many people who try to chase away infertility for years, spending crazy amounts of money (or billing insurance for it), just longing for a child to hold and take care of.  That is crazy to me when there are so many kids in this world who need a loving parent to hold them and love them and give them security.  When the needs and wants of children are so humanly universal,  there is a disconnect between the kids who already exist and who need parents, homes, love and security and those grownups who want to offer it only to children who don't exist.

Joseph and Abigail could have been anyone before they were placed with us. I could be joking with another little girl from Henan who, at her core, would have been the same as Abigail, but not her specifically.  I could be cuddling a different little boy who was selected by the orphanage director to leave Zhoukou, and he also would have been amazing.  He wouldn't have been my sweet Joseph, but whoever he is, he would be amazing when given the chance to be in a family.

If you are still reading, thank you.  If you are skimming, here were my main points:

1. Larry and I want our children to know that they were always our FIRST choice for family building.  They may have, as many interracial adoptees do, a crisis of identity someday, but we never want them to question how much they were wanted, and were not a sort of consolation prize.
2. At the very core of who we are, we all start out the same.  We want to be loved, secure, held and we trust that grown ups will take care of us.
3. If people want to procreate, that is great.  (Here is where I get a little judgmental, and my gay and lesbian friends are exempt from this judgement.  This is heterosexual judgement only.)  If people who want to procreate but for some reason can't, they should adopt a child who already exists and needs a family and home.  The child you could create through medical intervention is really no different or no more special than any other child who is dying for love, affection, and attention: all humans start out needing these things.

Stay tuned for Existential Musings (part 2)

Why I Am Impossible to Shop For

Larry gave up years ago trying to figure out what to buy me for birthdays/ Christmas/ etc.  We go for sushi for our anniversary.  We like to take trips and do things or buy experiences.  But he wisely gave up buying things.  As my 37th birthday passes me by, here is what I really want:

1. A chance to say good-bye to my mother-in-law Kathleen.  She was/is an unattainable model of motherly perfection.  She had infinite patience, deep wisdom, even composure, volumes of thoughtfulness, she always put her kids (both biological children and her students) first, and every word and action she ever made was deliberate and well thought-out.  I always felt like a sailor-mouthed, impulsive, unorganized mess next to her but it made me always want to do better.
   
2. Until my next birthday, I want my children to avoid making extra work for me.  For example, today, when I have the regular chores of laundry, 30 minutes of watering plants because the rain teases me but never falls, dinner to help make, kids to bathe, kids to put to bed, and the other million things that a mother does in the hours between 4 pm and 8 pm, it would be supremely helpful if Joseph did not find an unlocked cabinet containing a glass lighting globe and smash it to glass smithereens on the bathroom sink and floor.
   
3. Children who wake up after I have had time to wake up on my own, brush my teeth, and put in my contacts.  This means all I am asking for are children who sleep until a little after 6.  That is all it would take.  

See?  That isn't much, right?

A birthday from 29 years ago.
Of course my mom isn't in the picture: moms are always taking the pictures!

Full Disclosure: Why I am a Terrible Mother

I love my kids.
Seriously, I mama-bear-love them and would seriously maim anyone who would be so stupid as to hurt them. Or tell them that Santa is not real.  (I seriously pity the child who breaks that news to Abigail.  He'll be in a body cast.)

But I am a Terrible Mother.  I am just being honest.  Larry always kisses me and hugs me and says "I love being a parent with you on my team" but I really do suck.  Here's why:

1. I am an introvert.  Having 2 tiny people want to be around me 24/7 doesn't work well with my personality.  (Yes, I claim all 24 hours since one of them always wants to sleep with me and will even sneak into bed next to me after I have fallen asleep.)  Related issue: I do not enjoy being a jungle gym and I sometimes wish that my 1 year old and 4 year old understood "personal space."
2. While Lar and I are both on summer break, we are putting the kids into daycare for 2 days per week.  We say it is to help them stay on a schedule.  To keep Joseph socialized.  So Abigail can see her friends.  But really, I would be willing to go into debt putting them in for 5 days per week just to have all that glorious time to myself.
3. Speaking of daycare, I am a MUCH better mother on days when the kids are in daycare.  It seems like I have a finite amount of patience and awesomeness and love (gulp!!) to share and on the days that they are in daycare for 8 hours and come home, all of that Wonderful Mom-ness is condensed into about 6 hours.  On days that they are home All. Day. Long.  all of my Wonderful Mom-ness has to be stretched thin to last All. Day. Long.
   I can't make more of it and the kids want to use it up by 7:43 AM.
4. Often, I find myself more interested in taking great pictures, editing pictures, sharing videos, blogging, and scrapbooking about how great my kids are and what fun things we have done and how much I love them instead of actually spending more mind-numbing time with them as they dump all of the blocks, cars, trains, train tracks, and play food onto the floor for the 12 millionth time this week.
5. I would rather run alone.  Yes, we have a double jogging stroller.  Yes, Larry likes to run too.
   But I would rather it be a solo venture.  (See #1)
6. And speaking of exercise, if I run alone, then that means Larry has had the kids for ~40 minutes.  So I feel guilty taking a shower and making him watch the kids even longer.  As a result, I am forced to decide what to do with my precious free time and loathe being forced to decide between such luxuries as exercise, showering, shaving, using the computer, and eating something I don't want to share with anyone.
7. That brings me to drink-sharing.  If I have a drink, my kids think that by extension it is their drink too.  But I have decided I am done with that; a full-scale drink-sharing embargo is now in effect.  I used to share, but no more.  I have had my fill of back-wash and mysterious floaties, not to mention the HFMD incident and how much Joseph is a festering toxic germ factory. I will gladly get them their own drink, but that never appeals to them as much as mine does.
8. I don't hear Joseph when he cries at night.  Larry will say to me in the morning, "Joseph cried 6 times last night" and I will not be aware of a single one of them as I slept right through the whole thing.  Six times.
9. All the inspirational, bloggy, preachy mommy people make memes and write about enjoying every minute with the kids while they are little and claim that things like laundry and dusting can wait.  I don't entirely agree with this.  I am just not going to live in a dirty house and my kids are going to wear clean clothes.
   When Abigail wants to be held and cover me with kisses or wants to be tucked in for the 3rd sweet time at night because she just wants another few moments with me, I sigh sadly thinking that before I know it, she will want nothing to do with me, especially not cuddly moments and kisses.  When Joseph gives a full-out belly laugh in a way that only babies can, I think "I want to bottle that sound and keep it forever."
   I do enjoy these moments, but that isn't the stuff of which days are made.
   In the every-day moments of daily living, I would usually rather be the parent scrubbing the bathroom or doing the laundry than the parent pushing 2 kids on the backyard swing while it is 90 degrees outside or squeezing back tears of boredom and listlessness while sitting on the floor next to the play kitchen set, waiting for the kids to make me a 42nd "dinner" in under as many minutes while I can only think about all of the real work I could be getting done, instead of sitting there.
   But the inspirational, bloggy, preachy mommy people don't acknowledge that real parenting is boring.  They would make you feel guilty for thinking "this is SO boring" while you are spotting your 1 year old climbing up the toddler slide for the umpteenth time today.
   But in reality, these are some of the things I did this summer because I found them more fulfilling and less mind-numbing than babysitting my own kids:  dusting, toilet scrubbing, laundry, mopping, waxing the car, closet cleaning, weeding, cleaning all the fan blades, and washing our 19 windows (inside and out). 

Given the crazy nature of my life, this entry was made in pieces all summer, just to find time for it.
Anyone can feel free to read this entry and commiserate or silently judge me.  However, any unsolicited attempts at advice-giving will not be well received or tolerated and I may seriously hurt you.

{Please don't take my kids from me.}

like a da Vinci

da Vinci used mirror writing (writing backwards) in his private writing and notes to himself.  

Abigail likes to write things up-side-down.  Sometimes for fun, we have seen her draw a smiley face or other thing up-side-down and then rotate her paper 180 degrees and exclaim with happiness when it looks "right". She shows of her work that way too:  "look, I did this one up-side-down."

I was sitting to the left on this picture, and Abigail to the right

Today, she asked me how to draw a ghost.  Since we were sitting across from each other on a table, I drew a ghost up-side-down, so that she could see it properly as I drew it.  Then she said "I want to do it."  She proceeded to draw a ghost for me, which was up-side-down for her.  

I hope this shows good spatial skills.

Our Sweet, Sensitive Kid and the Giving Tree

While enjoying sushi with acquaintances of ours this evening, one aspect of Abigail's personality was pointed out to us that I never really noticed as deeply and profoundly before toinght.


I know Abigail is a sweet kid, with a big heart.  I have even mentioned that she has tried to take care of Lar or I when we have been sick, but she is a really sensitive kid too.  I don't mean the overly-emotional-cries-over-everything kind of sensitive.  I mean the understands-the-feelings-of-others kind. For example, this morning in a store to buy her another swimming suit, Abigail heard a baby/small child crying.  She was very concerned for this kid.  "The baby is crying, Mama."
"That's right, Abigail.  Why do you think the baby is crying?"
"The baby is sad.  The baby wants her mama.  The baby misses her mama.  The baby is hungry too.  Is the baby okay, Mama?"


She was very  concerned for this child that she couldn't even see and even after the child stopped crying, Abigail still wondered if she was okay.


Larry also pointed out that Abigail frequently will look at one of us during the day and say "Are you okay, Mama/Baba?" with genuine concern in her voice.

This evening, I read to Abigail The Giving Tree for the first time.  I had thought that she was too young to understand what was happening on any meaningful level and for that reason, I hadn't bothered to read it to her before.  But once again, she surprised me in a big and wonderful way.  She was so sweet and hung on every word, studied the simple pictures.  When the boy wanted money and took the apples or branches or trunk, each time, she cupped her hands together, scooped something out of thin air, and tried to hand it to the tree and to the boy, saying "Here you go!  Here it is!"  Every time something was asked of the tree, she wanted to give.  By the end of the book, she was barely breathing when she purred in my ear "They are sad, Mama."  Then she wanted to read it again.  She did, with her father the second time, with the same reactions throughout the book.


I love my sweet, wonderful child.  I only wish her birth mother could know what an amazing kid she brought into this world because this is how she came to us:  thoughtful, empathetic, affectionate, irrepressible, sensitive.  

Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans

I always thought of this quote in the context of someone who kept planning for a future that may never come instead of living their life in the present.  I usually feel balanced between being a planner and holding Abigail tight, reading an extra story, pushing her in the swing another 5 minutes.  But lately, Larry and I have been making plans.  Big plans.  What kind of plans, doesn't matter.  But this quote is in my head because, while I am living the little moments, I am not preserving them for later.


Probably 25 times every hour, Abigail does something new or says something new that leaves Larry and me in complete awe of her.  And I think, "I need to write that down".  Then, before I can process it or enjoy it or take it in for a whole second, she does something else new or says something absolutely hilarious.  At the end of the day, we put her to bed, collapse in a chair and either read for a few minutes, watch a 22 minute TV show, or talk and make plans over a glass of wine. 


The day happens so fast, every moment with Abigail is so fleeting, the mama is so tired at the end of the day, these moments are not getting recorded, preserved for her when she has her own 2 year old to marvel. 


Even right now, as I sit here with a few spare minutes, I can't think of a thing to tell you about how much she is learning and doing each day.  I can only say in general "she is amazing and she learns so fast", but the specifics escape me.


I need to be better about this.


*******************


Okay, Larry just reminded me of one really cute exchange.


Setting:  Early morning, after less than 6 hours of sleep for everyone
Me:  Abigail, how are you not tired?  You need sleep to run all day.
Abigail:  No Mama.  I run on happy.


*******************
At least I take a lot of pictures!

424 Days

Abigail was 424 days old when we met her. 

424 days without parents to take care of her every day.

Today is the 424th day she has been in our lives. 

She has now been in a family as long as she was an orphan.

Tomorrow she will begin to widen the gap between these two periods of her life.

This is a very big deal!

I love it when...

I love it when she sings the alphabet.  She always starts with "Q".


I love it when she turns into a tiger right after her bath, before she is dressed, and she roars at me from atop her bed.


And I love it when she can't hold her tiger composure any longer and she collapses into her blankets in a giggly-wiggly mess.


I love it when she bursts into song and then dances to her own singing, whether it is "Ring Around the Rosie", "Jingle Bells", "Old MacDonald" or any other tune she produces from her sharp memory.


I love it when Larry and I are talking over her head at dinner and she reminds us that she is here and she is a person too and she wants a part in the conversation, darn it!, and she talks with authority (though not always in English) about whatever is on her mind.


I love it when she wraps her hands around my neck and says "I love you Mama".


I love it when she reads a book to herself or me.  And I love that her words are starting to make sense with the stories.


I love it when she is in her swing and says "Higher, higher, more higher!!" and then squeals with delight when the swing chains slack for a second and then catch her again.

Letter To An Unknown Birth Mother

I once read that a child's birthday really celebrates the mother, more than the child, or so it should. I want you to know that I thought about you today, in the middle of the excitement of aunts and uncles and grandparents and cake and too many gifts. I wish there was a way to let you know that she is doing well, better than that, really.

She is thriving.

I know you must be beautiful, because she is gorgeous. You must be intelligent, because she is quick to learn and very very clever. I know you have a big heart because you loved her enough to give her a chance at life when you couldn't give her that chance yourself, and you should know, she has your huge heart. Experts might say that a just-turned-2 year old is not capable of empathy, but when someone she loves is feeling sad or sick, she readily shares her toys or hugs, trying to elicit a smile. In fact, she is full of smiles, songs, hugs and kisses, giggles, teases and creativity. She is athletic and coordinated, a good dancer. She loves learning and reading and is fiercely independent but sweetly vulnerable.
Thank you a million times over for the gift of your daughter. Our daughter.

The daughter I always pictured in my mind

People who have known me for a long time are aware that I have always wanted to adopt children ever since I was old enough to form an educated opinion on the subject of having children. Adoption was always my first choice for having a family and I was fortunate enough to marry a man who also thought it was a great idea. I was told by others it was a “phase” and I would want biological children eventually.

But I don’t. I do not wish I was Abigail’s birth mother because if I was, then she wouldn’t be who she is and she is perfect in our family. The only reason I wish- even a little bit- that I was Abigail’s birth mother is for her: so she would never in her life have to realize that someone else gave her up.

As I was watching my daughter with wonder the other day, I took her in with my eyes and realized that she is exactly who I pictured she would be. When my younger self pictured my future daughter, she always looked exactly like this:

Second Week of Summer Break

Abigail loved the Gulf Breeze Zoo. It has a petting area and also a small area of regular zoo animals such as tigers and various monkeys and safari animals. It is pitiful compared to the natural habitat of the Pittsburgh Zoo, but Abigail loved it so much that we took her there 2 days in a row! The first day she wanted to be carried the whole time (I didn't mind obliging her!) but the second day she was old hat at this adventure and bravely led the way!

Lar and I were both really surprised at how much she really seemed to get out of the experience. She talked more than usual, tried to say the names of all the animals, and made their sounds (I hope to have a very adorable tiger roar video posted by the end of the week). When the monkeys were swinging back and forth on their ropes, she kept telling them "more please" and as we left each animal to go to the next one, she would say "bye bye monkeys" or "bye bye emus", blow them kisses and eagerly look to see what was next. Her favorite animals were the water buffalo (she kept mooing at it), the monkeys, and the goats.

This little kid just soaks up information and is always eager to learn more. She is so amazing. I wish that older kids and grown ups could all be as eager to learn as she is: our country would be a very different place if that was possible!

Abigail "fits in" here

We have been home almost 2 months. Abigail is adjusting to life here, just as we are adjusting to having her here. Our focus now is all on her: not on all of the extracurricular things we used to sponsor at school, not on each other, certainly not on ourselves. But this is where we are and where we want to be in our lives.

I was just thinking of Christmas a little over a year ago, which was Christmas 2009. It was the first Christmas after Lar's dad had died and his mom was spending the holiday with my family in the snowy north. I remember one evening when Lar and I made the announcement "We are going to apply to adopt a Chinese baby with special needs." There was stunned silence for a few beats, our parents realized we weren't joking, and my mother ran for the Manischewitz and

glasses.

On paper Abigail might have a special need, and of course, we don't know if her cleft repair will have an affect on how she speaks. But this wonderful, happy, creative, thoughtful, beautiful, loving, amazing little girl is anything but a "special needs" kid. Although people always tell us what a lucky little girl she is, we know we are the lucky ones, to be allowed to raise this girl, our daughter.

Thing are so blissfully ordinary now. We take walks. We go to playgrounds and parks. We snuggle under blankets and read books. We adults never stay up late anymore. But at the same time, it is everything but ordinary. We get to see the whole wide world all over again through her eyes and it is astonishing, fascinating, and wonderful.

For example, this weekend, Abigail took her

maiden voyage in her new wagon (funded mostly by Jim & Steph). Just a girl and her dog. Having a nice evening ride in a wagon. In a beautiful neighborhood. On a warm spring evening.

Today, Abigail took a ride in her wagon to the duck pond. She was supposed to be taking stale pretzels for the ducks to eat. But most of the pretzels did not make it to the duck pond.

Abigail had very little regard for the ducks. We found out anyhow that ducks do not like stale pretzels anyhow.

Happy Birthday Abigail!

Given the 12 hour time difference, it is currently our daughter's first birthday! To say that I am sad to have missed it isn't quite right: it is more like I am numb to it. I'm a little in shock about it because it was both eons ago and somehow only yesterday that she was 8 months old! I suppose all parents feel that way though.

But eventually all the stars, planets, and piles of paperwork will align just right and we will fly to China and bring her to her new home, celebrate the missed birthday and Christmas (hopefully only 1, not 2 missed Christmases)!

******************************************************************************************************

Given the lack of recent posts, I'll give a quick update of what has been happening the past month.

We got our LOA, signed it and returned it promptly. We applied for Abigail's visa and our travel visas. We finalized Abigail's middle name (Zijia). We received some type of immigration approval that I don't quite understand because it needs to go to about 4 or 5 different offices before we

can travel and I am not sure why. We also sent Abigail a birthday care package.

Another Day Older

Dear Zi Jia,

Almost 2 months have passed since we learned of you.

But you still don't know us and likely won't soon.

A few days ago was your 10-month birthday and in a few more days I'll watch your 11-month birthday slip past.

And the months will continue to fall away as you exist half a world away from us.

It breaks my heart into a million pieces to think from when we knew of you until you'll likely know of us, you will double in age.

At an age when each day counts.

Every day is another day you live in an orphanage.

Every day is another day that you are undernourished.

Every day is another day that you are not stimulated enough, held enough.
Every day is another day I worry about you, ache to hold you and take care of your needs.

"I can't believe we have a baby's room!" --Larry

This weekend Lar and I won the Craig's List Jackpot when we scored a crib, a tall dresser, and a short dresser/bookshelf hutch/changing table. We have been religiously checking Craig's List for a month (has it only been a month since we were matched with Abigail?!?!?!) and were never the first couple to respond to a set for sale.

But this time I played the "adoption card" and the seller called us back first! It is like being on your honeymoon and playing the "honeymoon card" at the airport, car-rental place, B&B, etc., only this time you are trying to get very different things for your life!

Our friend Betty bought the cutest crib bedding set for Abigail and after some help from our neighbor, we got everything set up and the crib bedding and bumper installed.

(Notice the one lone toy from our colleague Norma. It is a panda.)

Going Public and LID

This past Friday we officially "went public" with our adoption. Since we thought this process would take another whole year, we hadn't told most of the people that we know about the adoption. So not only did we get to say "Hey, we are adopting" but also "We have a daughter already." This was pretty fun, since we are teachers and all of our colleagues asked "What did you do this summer" we got to reply "We adopted a beautiful baby girl from China!"

Also, we found out on Friday that our Log In Date (LID) is Thursday, August 12. But since our match day was Wednesday, July 21, I think that Log In Day was not as big of a deal for us as it usually is for some people. What we are eagerly waiting for is our letter that will allow us to travel to China and bring home our beautiful little girl with her penetrating onyx eyes.

Lar and I recently visited day cares to select one to care for our daughter when we return to work. (I must say that I already can't bear the thought or fathom the idea that we are going to take our precious little human and entrust her to strangers for 6 hours each day!)

Anyhow, we were incredibly impressed with the second daycare we saw. It smelled of clean and of baby and of content. A few babies were napping in their individual cribs. A worker was rocking another. A teacher was changing a bulletin board. It was soothing. We were impressed that they use baby signs to communicate and feel that is a good choice for our daughter who was born with a cleft lip and palate and may have speech problems.

As Larry and I exited the facility and walked to the car, I declared that it was so peaceful and wonderful there that I just wanted to quit my job teaching high school students and work there, holding babies all day.

Shocked (because I have never really liked babies and have never wanted to hold one), Larry turned to me and exclaimed "Who are you and what have you done with my wife!?!?!"

Can you love someone before you meet her?

As Lar and I sat in our hotel room 2 weeks ago and looked at the tiny pictures of the girl who might be our daughter, I asked him "Are we supposed to feel something?" He said "I don't know."

Two weeks later, I get more excited by the day about her arrival. I feel so attached to her. I told Lar "I didn't know I could love someone so much without even knowing her." He admitted that he didn't think I could either, since I am not exactly the warm and fuzzy one in the family.

But I do. I love her so much already. I never thought I had a "maternal instinct" but apparently I do.