Dear Baby,
I wanted to let you know that I’m not always sad and heartbroken when I think about you. I spent some time recently going through the last five years of journals, and I noticed that in the beginning, and even during treatment, I was on a roller coaster of emotions. Some entries were happy and fun and hopeful, while others really highlighted how long, hard, and emotionally draining this journey can be.
Then, after stepping away from writing about it all for a year, I came back and every post since has been really depressing. I’m sorry about that.
I know that it’s been difficult lately, especially with the holidays, but I think it’s important to let you know that this isn’t always the case. I can and do think about you and not cry. I can and do play with my friend’s babies and have a wonderful time. I can and do share in the joy of pregnancy with the mommy-to-bes in my life, and I can laugh with them and touch their tummies and come up with names for their little ones. Babies are wonderful, magical, and they don’t always make me sad.
You are not a hardship for me.
The road getting to you may be awful, but that’s only because I want you so badly and I’m frustrated with everything keeping me from you.
But you. You are wonderful. And when I think about you – about my baby, and not my inability to find you or the unfairness of it all – I am unbelievably happy.
Today is a prime example of what I’m talking about. I’ve thought about you all day, but I’ve had a wonderful time doing it.
Let me start off by telling you a bit about this silly, amazing, perfect family you’ll get to call your own. There’s your dad – we’ve discussed him at length, and yet there’s still so much left to say. For now, though, we’ll move on to the other people who make up the Miller family.
You see, you already have four siblings. They may not be human, but they are our kids and will be your brothers and sisters. They didn’t come to us as a replacement for not finding you, but over the years, they’ve helped to fill the gaping hole where you should be. They’re more than just pets. They’re our children.
I’ve mentioned them before, but I want to formally introduce you guys:
First, there’s Charley. She’s the oldest at twelve. She’s a precocious little muted calico cat. She’s not overly fond of her siblings, but she adores your dad and me. Every morning, she’ll meet me in the hallway, and together we’ll head to the kitchen for coffee and treats. For a solid half hour, she’s in my lap and it’s just the two of us, starting our day together. Then, she’ll stay up late into the night with your dad, so much that when I snuggle her in the morning, she smells like your dad’s cologne.
Then, there’s Wesley. Wesley is a seven year old husky/bulldog mix, and make no mistake – he’s a person. He’ll be your big brother in such a way you won’t realize he’s another species. Wes talks to us, Wes runs errands with us. Wes has his own circle of friends. Wes goes to restaurants with us. He doesn’t realize he’s a dog, and we don’t have the heart to tell him so. He’s the smartest – and most stubborn – person I know. Above all else, I can’t wait for you to meet him. He’ll be a great big brother to you.
Next, there’s Harley. She’s six now, and tiny for her breed – she’s supposedly a rottie/mastiff/terrier mix, but she’s barely larger than a lapdog. Don’t let her size fool you, though. To quote Shakespeare, “though she be little, she is fierce!”
Harley is our protector, our security guard, and our queen. She rules the Miller Manor with an iron paw, and has more energy than all of her siblings combined. She demands playtime, demands cuddles and scritches, demands love and attention. She tries to pretend that she’s a heartless ruler, but she is the most affectionate little dictator you’ll ever know.
And lastly, there’s Casey. Casey is our biggest, but definitely not our brightest. He’s our five year old pittie puppy, and the sweetest critter you’ll ever meet. He’s got these beautiful brown eyes that will melt the coldest of hearts and a smile that will brighten the darkest day. He’s a lovebug, a gentle giant, and a couch potato. He’ll be your pillow, your pony, and your best friend.
I love them all so much. You will, too, once you get to meet them. The only thing that makes me sad is sometimes wondering if there will be a day when the five of you get to play together. I want that so much.
But for now, you guys go hand in hand, and when I’m with your furry little siblings, I can’t not think about you, too. You will fit right in with all the craziness, and it makes me so incredibly happy.
Like today. Today was Saturday, and since your dad and I were out later than usual last night, watching football with some friends, I slept in this morning.
Or, maybe I should say, I tried sleeping in. I hadn’t gotten up for coffee and snuggles with Charley yet, so she came in and got me. Which made me smile – I got to thinking about you, and how there would be some Saturday mornings when you’d come hop in bed with your daddy and me before we all started our day.
Then, everyone except Charley went outside for playtime. I got another cup of coffee for me and one for your dad, and we sat on the back porch and watched the puppies play with new toys they got for Christmas. That also made me smile. One day, we’ll watch you play with everything Santa brought you.
But outside this morning, I noticed this wonderful spot on the corner of the patio – it’s partially dappled with shade from the branches of our trees, and would make an excellent spot for a pack n’ play. You’d fit right in with us, outside every Saturday morning watching the puppies run around like little hooligans. I could almost hear your laughter at their antics.
After I came in and did some housework, we went on a few errands, and then came home and took the puppies for a walk. Once again, I thought about how one day I’d be pushing a stroller with you in it while Wesley meandered along, stopping every few feet to sniff at nothing in particular. How we’d eventually graduate to a little red wagon, and then how you’d walk or maybe ride your bike along beside us, like the other kids in our neighborhood do with their parents and puppies. And then, I thought about the days when you were old enough to walk the pups by yourself.
I know that Wes, at least, will be long gone by then, and I’ll admit, thinking about that made me a little sad. But we’ll have other furry siblings for you, for all of your life. Maybe by the time Wes, Harley and Casey have left us, you’ll want to go to the shelter with us and pick out your own little brother or sister. And, once again, that filled my heart with so much joy.
We WILL be a family one day, baby. You’ll play with us and hop in our bed and come on walks with the puppies. I’ve got to believe that.
Think of you and smiling today.
Love, mom
(And Daddy, Wesley, Harley, Casey, and Charley Cat)
My Stork Got Lost 