I didn't set up intervals that are backed legally. I just told Katie and Greg to send them every so often. In the beginning I asked for every threw weeks, because babies change so quickly. It didn't work out that way though, life got too busy for both of us. Now, I figured every few months and they lessen over time.
Normally I love updates. I get new pictures, I hear about how he's doing and get to brag to my friends, and all my questions I've been thinking about get answered. I received his six month update this week. I got a couple new pictures. I learned what he's doing right now in development, his temperament, what he looks like and weights, and even likes and dislikes. He has likes and dislikes. I plan to brag about him later to my friends. I don't really feel like it now. All of my questions were answered; I know that he can roll over, he is eating baby food now, his hair is blonde and his eyes still blue like I wished all pregnancy they would be, and he's still a very happy boy. Its everything I asked for and everything I wanted. I was so happy.
Yet I found my self falling to the floor and bawling my eyes out. It was very dramatic. I don't know why. It might have been because I had a bad nights sleep the night before. It could have been because I was already in a terrible mood because of yet another fight with Victor. It could have been because I hadn't heard from them in 2 months and now all of a sudden a sign of life. What ever the reason was, I found my self in tears on my bedroom floor.
All the thoughts that I had when I first gave him up came flooding back. I'm not proud of these thoughts or the feelings I had. They usually consisted of three things: How much I missed him, How much I wanted him back, and How much my life was not worth living.
Let me make this clear, I am an all bark no bite kind of person. I only talk big, I don't act big. I spent a good portion of my first two months of postpartum begging Victor to let me ask for him back knowing full well that even if he said yes, I wouldn't do it. Jude was happier there and I could never disappoint Katie and Greg like that. No one deserves to have happiness given to them and taken away just as quickly. I would also never commit suicide. Not to say I haven't tried, because I have. The thought has crossed my mind multiple times, more so after I gave up Jude, but I could never do it. Death scares me too much. I've read horror stories of women who gave up their children for an open adoption and once the adoption was final the adoptive parents close the open part of the adoption, and the birth mother commits suicide shortly afterwards. When I hear these stories I think two things: 1). I seriously hope the child of said adoption family grows up to hate his mom and dad. These people are, in my opinion, the worst kind of people imaginable and they piss me off to no end. 2). The birth mothers did an sad and bad thing, but I can understand it. There were days when I felt my life wasn't worth living with out Jude. They were all in the beginning though.
Here I am, six months later, going like two hundred steps backwards, feeling like I was the day I left the hospital. Updates are supposed to make me happy! I get confirmation that he's happy, healthy, developing at the right pace, and growing up! I get pictures! I LOVE pictures!
So do I feel like I'm loosing him all over again?
Updates are a good thing. I would go absolutely crazy if I had no idea where he was, what he was doing, and not knowing what he looks like. I've cried opening the other updates as well, this just so happens to be a special case (trust me, this is does not happen everyday). Like most things though, you need to take the good with the bad. They make me miss him even more and if its been a while, my patience is really tested waiting for a new one. For me the good always weighs out the bad.
Maybe it gets easier over time.
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