Joined
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411 Posts
...for about two weeks now...
I couldn't figure out why...Now I remember...
The bean should be 2.5 weeks old and in her mommies arms right now.
We should be nursing her. We should be waking every thirty minutes to see if she's breathing or wet or poopy or lonely or cold or hot or has covered her face or... just awake and making cute brand new baby faces (or asleep and making cute brand new baby faces)...
Our due date should have been around November 17th-25th (ish)... We should have been spending Thanksgiving at home making everyone wash their hands a bazillion times and still only getting to peek a finger into the edge of her blankie because "she likes it when her momma/mommy hold her BEST". The man who would have been her "Dadini" should have been meeting his daughter and sharing the first few days of her life with us, curled right up there in our bed, watching her sleep with us, being the Nervous Dad, making sure everyone had everything they need, trying to carry her mommy to the potty so she didn't have to get up and even risk disturbing his baby girl. Instead, on Thanksgiving, he met our new foster girls and brought them soft pink fleece blankets that should have been for OUR BABY.
He was melted into a puddle of J by Lil1, instead of by the squeaky thing in our bed, puking on herself.
I let (make) myself get so busy with Big1 and Lil1 that I don't even think about her most days. And it's not intentional; I just get so tired that I can't even think about showering or going to the bathroom. Then a quiet moment or two like I've had today or yesterday comes up where no one needs me and I'm just being still and I think about the baby that no one even knows about. I suppose it's almost a blessing... that nine and a half months later I am able to function instead of shaking the world and asking "why OUR baby????" even a blessing that she didn't stay with us long enough that we had told M's mom and dad and brother and and and... instead just us... Our little secret, which we eventually shared with J...
The little one who stayed with us for about twelve days. Who only made her presence known to the body she was inside and the hearts of her mommies. No one would believe us, we tested three times more often than we should have, and I know that one time there was a stupid fucking line - I don't give a rats ass if it was "too faint to be positive". Or only there because the test strip had dried out... Never enough to prove to the doctors. She wouldn't even *try* to hide herself from us. She changed M's hair, scent, form, skin, sensitivity to everything... Plus, she liked ginger. She had to, because I promise you, her mommy HATES ginger, and yet, she CRAVED it. Plus just looking at the pictures of M the day *we* knew, anyone could see it.
We both just woke up that morning and KNEW. There was a little bean sprouting in M's belly and it was going to be a girl bean and we had no idea what to do with that, but she was beautiful, and ours and we kept giggling all day long. We did everything we could find to do to help her stay put where she was, we googled and cross checked the safety of damned near everything M ate (occasionally in triplicate), to be sure it couldn't hurt our bean. We kept ourselves busy but relaxed, only thought about the positive... We talked to her and told her we loved her and we couldn't wait to meet her.
We just knew she was going to be a girl, we both had girl dreams two days before the night that M spotted from implantation and every night thereafter... Like she was saying, get ready moms, you thought you wanted a boy - too bad, I'm a GIRL and you're going to love me more than you even knew possible! And we did. **From that very moment.**
Nothing more than a little bean who we never even gave a name to. She didn't deserve to be weighted down with a name, she doesn't. She's our little soul, our bean. And she still has my heart, even if I manage to forget some days.
And I don't want to remind M because if she isn't thinking about her, I don't want her to because she's 70 miles away in the mountains at her moms. If she started crying about OUR BABY no one would understand.
I want our little girl. Our pink, scrunchy-faced, squeaky, chubby (or lanky), brown-haired, still slate-grey-eyed, rosebud lipped, tight fisted, precious, adored, loved to pieces by all THREE of her doting parents little girl!
Instead I have two empty cribs for babies who are not ours, are not even ours "for now", and a set of bunk beds in the nursery. I should be filling up the diaper genie with teeny-tiny newborn diapies instead of 3t pull-ups. Even if I do love the wearer of said pull-ups...
I want our baby.
Ask me why I don't believe in "god".
I want her now.
I want our baby.
I want our baby.
I want our baby.
I want my baby, I want M's baby, I want J's baby...
...I want our daughter...
...
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...
Why can't we be holding our little bean????
Last edited by want2bmoms; Today at 11:15 PM. Reason: to make it clear that I don't resent my DFDs and be just generally more clear... ...
How morbid am I for having wanted to catch her even though there was no chance of finding her, she hadn't even had the chance to develope limbs... For wanting to catch every last bit of what was becomming her and just hoping that there was something, anything that would tell us, "this is your baby", and getting to hold her in my hand for just one moment???
I've never admitted to that... how badly I wanted to search for her in all that mess and blood and whatnot... I didn't... it was too much. too morbid and graphic... and so... our sweet baby girl either ended up being thrown into the trashcan like waste or flushed down the toilet like feces...
uke
![]()
I couldn't figure out why...Now I remember...
The bean should be 2.5 weeks old and in her mommies arms right now.
We should be nursing her. We should be waking every thirty minutes to see if she's breathing or wet or poopy or lonely or cold or hot or has covered her face or... just awake and making cute brand new baby faces (or asleep and making cute brand new baby faces)...
Our due date should have been around November 17th-25th (ish)... We should have been spending Thanksgiving at home making everyone wash their hands a bazillion times and still only getting to peek a finger into the edge of her blankie because "she likes it when her momma/mommy hold her BEST". The man who would have been her "Dadini" should have been meeting his daughter and sharing the first few days of her life with us, curled right up there in our bed, watching her sleep with us, being the Nervous Dad, making sure everyone had everything they need, trying to carry her mommy to the potty so she didn't have to get up and even risk disturbing his baby girl. Instead, on Thanksgiving, he met our new foster girls and brought them soft pink fleece blankets that should have been for OUR BABY.
He was melted into a puddle of J by Lil1, instead of by the squeaky thing in our bed, puking on herself.
I let (make) myself get so busy with Big1 and Lil1 that I don't even think about her most days. And it's not intentional; I just get so tired that I can't even think about showering or going to the bathroom. Then a quiet moment or two like I've had today or yesterday comes up where no one needs me and I'm just being still and I think about the baby that no one even knows about. I suppose it's almost a blessing... that nine and a half months later I am able to function instead of shaking the world and asking "why OUR baby????" even a blessing that she didn't stay with us long enough that we had told M's mom and dad and brother and and and... instead just us... Our little secret, which we eventually shared with J...
The little one who stayed with us for about twelve days. Who only made her presence known to the body she was inside and the hearts of her mommies. No one would believe us, we tested three times more often than we should have, and I know that one time there was a stupid fucking line - I don't give a rats ass if it was "too faint to be positive". Or only there because the test strip had dried out... Never enough to prove to the doctors. She wouldn't even *try* to hide herself from us. She changed M's hair, scent, form, skin, sensitivity to everything... Plus, she liked ginger. She had to, because I promise you, her mommy HATES ginger, and yet, she CRAVED it. Plus just looking at the pictures of M the day *we* knew, anyone could see it.
We both just woke up that morning and KNEW. There was a little bean sprouting in M's belly and it was going to be a girl bean and we had no idea what to do with that, but she was beautiful, and ours and we kept giggling all day long. We did everything we could find to do to help her stay put where she was, we googled and cross checked the safety of damned near everything M ate (occasionally in triplicate), to be sure it couldn't hurt our bean. We kept ourselves busy but relaxed, only thought about the positive... We talked to her and told her we loved her and we couldn't wait to meet her.
We just knew she was going to be a girl, we both had girl dreams two days before the night that M spotted from implantation and every night thereafter... Like she was saying, get ready moms, you thought you wanted a boy - too bad, I'm a GIRL and you're going to love me more than you even knew possible! And we did. **From that very moment.**
Nothing more than a little bean who we never even gave a name to. She didn't deserve to be weighted down with a name, she doesn't. She's our little soul, our bean. And she still has my heart, even if I manage to forget some days.
And I don't want to remind M because if she isn't thinking about her, I don't want her to because she's 70 miles away in the mountains at her moms. If she started crying about OUR BABY no one would understand.
I want our little girl. Our pink, scrunchy-faced, squeaky, chubby (or lanky), brown-haired, still slate-grey-eyed, rosebud lipped, tight fisted, precious, adored, loved to pieces by all THREE of her doting parents little girl!
Instead I have two empty cribs for babies who are not ours, are not even ours "for now", and a set of bunk beds in the nursery. I should be filling up the diaper genie with teeny-tiny newborn diapies instead of 3t pull-ups. Even if I do love the wearer of said pull-ups...
I want our baby.
Ask me why I don't believe in "god".
I want her now.
I want our baby.
I want our baby.
I want our baby.
I want my baby, I want M's baby, I want J's baby...
...I want our daughter...
...
Why can't we be holding our little bean????
Last edited by want2bmoms; Today at 11:15 PM. Reason: to make it clear that I don't resent my DFDs and be just generally more clear... ...
How morbid am I for having wanted to catch her even though there was no chance of finding her, she hadn't even had the chance to develope limbs... For wanting to catch every last bit of what was becomming her and just hoping that there was something, anything that would tell us, "this is your baby", and getting to hold her in my hand for just one moment???
I've never admitted to that... how badly I wanted to search for her in all that mess and blood and whatnot... I didn't... it was too much. too morbid and graphic... and so... our sweet baby girl either ended up being thrown into the trashcan like waste or flushed down the toilet like feces...
uke
