Get a hobby

"My goodness your hands are full!"
"Bless your heart, all boys?"
"You need a girl!"
"You must be exhausted!"
"You are superwoman"

You have probably heard all of these, or some variation of these, if you're a mom of more than one. I hear all of these and many more all the time! The last one listed isn't so bad. I mean we all are superwoman! We are amazing! We multi-task and spend majority of our days keeping our kids alive! These comments don't seem to bother me anymore and I have actually gotten pretty good at having a comeback. No, something else got under my skin and I feel like there are a lot of people out there who will understand.

A few weeks ago I had been feeling off. My husband and I had just gotten back from an adult only trip and I was tired and a little nauseous but thought it was just from overdoing it on vacation. But I was late. Mother nature had not visited me yet and although I was certain she would come to call I decided to pee on a stick just in case. YA'LL!!! It was positive!!! WHAT???
Lately I have gone through an amazing transformation, I have managed to lose around 50 pounds and my monthly cycle has not been regular so I never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, thought that this would happen now. But it did.
My husband was unbelievably excited. Clapping his hands like a 5 year old excited. Me? Not so much. I had an anxiety attack in the bathroom when it turned positive. I peed on soooo many sticks it shouldn't be legal. All I could think was how am I going to do this? Is anyone going to be excited for us? What are they going to think? What is my mother going to think?
After a few weeks we heard the heartbeat of the baby, it was strong and healthy and I broke down in tears from relief and excitement. Now I am ready to face this challenge and feel like this IS the right time.

Why did I feel overwhelmed?

So let's back up a little bit.
I have three boys. We had them all about 2 years apart, our last one joined our family December 2015. They all have so much energy and they can run circles around me. They exhaust me. I love them and wouldn't trade them for anything.
I also have a special needs child. A non-verbal, Wheelchair bound, g-tube fed child. He requires a lot of attention and doctors appointments but he has never seemed like an added burden to me. He fits right in with everyone else in my family and he grows and progresses at his own rate. He is just a part of our family and we love him so much. So our life is a little more crazy than others but it's our life and we are happy. Other people see it differently.

It all began when I was pregnant with Zac (the youngest). Things with Oliver (special needs) had still been in full swing to where appointments for therapy were every week, doctors appointments were slung in there between therapy, and specialists were trying to get as much as they could out of him before he turned 3. When I told a physician that I would need to postpone an appointment because I would have a newborn she said "You should have thought harder about getting pregnant, isn't Oliver enough work?" Yeah. People seriously thought I was insane for wanting another child.

When Zac came along we continued to talk about having a fourth kid. We wanted another child because we felt our family wasn't complete and we really wanted to try for a girl. Most people told me I was crazy! Yes I am but that's not the point. When my husband and I were discussing it with family one person pulled me aside and said "You really need to stop having children. You need to go back to school or get a hobby. You have enough children already." Really? Those words have rattled around in my head for over a year. The first thing thing I heard when I saw the positive sign was "get a hobby"

So many people feel the need to tell me to stop having kids. Not for health reasons. Not for financial reasons, but because THEY think I have too many. "You know there is a thing called birth control right?" "You're getting your tubes tied this time right?" "You do know what causes this right?" "You're having ANOTHER baby?" My favorite is when we announced it to family and friends one response was "AGAIN?"

So here I sit, pregnant, emotional, hormonal, and adding to the population.

Whether I decide to have 10 kids, or 15 kids, or just 4, that is between me and my husband. We care for our children. We love our children. We feel that there is one more soul that we need to bring earth side. My family size is my choice.

Please just be happy for anyone who is bringing a life into this world. You never know if they struggled to have that life. If they feel guilty because they are having a baby when all her friends have recently lost a baby. You do not know the circumstances so think before you speak. Your words could forever hurt someone. Having another baby should be exciting and precious and nobody should ever make you feel bad for adding to your family whether you have 10 kids or just 3 or if one is special needs or not. Share in their happiness and congratulate them, help them be excited for the future infant, offer help, there is so much more that can be done than judging them.

Please, no ginger ale. (TMI)

Hyperemesis Gravidarum. HG. It's something that has affected me for the first 26-ish weeks of my pregnancies with all of my kids. That makes me one of the lucky ones, some people have it until they give birth, or even beyond. The only pregnancy that I didn't suffer with it was with our angel baby. So in a way, it's almost comforting that I am suffering with it again. Sort of. I mean, every morning that I wake up and have to run for the toilet to puke reminds me that my baby is still growing. But I guess comforting isn't the right word, because there is nothing comfortable about HG. Reassuring, maybe?

Wait, suffering again? But that must mean... SURPRISE! The Mojicas are expecting baby #4!
We found out the week before last. The whole family had been struck with a stomach bug that was going around and even though I don't normally catch stomach bugs, even when my kids do, I was struck too. (And this is the TMI part - sorry!) While all the kids that had it were throwing up, most of the grown ups that we knew who had caught it, only had, fever, nausea and the runs. Well by the third day, my fever had gone away and so had the diarrhea, but the nausea was getting worse. I knew then that I had to take a test. The next day came and the nausea was accompanied by severe food aversions. That's it, I KNEW for sure that if I tested, it would be positive. So I took a test, more as a formality than anything, I already knew what it would say, and sure enough, there were two lines.
While most normal people that still wanted more kids would be nothing but happy to find out they are expecting a new addition to their family, my happiness was accompanied with dread. It's a feeling that other HG mamas know all too well. You see, HG isn't just your regular, run of the mill morning sickness, oh no. It's so much more than that. Morning sickness is generally characterised by nausea and vomiting, and maybe some mild food aversions. For some people it lasts all day, but for most, it's intermittent. Morning sickness usually goes away with the first trimester and can generally be remedied with sea bands, crackers and ginger ale.
HG on the other hand, is extreme and unrelenting. You are sick every waking moment, with no relief. You have aversions to EVERYTHING. You have very few 'safe foods'. You have to eat, not only to fuel your body and the baby, but also because the emptier your stomach gets, the sicker you get. But eating is a chore. You don't get hungry in the way you used to, instead, your stomach just feels empty.
Food aversions are so extreme, that just the thought of food makes you heave. Scrolling through social media feeds is a dangerous game, because every picture of food that you scroll past makes you gag, if not throw up.
HG makes you tired and weak, to the point that normal, everyday tasks are exhausting. Taking a shower feels like I have just run a marathon. Walking from the living room to the kitchen means that I have to stop and rest before I can do anything else. Just yesterday, Anthony had to help me up off the floor because I had gotten dizzy and sat down and I couldn't get myself back up again.
And that's not all, there are other symptoms: altered sense of taste. I would describe foods and what they taste like now, but if I do, I will be running for my puke bucket. Just know that it's extreme and unpleasant.
Heightened sense of smell. Everything has a strong smell, even things that didn't smell before. And of course, every smell is bad. I can smell heat coming from out oven, hotplates and toaster. I can smell the coldness from our fridge and freezers. One of the worst smells for me is people. It's not something that I had ever smelled  before getting pregnant, so I know it's just my HG, but EVERYONE has this smell, I can't even describe it. It's just the smell of humans. I can smell it on their breath and on their skin. I can smell it through their soap when they are freshly bathed. It's just there. The smell of humans.
I get dizzy all the time. Probably because I can't even keep down water most of the time. And I have no normal body temperature, I am always either freezing cold or burning hot, there is no in between.
All in all, it's a nightmare and all I can do is try to cope, to get through each day.
Medication helps, but that just gets me to the point that I just described above, I can't even imagine not having it.
Other than that, all I can do to cope is find my safe foods, today it's triscuits and string cheese, the other day I could eat almonds, but that's out now. I try to eat a little bit every twenty minutes or so to keep my stomach from being empty and pray that it stays down.
If you know anybody suffering from HG, please know that they are not exaggerating, it is a nightmare. Crackers and ginger ale don't help. Things that usually help morning sickness dont help. The rare things that do help can change from day to day.
It's a frustrating and lonely sickness and all I can ask of my friends and family is to not talk about food to me and please, please pray that it goes away sooner than my previous pregnancies. ❤

Stop telling me that I need to have a girl.

     Today, I hauled my heavily pregnant butt out of the house and walked to the store, with my two boys in tow. It's not hard to tell that I'm about to pop out another kid, and of course, people make well meaning comments. What really gets to me though, is that people seem to think that because I already have two boys, I NEED a girl. Random strangers come up to me and ask, no, TELL me that I'm having a girl! 

     Today in Big Lots, we walked down the toy aisle and a lady that was working there, stacking the shelves said "that's a girl in there, isn't it?" 

"I'm not sure, we didn't find out"

"Oh" then SHE ROLLED HER EYES! "I bet you're hoping for a girl"

"Actually we don't mind either way"

And she rolled her eyes AGAIN! It's bad enough that she couldn't control her facial expressions the first time, but to roll her eyes at me TWICE! You bet I was pissed!

     Then, when we were walking home, a middle aged man was going into the Chinese restaurant as we were passing it and held the door open to ask if we wanted to go in, I politely declined and thanked him and he responded with "I hope that baby's a girl, then you can be done!"

     The worst part is, this isn't the first time that I have had this sort of exchange with people throughout this pregnancy and I find it extremely out of line. 

I think what really gets to me, is that this didn't start with this current pregnancy. When I was pregnant with Kennen, people would ask me if I was hoping for a girl, when I would tell them that we wanted a boy, so that he could be a playmate for Lachlan, they would ask me why. I had people ask me if I was disappointed that I was having another boy. Literally from the moment Kennen was born, I had people telling me that I needed to try for a girl. The implication that my family will not be perfect without at least one of each gender is so bizarre to me. That's part of the reason we didn't want to find out this time around, because apart from the clothes that he/she will wear, it doesn't matter to us one iota what gender our baby is. 

     I have even had people ask me if this baby turns out to be a boy, will we try again for a girl? 

     Don't get me wrong, I don't mind when friends and family tell me that they are hoping that our baby is a boy or girl or even a velociraptor (thanks hubby!), they know me and I know it's all in fun, but when a complete stranger on the street or in a store tells me that my baby MUST be a girl, it drives me completely insane, ESPECIALLY when I tell them that we don't have a preference and they look at me like I have two heads.

     To set the record straight: we are not planning on this being our last baby. Yes, we would love to have a girl (or two... or three...) eventually, but we also want another boy at some point, so whether that boy comes along now or years in the future, we will be overjoyed. 

     When strangers tell me that they think I am having a girl, or that they hope my baby is a girl, I feel like what they are actually implying is that they think my child will not be perfect if he is a boy, or that they think we will not be happy unless it is a girl.

     You can rest assured that this baby will be perfect for our family, no matter what is in his/her diaper. Our Heavenly Father knows us, he knows what is best for our family and he knows that whoever it is that will be joining us in the next week or so will be the perfect addition to our family and will be loved beyond measure.

     As for whether we will be done if it is a girl, or if we will try again for a girl if it's a boy, the answer is no. No we will not be finished having kids if this baby is a girl, we want a big family regardless of how many boys or girls we have. No we will not "try for a girl" if this baby is a boy. Yes, we will try for more kids, but we will not try for a specific sex. We will never be disappointed by whether or not we have a boy or a girl. 

     We trust that the Lord knows us best and He will give us the perfect family, no matter how many boys or girls we are blessed with. Our children's sex will not ever determine whether or not our family is complete. 

Determined

I have a friend that inspired me to choose a word for the year and use that word to make the year worth everything it can be. This would be my new years resolution summed up in a single word. I chose the word Determination. Boy did I give myself a word to live up to.

Soon after the year began I was "determined" to stick to my word. I was going to work hard to live a healthier lifestyle, to be an awesome mother, love my husband more,be a positive happy person, and accept whatever life hands me with a smile. I bombed miserably. If I was to pick a word today to describe the past months it would be "mediocre."

Since January my family has moved back to our home state. It has become such a blessing to be closer to family. We are able to have a closer relationship for our kids with their grandparents and we have a lot of support when we need it.
We have been able to celebrate the first birthday of my youngest son with family and be grateful for all the things he has accomplished since birth.
We are going to welcome a third addition to our family (another boy) in December and so far he is healthy and strong.
My husband is working a great job and providing for us. He is a hard working man and it shows everyday.

So what's the problem??? Why mediocre??
My attitude has been terrible...............

Every day has been a struggle for me. Each day I get up and I know I have to argue with a three year old and stress about my youngest who won't take a spoon and will only eat formula out of a bottle. I constantly fight to get the best treatment for my son when people just want us to choose the easiest way out. I get funny looks when I tell people that my youngest baby is almost 18 months even though he still acts like a 6 month old. I feel my family judging me because my three year old isn't doing what they think he should be doing. They constantly complain about how much energy he has and how exhausting he is to be around. Since our pregnancy with number three, I have felt exhausted every day and less and less beautiful as the days go by. I feel that people feel sorry for us because we are having another baby when we should have waited for our youngest to develop more and be a little more independent. I have so many feels these days!!!!
I can't possibly be the only person out there feeling all these feels by myself right???????
SO!!! Lets suck it up!! Move on!

Let us bring back the determination!!!
Today I will move on an do what I know is best for my family. People may give up on us but I won't give up on us. I will do every possible thing to help my youngest (almost middle child) succeed in everything possible. I will learn that an argument with my three year old is his way of expressing his independence and personality. Instead of arguing back I will discuss the options because why should I be arguing with a three year old?? I'm older and smarter than this!!!
I will be proud of my family and our accomplishments. They are such a big part of my life and I honestly wouldn't change it for anything. I need to see more blessings and be grateful for what we have accomplished and not look at what must be done.
Who cares if the hair dresser cut my hair badly and made my cute pixie cut look like a male hair cut!!! I'm going to rock this look until I grow it out again! I will remind myself that sometimes adding a little mascara or even painting my fingers and toes can make me feel beautiful and feminine and that it's ok to get dolled up for no reason (even if it is to just get peed and pooed on).

I am determination, without it I wouldn't have gotten this far and without it I won't get any further. Let's work together and make the most out of the rest of this year and be the best we can be. It is exhausting and tiresome but so worth the work.

Part 3 - The Aftermath: An Adoption Story

Here is the final post in Paige's 3 part series about her putting her son up for adoption. Thank you so much Paige for sharing your story with our blog! 

Part III—The Aftermath

There were so many tender mercies that happened during my post-partum period and it really reinforced that when God asks you to do impossible things, He will support you through it.  Actually, I could see the blessings when they were happening, but I was too miserable to care.  The appreciation and reinforcement came later, only stronger and in a different way than I experienced it as I lived it.  For example, I bought a puppy while I was pregnant, and even though I was mad at him for not being R when I got home from the hospital (rational, I know), that little dog never left my side while I was recovering from the cesarean and ended up being a huge blessing.  I needed him.  

The first night without R was the hardest.  The social worker came with the “no changing your mind after this” paperwork and with it, he brought me a present from S and K.  They had printed off all of the pictures from the hospital and like 100 more from that afternoon; there was also a scrapbook and all kinds of paper, stickers, and everything I could need to make a beautiful memory book of my time with R.  If I hadn’t already been crying, that totally would have made me cry!  Also, right before he came with the paperwork, a friend showed up with TCBY; he sat with me while I signed the papers, and then watched a movie with me—by that I mean he kept me company while I cried and cried and cried.

Because of the state laws, S, K and the boys had to stay in my state for two weeks after the birth.  They came to visit a few times, and that was another huge blessing.  I mean who wants to stop seeing their baby cold-turkey?  My whole family enjoyed that extra time and it was a good transition for me from “my baby” to “their baby,” even though he was always their baby.  I remember very well the last time I got to see him that trip.  K let me have a little alone time with him, so I took him up to my room, kind of curled up in a ball around him, and sang James Taylor’s “You’ve Got a Friend” to him.  My daddy use to sing my sisters and I to sleep with that one.  Taking him downstairs after that was almost as hard as handing him over at the hospital.  No words.

Over the next few months, I got to see R four or five times.  I really needed to see him that much in the beginning.  Even though I’ve only seen him a couple of times since he was one, not a day goes by that I don’t think about him and wonder what he’s doing and if he’s happy.  I love him just as much as I love my other children.  I hope he never doubts that and that some day he will understand that I made the decision I did because I love him.  Having my other children has definitely helped me heal; my arms don’t physically ache from being empty anymore.  I’m also pretty sure I appreciate my children more than I would have, and that makes me a better mother than I would have been without this experience.  So I guess that is the silver lining.  But like the death of a loved one, adoption for a birth mother is something that you don’t get over, you just get used to it.  

So there it is, my first and maybe only attempt to tell our adoption story.  I know I didn’t do it justice, that the pictures and feelings in my head and heart can’t really be communicated.  I guess if you get anything out of my story, I would want it to be that God cares about us individually.  He guides us to make the best decisions for our lives and our children’s lives, He puts specific people in our paths for a reason, He shows us love, kindness, and mercy when we need it most, He heals us, and He loves families.

Part 2 - The Birth: An Adoption Story

Here is part 2 of Paige's story!

Part II—The Birth

S and K came to stay with us for a few days before R was born.  After seeing Monica and Chandler (Friends) being there when their babies were born, I really wanted R’s family there when he was born.  I wanted him to come straight out and have K, his mother, be the first person he saw.  I was adopted and my birth parents also came to be an extra support for me.  The moms all got our nails done, we went swimming, and had a big pizza party with everyone the night before the induction.  That extra time with them was so reassuring.  The next morning at around 6am, my mom, K, and I went to the hospital to start the induction.  We knew it would take a while, so we told everyone else to just come and go as they pleased.  Daddy was on-call the night before, so when he got off work, he came still in scrubs and slept on the little couch in my room.  S and their little boy came to visit for a while.  And then my birth parents were there for most of it.  My birth father kept taking pictures and videos during conrractions, which I did not love, but I’m glad I have them now.  My birth mom, wow.  I can’t imagine, knowing what this feels like, how hard it was for her to sit there and watch me do it.  But she did, and to me at least, the whole day felt like R’s birthday party.  

I’m not going to talk about the labor part, because I feel like I was given bad advice and my medical decisions were made for me.  Needless to say, after more than twelve hours of labor, I was wheeled back to the OR for a cesarean.  It was really hard to pick who should go with me.  I wanted my mom.  But I also still wanted K to be the first person R saw.  K was very sweet and made the decision for me so that I wouldn’t have to feel guilty choosing my mom.  I have to give my mom credit here, she was a spectacular doula, even though we didn’t even know what a doula was then!  She stroked my hair which helped keep me calm, noticed and told them I was cold so I could get the heaters on, put a washcloth on my head and asked for Zofran when I was nauseous, she brought R over to see me as soon as she could, and gave me a play-by-play until then.  She did everything she could to make a really scary birth experience as comfortable and happy as it could be.  And then she took R out to meet his parents.  I wish so bad I could have been there for that and I’m so glad there are lots of pictures.  I especially love one of S with tears in his eyes as he held R for the first time.

I got to hold R for the first time in recovery.  I don’t do well with anesthesia and was still pretty loopy, so I don’t remember much.  I remember being shocked by how gorgeous he was, and then telling mom I was going to throw-up and asking if I should lean over the edge of the bed or just puke in my lap?  She popped up, grabbed R, then ran around the room like a crazy looking for a bucket or something, and finally handed me a bedpan just in time!  That memory still makes me giggle.  The only other thing I remember from the rest of the night was showing all of the nurses a picture of R on my phone every time they came in to take my vitals.  He was the most beautiful baby ever and they NEEDED to see him!

The rest of the hospital stay was pure bliss, the calm before the storm.  I knew what I was going to have to do, but for those few days, he was mine and I was pretending he always would be.  I hardly slept because I just wanted to look at him and memorize every detail of his beautiful little face.  Friends came to visit and I was so thrilled to show R off; now though, I am so thankful for the love they showed me then and in the weeks that followed when I felt like the world was ending.  The last night, I didn’t sleep for even a minute.  I didn’t want our time to be over, I didn’t want to let him go.

All too soon, the sun came up and it was time to go.  My sweet mom packed up my stuff for me so I could hold R as long as I could.  She took a couple of pictures too, and to this day, it’s too painful to keep them but I could never let them go.  Up until that point, everything with S, K, and the adoption agency had been very casual, so it kind of felt like jumping into a cold swimming pool when the man from the agency came in with paperwork and did a little ceremony.  I can see how that might bring closure for some moms and might feel like a “Once upon a time. . .” beginning for the new family, but I hate goodbyes and making it formal like that made that one even worse.  I wanted to spend some time together like we had been, and then go our separate ways except R would be theirs.  I said my goodbyes, and just like that, he was gone.

Part 1-The Decisions: An Adoption Story

Becca here! My wonderful sister Paige, was brave enough to write about putting her son up for adoption. This is going to be a 3 part series that will be posted over the next 3 days. Thank you so much Paige for sharing this for the world to see, love you!

I have never put our story down in words.  It is something so sacred to me that I just never could.  How do you give your baby to someone else to raise?  Explaining this feels like trying to write a Ph.D. dissertation with a kindergarten vocabulary.  You can try, but it’s not going to be very good.  So here we go: 

Part I—The Decisions

I looked down at the little stick, knowing without a doubt in my mind that it would be negative.  It wasn’t.  Before any of the questions, fears, or doubts came, the first thing I remember feeling was love.  It was warm and all-encompassing, and peaceful.  I walked out of the bathroom, still holding the stick, with a stunned look on my face.  My roommate was standing right there; she took one look at me and grabbed the stick out of my hand.  Of all of the people on this planet, she was who I needed right then—the perfect blend of “Oh my gosh, you’re having a baby!!!” and “Oh my gosh, what the heck are you going to do!?!”  My boyfriend, B, was coming to pick me up for church, so we decided I would take another test and talk to him then if I needed to.  

I really don’t remember much about that day besides the initial lovey feelings, the fact that B was in a suit when I told him, and the anxiety as I procrastinated telling my parents.  I finally got up the nerve to call them around 11pm their time.  I called Daddy because I hoped he would react in a semi-supportive way, but he hung up on me and that was pretty jarring.  In retrospect, that was the right thing to do—he didn’t say anything hurtful with that initial surprise and disappointment—but at the time, it felt like a slap in the face.  

He and my mom called back the next day and we all talked about what to do.  Abortion was never an option.  Never.  B and I decided to get married, because that’s what you’re “supposed to” do.  I had already turned down two proposals from him before the pregnancy, I knew it wasn’t right, but now that there was a baby involved I was going to do it anyway because I wanted that baby.  By the time I went home for Christmas, there was no more denying it: marrying B was not what God wanted for my child and my life.  I still wanted to parent my baby though, so I announced that that’s what I was going to do.  My parents thought I should place the baby for adoption and dragged me to counseling and my church’s social services counselor over break.  I was prideful and I didn’t hear a word of it.  “Some girls have a hard time as a single 19 year-old mom, but that’s not me.”  “I can do this by myself, I don’t need a man,” were my thoughts.  I made plans to move back home until I had the baby to get a little space from B. 

This part, I have the hardest time explaining: over the next two weeks, my heart changed.  Words don’t exist for what I felt.  I can’t tell you a specific thought or experience or even day when it all changed because it wasn’t a conscious decision.  It was literally my heart did a super slow 180 and, instead of wanting what I wanted for us, I wanted what Heavenly Father wanted for us: adoption.  Never for one second from then until now have I liked that that’s what God wanted.  That was never and still isn’t what I want.  But more than I want what I want, I want what He wants, especially for the precious little person that was growing inside of me and was now my responsibility.

When I got home, I met with the counselor and got started finding my sweetheart’s family.  I wanted everything for him.  Most important, I wanted an open adoption.  That wasn’t done then, so I knew that was going to be tricky.  I trusted God though that if He was going to require this sacrifice, He would make a way for me to watch my baby grow up.  I wanted him to have siblings, I wanted them to be in the South so I could see him sometimes, and I wanted him to have a mom home with him like my mom was.  There were a hundred other things, but those were my biggies.  I found his family relatively early in my search, but they didn’t live in the South, so I put their names on my “maybe” list.  They had a little boy already, and from reading their profile I felt like they really loved each other, the kind of love I wanted modeled for my child.  I found three or four other profiles that had everything I wanted, so I took those in to the agency and asked them to e-mail them and ask about open adoption.

A week or two later, I had an ultrasound and they printed off some pictures for me.  I think I even brought them to my appointment to show the social worker, I was so excited about my little!  There was one picture of his feet, a view from the bottom, which was especially sweet to me.  At the appointment, I was devastated to hear that none of my families were agreeable to an open adoption.  Seriously devastated.  Like I cried in the appointment.  I went home and started my search all over again.  I started with my “maybe” list, looking a little more in detail at those families.  His family, S and K, had a website with pictures for their older son’s birth mother and prospective parents to look at.  I opened the page and immediately got goosebumps.  The picture at the top of the page was S and K’s hands and their son’s feet in exactly the same position as the ultrasound picture of my baby.  I think I knew then that they were his family, so I kept looking at their pictures and falling in love with them.  I prayed and felt like that was confirmed, but I didn’t want to let myself admit it until I knew their feelings about open adoption.  The agency e-mailed them and they would consider it!!!  I was flooded with relief!  I had found them and that I was going to get everything that was important to me (K is from the South, so he might not live here, but he has a Southern mother and that is more than good enough for me).  We started communicating and even met once during the pregnancy.  K was such a source of comfort during that difficult time and I loved getting to know her and felt like she was the grown-up version of who I wanted to be.  I didn’t really get to know S well at the time, but from my interactions with him since, he reminds me of my Daddy.  That is literally the highest praise I could give to any man.  Placing your baby with another family to raise is the worst, but knowing S and K are his family makes it infinitely easier.