As my posts attempt to reflect, being an adoptive first time mother is not so different from being just a plain ole regular first time mother. All of Beatrix's firsts mean the world to me. And I try to be present for her and our family as much as possible. She's the best reason to open my eyes in the morning. I could not love/adore a human more. On a moment to moment, day to day basis, I do not dwell on the fact that I did not birth her. Birthing her would change nothing about the joy she showers onto me each day. But sometimes, just sometimes, I can't help but wish I could have.
My good friend Little Miss Infertile is with me always. Sometimes she's considerate and polite and takes a back seat to my life. But like everyone else, she's not perfect in anyway. And so I have to deal with her, give her some attention, and make sure she knows I haven't forgotten her. Ya follow me...? :)
Raising an adopted child is cake thus far, at least. Love is love and our capacity is infinite. Not being able to produce a child is still hardest hurdle I've had to overcome. One day, I'm sure, in the not so distant future, dear Bea and I will both cry together and hurt together about this unchangeable fact. Because just like I would have loved nothing more than to nurture her during her first nine months of life, I'm sure she will want nothing more than to know that her beginnings were just like everyone else's.
Neither one of us will be able to change who we are. And so it's a hurt that we will both have to live with, to reconcile with, and to find peace with. The perfect beauty of all this loss combined between us is our point of interception. Of all of the points and of all the possible interceptions, this one could not have been more lovely or more right. 
