It’s my birthday. I’m not saying that because I want oodles of birthday wishes, but because it makes me sort of sad.
I’m 34 today. I know that in the world of infertility and adoption, that isn’t very old at all. In fact, I’m one of the younger adoptive mothers working with our lawyer. But I really thought, one year ago today, I’d be a mother today.
And I’m not.
I realize I’m going to be, but I’m not. And being “paper pregnant” isn’t like being “real pregnant.” I have no proof that I’m going to be a mother. So today I’m sad. Yes, I have some hope because we’re on the list.
But it’s not such a happy birthday.