I did something big today. Really big. I cleaned out the storage room in the basement and filled my car with stuff I don't need anymore. Baby stuff. The bouncy seat, bumbo seat, jumparoo, boppy pillows, portable high chair, infant car seat, first potty seat, etc. Then I drove it over to a place where people turn when they're in need. I know these things are better off in someone's hands who will actually use them. The lady at the facility asked, "how old is your child now?" I said five. She casually replied, "ahhh, school age." Insert knife in heart. "yep," I responded. When she grabbed the baby potty seat she chuckled and joked, "I bet you're glad you're done with that!" Twist said knife in heart. I smiled my fakest smile and reminded myself to breathe. Greg was with me this morning before he hopped on a plane. We loaded up the storage area of this charity and I took a second to look at our stuff. Got a little sad. Not because of the whole I-want-another-baby-but-dont-want-to-risk-it thing. But, because that was MY baby's stuff. I miss that new baby feeling when there's so much hope and happiness and everything is exciting.
This afternoon while meeting with the psychologist who treats Little Bird, I asked him the 3 questions that I ask everyone who works with her from time to time: 1) do you think she'll be a functioning member of society? 2) do you think she's gonna live with me forever or do you think she'll be able to live independently one day? 3) do you think she'll end up in a group home? His answers: 1) I don't know, 2) I can't quite tell yet, 3) I can't tell that, either.
Heavy, right? I walked out of there and couldn't even remember those feelings of hope, happiness, and everything is exciting. Of course, no one could answer those questions for me. Ever. There's no crystal ball. I've heard it a million times. I'm still hunting for it, though. I'm hunting for hope.