I was put on this earth to be Sami's mother

It seems as though everyone in the world knows the size of full-term infants. Everywhere I go, people stop me to admire Sami. Of course, the obvious question is always, "How old is she?" And when I share her age, I always get the response of something like "Wow, she's so tiny! Was she a preemie?" It's funny to me because in the past if I asked someone how old their baby was, I never would have second-guessed their answer and question the child's age. I don't think I would have noticed if the baby looked small for his or her age. But I guess to parents of newborn babies, when they see a 9-pound baby and then find out this baby is almost 3 and a half months old, they come to the logical conclusion that the child must have been a preemie. This happened to me again when I was at Walmart on Tuesday. But this time, I had an interesting conversation with the woman who stopped me while standing on line at the popular discount store. She had a baby that was born at only 25 weeks gestation, who was 2 pounds when he was born. He was in the NICU for three long months, and needed help breathing most of that time. Her son is now 9 months old and weighs 17 pounds. She said he is finally this month on the chart. (Sami is still not yet on the chart.) But hearing her plight made me grateful that Sami never needed help breathing, and that she was only in the NICU for 13 days (although as some of you may remember, it felt like an eternity to me.)

I am frustrated at the delay we are facing in the adoption process. There is a hold-up at the courts with officially terminating Elizabeth's parental rights. Apparently the process was changed a bit, and there were lay-offs, so everything has been slowed down. My attorney tells me we have absolutely nothing to worry about, that our case is a very simple one, and that it's just a matter of time. I know this is true, but I would still feel so much better once Sami is officially ours. At present, we are officially just her legal guardians. Her legal name is not even Samantha Leah. It's "Baby Girl." The worst part is that there is no estimate of time right now as to when Elizabeth's rights will be terminated; my attorney says "it's a black hole," when I ask her for an estimate. And once Elizabeth's rights are terminated, there is a 30-day minimum before we can have our court date to finalize the adoption. This, of course, also delays when we can have the conversion and baby naming, because the adoption needs to be legally finalized before those things can take place. 2011 is also the last year of the large adoption tax credit, which is just one more reason we hope the adoption will be finalized this year.

On Monday, I heard some sad news about Elizabeth. She continued to have our financial support through January. And now, only two weeks into February, she is already broke, and is going to be evicted from her apartment. She is in the hospital with an eye infection that is so bad she is on IV antibiotics, and is in danger of losing vision permanently in one of her eyes. I had hoped that after 9 months of financial support from us, not to mention the four times she moved, the dental work she needed, etc. etc. etc., Liz would have been able to get her life on track once she was on her own. Unfortunately, that did not happen. I do not know what she will do at this point. She might move up north where her sister resides. I feel terrible about her situation. I know what many of you think of her, or of anyone who would accept complete financial support and then give their child up for adoption-especially someone who has done this more than once–but to me, Liz holds a spot in my heart, and she always will. She gave us Sami. Yes, she had her rent, bills and everything else provided for nine months, but she still gave birth to a beautiful little girl, and then placed her into my arms.

Sami is starting to sleep better at night. The days are still challenging, but she is averaging about six solid hours of sleep at night, which feels like a luxury after three months of no sleep. (Although tonight is not one of those nights, which is why I am awake writing at 2:30 a.m. between her bouts of crying.) Sami is also interacting so much now, and although she still has her days of relentless crying and screaming, she also smiles, laughs a lot now. Every time I see her smile, my heart melts. And when I hear her laugh, I think my heart actually stops for a second. Sami has quickly become the light of my life. I feel as though I live for her, and that I was put on this earth to be her mother.