It's my "Book-i-versary"!

Growing up identifying myself as a "Writer," of course I dreamed that someday I would write a book.

I just never dreamed it would be this one.

Adopting in America: The Diary of a Mom in Waiting

Then again, I never could write fiction.

Yes this story is true. All of it. And it is my story -- the story of how I set out to become a mom in the usual way, only to find out the hard way that I couldn't. Well, not the usual way, anyway.

Journalist that I always have been, I journaled. Through the tries, the failures, the doctors visits, the science experiments. Then my turn around the corner toward adoption -- and the tries, the failures, the experiments.

And, ultimately, the joy.

And then I blogged. And then I decided one day to post a snippet of what was then just a personal, private journal. Then I got some encouragement. And that began another whole journey filled with tries and failures and experiments.

Then this.

Three years ago today, with my 11-year-old adopted daughter holding one hand, I pressed the "Upload" button on my computer with the other.  Today is my "Book-i-versary."

Three years later, I am a very proud non-Best-Selling Author. I sold a few. Gave away a few more. Still have a few in the back of my car if you want one. Or, it IS still available at Amazon.com and at B&N.com for your Nook.

It's the story of how I went from a woman with a broken heart to a woman with a full heart -- and a daughter -- through hard work, perseverance, stubbornness, a little luck, a lot of prayer and, maybe, a little bit of destiny.

It is my hope that my story might give a little bit of hope to those other women out there who are waiting, hoping, dreaming, yearning for a child to fill their empty arms and the hole in their heart. It can be done. It isn't easy, but it can.

If you have (or plan to) read the book, here are a few updates:

Lora Leigh is a beautiful, bright, creative young woman who can draw, sing and write beautifully. She has been the light of my life, my ultimate joy. I cannot imagine my life without her in it.  (And she did inspire me to create two children's stories!) She is well-adjusted to her adoption. She says she likes knowing who her people are and where they are. But she doesn't discuss it much. We do celebrate her adoption anniversary -- April 15th -- which we call simply, "Lora Day."

We are still in touch with her first family.  Her first mother Gail, aunts, uncles and a host of cousins all follow her with my regular Facebook updates and this blog. Her sister Ashlee has grown into a beautiful young woman. We all were there when she graduated from high school last year. We still have semi-regular visits.

Kimberly has not led a wonderful life. Facebook stalker that I can be, I found her a few years ago and was happy to see that her daughter Samantha  -- the baby we would have named Elle --  looked to be a healthy, normal, well-cared for child. There also was a younger boy in the photographs.

Then tragedy struck. One day I went to check up on them and saw photos of Samantha in a hospital bed, surrounded by tubes and machines. She and her family had been riding bicycles when she had some sort of accident. She did not survive.

I wrote at the time that perhaps this was all part of the plan. Perhaps Samantha was supposed to stay with her mother because she wasn't going to be here for very long.  That makes me feel a little better, anyway.

We wonder if this is they way it was all supposed to be all along. If I had been able to get pregnant, I would not have my girl. I am forever grateful that Gail chose us. From the day she called us -- completely out of the blue! -- my heart told me there was a reason. I knew it. Marty told me I was crazy, but I knew it. It was all meant to be.

The things you remember

It's strange, the things you remember.

I remember standing in my closet that January day, staring at my clothes and asking myself, "What does one wear to the birth of one's child?"

I remember wearing the same clothes for three days because my silly husband forgot to put my bag in the car. My makeup case, too.

I remember thinking we would be there for a long time, so I remember packing a tote bag with my needlepoint, cards, books, newspapers -- things to wile away the time. I never touched any of it.

I remember the drive from Norco to Houma. Highway 90 was under construction and down to one lane both ways. We were stuck behind a State Trooper the whole way.

I remember trying very hard to read the newspaper on the way, and failing.

I remember sending Marty off to run errands while we waited. We had blown a tire a few days before and he had brought it to Sears to get it fixed. He also needed to go cash his paycheck.

I remember my brother showing up to wait with me. I didn't know then that it would be one of the last times I would ever see him. I remember my niece showing up to wait with me too.

I remember frantically calling Marty to come back to the hospital because he was about to miss it.

I remember standing outside the doors to the maternity ward, waiting, praying, not breathing at all. I remember waiting for Marty to get back, still afraid he would miss it.

I remember the nurse coming out of her room carrying a huge load of linens and signalling me with just her head, "Come on. Go on in." No words were said.

I remember walking into the room and seeing Gail holding this little bundle as a nurse smoothed the new linens on the bed, being so afraid I would hear her say, "Go away. I've changed my mind. I can't give her to you."

Instead, I remember hearing her say, "Are you ready to hold your daughter?"

Then the nurse saying, "Wash your hands first!"

I remember everyone in the room crying. Even me.

I remember handing her back to the nurse, oh so reluctantly, and thinking, "Doesn't she understand how long it took me to get here?"

I remember dying to get to the payphones to call everyone. (We had cell phones, but you weren't allowed to use them in hospitals back then.)

I remember spending the rest of the morning waiting to see her again, hoping the nurses understood who we were and why we were there (they did).

I remember hours later, walking into the little room they found us in the back of the NICU, and seeing our baby in the warmer.  I remember sitting there and sticking our hands in the holes, one of us taking her hand and one of us taking her foot.

I remember the nurse coming in and asking if we had held her yet. When we said no, she scooped her out of the warmer and handed her to me.

I remember Marty having to run to the car to get the camera. And I remember Marty grabbing a nurse to take our picture, and recognizing an old high school friend.

And I remember this joy.

It's been almost 13 years since the day my daughter was born, in the same hospital where I was born, to another woman. It's been 13 years since her birth mother --  her first mother -- put her into my arms and turned me from a heart-broken woman battling six years of infertility into a mom.

And I will never, ever forget it.

November is National Adoption Awareness Month.