I didn't hurry home. I had gone to a wake with my Mom and Grandpa and we met my Dad for dinner afterwards. It was a local place from my childhood and I was safely ensconced in the people on this planet who have loved me the longest. We sat and talked about a lot of nothing. My Mom's new obsession with LuLaRoe, bowling with Simon, what we will do for the Super Bowl next weekend. My Dad drove me back to their house to get my car and we talked about vacation plans for this summer. It was mundane. It was normal. It was avoidance.
I arrived home to find that Solana was asleep already. Even though I was avoiding it, I was instantly sad. Hubby said she had just gone down and was probably still up but when I knelt beside her crib, she was sound asleep. I missed rocking her to sleep on the last night she was "ours".
I spent a few minutes there on the floor, next to her crib, silently crying. I can't explain why this seems so incredibly sad. She'll be back this weekend and the ones after that and she's going back to Disney World with us and her Dad has already said I'm still her Mom. All signs point to nothing changing except the paperwork of where she resides.
It's just a piece of paper. Oh how many times have I said a piece of paper doesn't matter? Oh but it does...
I don't understand the reaction I am having. I know it's going to be fine. I'm not worried she is unsafe. I'm not worried she'll disappear. This is the best possible solution. But I'm so, so sad.
Maybe this is the feeling you get when the last bits of hope leave your heart?
The baby we never wanted, the one we didn't know we needed. The one who won't stay but will. My Sunshine. My Solana.