She's Mine

   I was terrified. We had talked for years about having kids, only to face continued disappointments. When the idea of adoption was discussed as a couple, it sounded like a good idea. But there I was, standing in the delivery room as another woman was about to give birth to a child. Would I love her as my own? Would I feel that connection that so many parents talk about? I knew my wife would love her. But I don't have that motherly instinct. I'm awkward around kids. My nieces and nephews were all scared of me when they were little. So, when the doctor told our birth mom to push, I asked myself, "Will she really be mine?"

   When Sheila and I first met, I took her to a bar and pool hall for our first date. It was dark and musty, and smelled of cigarette smoke. The floor had sticky spots from spilled beers that squeaked under my shoes as I walked around the pool table lining up my next shot. We didn't drink. We didn't smoke. I really didn't even play pool on a regular occasion. But I was tired of girls who were uncomfortable around anyone that wasn't a member of my church. It felt snotty. So, when I asked Sheila out, I took her to a place that was completely out of our comfort zone to see how she would react.

   Sheila and I had a great time at the bar. She never complained of the environment and didn't make any snarky judgments about anyone or anything. By the time I was driving her home I found myself asking her deep questions that were extremely inappropriate for a first date. "Do you want kids some day?" How many kids would you want?" What would you do if you ever had a kid that was handicapped?" "What if you couldn't have kids.... Would you ever consider adoption?"

   My invasive interrogation was received with surprising warmth. She expressed that she had wondered many of the same things. She'd always thought about what it would be like to have kids and what she would do if there was ever trouble having a family. We agreed on most things and spoke in depth about the prospects of adoption and the joy it would be to bring a child into your home that needed love and care. By all accounts, Sheila's answers were more than satisfactory to my youthfully mistaken boldness.

   I was in college when Sheila and I began dating. We met in the fall of 2003 and we were married by spring of 2004. I always laughed at people who got married quickly. It's a common occurrence within my church to get married quickly after serving a mission. But after a few bad relationships, I was committed to staying uncommitted to anyone. To my dismay, there was something special about Sheila and I fell in love with her immediately. I found myself eager to break my commitment to the bachelor life.

   

   During our engagement we spoke often of future plans. Though we both wanted kids, we agreed it would be wise to wait at least 5 years before considering starting a family. Not long after being sealed in the Salt lake City Temple, I found myself thinking often about having kids. We had agreed to wait, so I was deliberate not to talk about those thoughts with Sheila. But despite my best efforts, the thoughts became more and more evident. Perhaps without truly considering my words, I finally opened up to Sheila and expressed that I was feeling prompted that we should start trying to have kids. Her reply was candid and sweet; "It's about time, I've been feeling that way for a while."

6 Months into our marriage, just a teensy bit short of the full 5 years, we excitedly began trying to build a family.

   As poor college students, we set aside what little money we could to buy all things baby. We loved shopping at the Carter's outlet for clothes. We "invested" in baby toys and furniture and tried to prepare our home for the perfect little bumpkin we imagined in our minds. Sheila made baby blankets and quilts and we bought stuffed animals every time we went on vacation. The "trying" to make a baby was certainly fun, and the idea of kids in the future kept us out of debt. We made good choices with our money and reminded ourselves that we dreamt of being able to have Sheila be a stay-at-home mom.

   Each month we counted the days to see if Sheila would miss her period. Everytime she was late, we'd rush to the store to buy a box of pregnancy tests. Each time we tested, they came back negative. We talked to the doctor as disappointment mounted, but she advised us that the depoprovera birth control shot Sheila started taking when we got married could delay her body's ability to reset and be fertile. With disappointment month after month, we chalked it up to the birth control shot still wearing off in her system.

   As more time passed, we became more deliberate. We read up about ovulation cycles and calendaring. We planned our intimacy on the calendar and spaced things out to ensure proper build-up on my end. I suppose some might think that sex on the calendar is pretty awesome for a man. "ahem, oh honey dearest... its that time again... we need to stick to the schedule. The calendar doesn't lie... lets go bang things out for posterity sakes." Sounds great for sure, but when you lose the spontaneity, it kind of loses its luster. Don't get me wrong, I suffered through my duties with a smile on my face, but it changed the whole dynamic.

   After a few years and still no positive tests, we were clearly worried. We started seeing fertility doctors to check our hormone levels. It was discovered that Sheila's insides were pretty torn up from a near death illness resulting in some pretty major surgeries shortly before we met. We also found that my sperm count was a little low and could potentially make things a little more difficult.

   With this new information, we now focused our efforts more than ever before. Our sexual encounters became acrobatics as we tried to hold certain positioning that was sure to foster better egg penetration. We watched our diets. I wore loose fitting pants and kept my downstairs as cold as possible at all times. We followed everything the doctors told us or we read about online. And suddenly, after nearly 5 years, Sheila peed out a positive pregnancy test.

Emotions were high as we saw the 2 blue stripes telling us we were going to be parents. After all this time and all this effort, it had finally paid off. Wanting to tell everyone we knew, we decided to make sure it was real by buying one more test. That would confirm that we could celebrate and start preparing for a family.

   The second test came back negative. How could this be? We weren't buying the cheap tests. There has to be a mistake. We went back and bought another box of tests. Again, they came back negative. Our hearts sank as we realized it was a false alarm. No pregnancy. No baby. No one to tell.

   Life was getting stressful at this point. Staying out of debt was getting harder and harder. With each disappointing month, we added to our collection of baby supplies, and still no baby.

   And that's when things took a turn. Without realizing our emotional state, we threw our hands in the air and caution to the wind. We started buying things we wanted and things we couldn't afford by using credit. We bought a small SUV that was loaded with all the bells and whistles.

We continued trying for kids, but we started filling our time and thoughts with running and vacations. We scheduled trips around places where we wanted to run half-marathons.

   Our debts slowly increased and our minds slowly numbed to the thought of where we were in life. These times weren't bad by any means, in fact they were actually quite fun. But many of the behaviors were more about masking the depression than they were about living life.

   At some point during our running phase, we learned about Invitro Fertilization. The cost was overwhelming but someone pointed us towards an application for sponsorship. We talked it over, submitted our application, and waited for our dreams to come true.

   We were overjoyed when we found out that we had qualified for the sponsorship. Sure we'd still have to pay for the medications and a few appointments, but the big expenses would all be covered.

Our Invitro process consisted of several appointments with the doctor, strict dieting, and lots of shots. I became very proficient at sticking needles into Sheila's tummy and rear. Despite the little pokes, we were both overjoyed at our newly revived hope.

   The shots are intended to increase the number of eggs that the woman produces so there are more viable specimens for insemination. After a few weeks of renewed excitement, lots of shots and healthy dieting, we awaited to see how many eggs we were working with. Like so many times before, we were greeted with disappointment. Sheila had not produced enough viable eggs to proceed and we had to abandon the regimen and consider starting over.

   Without skipping a beat, we went right back at it with higher doses of medications and lots of fervent prayers. We were convinced this was going to work. The success rates were relatively high. We were good people and we could provide a loving home for a child. Sure she hadn't produced enough eggs this round, but she did produce some. With increased meds, her body would be forced to deliver the goods. We were in control and we were going to make a baby. The excitement was almost too much to contain.

   When the 2nd regimen was over and it was time to meet with the doctor, we meticulously planned our work schedules to accommodate the ensuing bed rest she would surely need for the next stages of this process.

   The way it works is, if you have enough eggs, the doctors will extract them immediately. Then they take the acquired sperm and inject it into the eggs. They let those grow for a short time, and then they place the new embryos back into the woman's body. A decision must be made as to how many of the embryos you want to grow. It's a gamble of sorts. Place 2 and you may lose 1 or possibly end up with twins. Place 3 and you may lose 1 or 2 or possibly end up with triplets. Place only 1 and it may take or you could possibly lose that 1 and the process would be over. You just don't know what will happen, so you blow a kiss in your hands and roll the dice.

   Full of excitement, the doctor brought us into the procedure room and began the ultrasound. With warm jelly glazed across her tummy, the magic ultrasound wand skated effortlessly around her navel. The doctor squinted a few times, paused occasionally, stroked the keys on the keyboard to make notes and take measurements. And then, he spoke.

   Success!!! There were just enough eggs to give this thing a try! We celebrated quietly as the process was explained. With so much excitement playing out in my mind, the doctor's instructions sounded similar to Charlie Brown's mom speaking; Nevertheless, we were ready to go. The eggs were removed, fertilized, grown and ready to be planted back inside Sheila's tummy. The decision was made to place 2 healthy embryos in the hopes of having twins. We floated out of the office on clouds, soaring high as a kite with an ultrasound picture in hand of our new baby embryos. We were going to be parents!

   Sheila took time off work as she was now ordered to bed rest for a week. I remember how fun it was to touch her belly and think about our babies growing inside. At night, when it was time for bed, I'd lay my head on her lap and sing songs to our babies. We'd talk lovingly to her tummy and tell our babies all about how excited we were to meet them. I'd say little prayers with my lips to her tummy so the babies could hear. Sometimes we placed headphones on her tummy and played beautiful music. All along believing we would be the best parents these baby embryos could ever have. We came up with names for boys; Conor, Carson or Carter, as well as names for girls; Hannah or Hailey. We made bets on what we would have and who we thought they might look like. We set the ultrasound picture on top of the big old box tv in the family room and kissed it each day. It was a very exciting time full of hope, faith and love.

   When the time finally came to see the doctor and confirm how many embryos were growing inside, we wondered if it would be one or possibly two babies. We'd need 2 of everything. We were glad we had planned ahead and already purchased enough for one child. We were wise, we were ahead of everyone else, and we were in control.

  We were so certain that Sheila was pregnant that we bypassed the in-office pregnancy test.  Sheila worked at a hospital at the time so she decided to just go get a pregnancy test while she was working.  The results came back via telephone while Sheila was sitting at her work desk. 

   Not pregnant. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Not pregnant. Her world turned upside down with 2 words. She could hardly hold herself together. She fought back the tears as best she could but they just wouldn't stop. Her friend and coworker finally pulled her away so they could sit and talk. Her boss sent her home to grieve.

   It was hard to breathe when Sheila called me at work to tell me the news. We were both in shock. I left work early to go home and comfort my wife. We wept together.

   This wasn't possible. There's no way this didn't work. We did everything right. We'd been trying for so long. We'd been praying and had so many others praying for us. There had to be a mistake. We had faith. We had science. What else was there?

   But despite our pleas with reality, the process had failed. There were no babies to celebrate. There was no joy to be felt. We were not going to be parents. And we believed we were going to be all alone forever.

   Despair found a warm place to call home within our broken hearts. We sat helpless in an empty apartment full of empty baby clothes and neatly folded baby blankets. Though we tried to hold our heads high and move forward with hope, a dark cloud loomed everywhere we went. We got tired of people asking us about pregnancy. We tried to be happy for friends each time they announced they were pregnant, but we were hiding our jealously. I'm certain we did not always hide our feelings well and soon we found that people avoided telling us when they were pregnant. They felt bad for us. They pitied us. They didn't want to make us feel bad. But that made us even more upset. Looking back, they honestly couldn't win no matter what they did. But that's because it really had nothing to do with them or their joys. Inside, we were broken and we didn't know if we'd ever be fixed.

   As time pressed forward, discussions began to arise regarding adoption. We had entertained the topic all along, but suddenly it was becoming a real consideration.

    Let me tell you, it’s one thing to say you would be willing to adopt.  It sounds nice.  It sounds like the right thing to do and a wonderful blessing, but it’s a completely different thing to be in a position to actually be considering adoption.  The more we talked and the more we learned, the more it became a legitimate option.  We found ourselves taking classes through LDS Family Services investigating adoption. It didn't happen overnight. We still thought we might be able to try again with the IVF. We no longer qualified for the sponsorship so the cost was a major concern. We still thought there was a chance we might magically get pregnant. So we dragged our feet for about 3 years before finally taking the next steps.

   Adoption is strange. It feels like a meat market and you're the one on sale. You pay a photographer to take photos that make you look like loving and wonderful prospective parents. You write short stories about you and your wife telling the details of who you are and why you want children. You provide a short explanation of your hobbies and interests and what you hope for in a child. This information goes into a database and even a literal 3-ring binder. The birth moms can search your profile online and peruse the menu of candidates. The search can even be narrowed by preference: Age of couple adopting. Race. Education level. Hobbies. State. Income, and so much more.  As you create your profile you have to be an open book.  You divulge everything about yourself in hopes that some small detail will appeal to the online shopper.

   Each night we anxiously awaited notifications of interested shoppers. And just like that, we received a call from Ann.

   Ann is the mother of my best friend who was killed in an accident. After he died, his parents sold their home and travelled the country in an RV doing family history. Each year they would return to Utah and stay in a trailer park for a few months. It just so happens, that on this particular visit to Utah they met a girl living in a halfway house who was attending their small church. She was fresh out of prison and had gotten pregnant. She talked about placing her baby for adoption and Ann thought of us right away.

   The circumstances surrounding this encounter between Ann and Noelle were too serendipitous to not be divine. In no time at all we were sitting at the church meeting with Noelle. She was sweet and pretty. She felt she had made a mistake getting pregnant and she knew she needed to place her baby for adoption.

   As Noelle served her time in the halfway house, we met up often. We took her to doctors appointments and the grocery store, often paying for her groceries. We shuttled her around to different jobs and eventually helped her get into her new apartment. As the baby grew inside, we loved seeing her tummy grow. We especially loved going with her for ultrasounds. I remember fondly the moment when I pinned an ultrasound picture above my desk at work. We loved telling everyone that we were going to adopt a little girl. Our families got excited and joined in on the fun of buying baby stuff.

   As the due date drew closer, Sheila and I celebrated that we were finally going to be parents. Best of all, we were going to have a little girl. Exactly what I had wanted all along. But something wasn't right. Something lingered in the back of our minds that left us unsettled. We knew this little girl would be ours. It was divine intervention. My friend in heaven had sent this woman into our path and she would now deliver us a child. So we pushed the doubts away and assured ourselves that faith would deliver us.

   About 4 weeks before she was due, Noelle started expressing doubt. We were on the edge of our seats every time we'd hear from her. I even remember an embarrassing moment when I got up in church to bare my testimony and ask others to pray for us that it would all work out. I practically ran off the stage and out the door fighting back tears.

Just less than 2 weeks before the baby was born, Noelle informed us that she wouldn't be placing her baby for adoption. She was sorry, but her therapist at AA had helped her to understand that she deserved happiness in this life as much as anyone else and she was going to raise her family with her new boyfriend.

   We honestly didn't believe it. We knew in our hearts that this was just a temporary set back, but that little girl was coming home to us.

The baby was born and still she was not ours. But we had faith in divine intervention. Somehow, that baby was coming home to us.

   Time passed and Noelle still hadn't changed her mind. We were certain it would happen soon. We had received answers to prayers. We had faith. We knew the circumstances surrounding our meeting. I held tightly to the ultrasound picture above my desk. Trials aren't' easy and they don't go as planned. This was just a trial before the reward. We had to wait a little longer, but it would all work out.

But life had something else in mind. Reality became clear, and reminded us that sometimes, life just sucks. Despite our firm grasp on hope and faith, it eventually became clear that she wasn't coming home with us.

   That was it. We were done. All our friends and family who supported us throughout this process were devastated when we finally accepted that we weren't going to be parents. I took down the ultrasound picture that was posted above my computer, but I couldn't throw it away. I placed it in my top desk drawer and tried to forget about it. Our friends and family all around continued having babies. I'll never forget sorting through the bins of baby blankets as we determined which ones to keep and which ones to give away as gifts for others. We both had our favorites, and I still remember how much it tore me up inside when I agreed to give away my last favorite baby blanket. I was a grown man hiding in the bathroom so I could weep about finally giving up all hope.

   It was like closing a book in our lives. We had wanted to be parents for so long. We had done everything within our power to make it happen. But in the end, we sat together and concluded that we were not going to have children in this life and it was time to move on. No stories about kids being naughty. No songs about when daddy comes home. No smiles watching our wiggly kids up on the stage messing up their dance moves or singing primary songs at church. No mothers day. No fathers day. No little buddy to help with projects around the house. No hiking pal. No daughter to protect from sleazy boyfriends. No grandchildren. No snuggles in the middle of the night after having a bad dream. Nothing. It was over. I had always dreamed about sitting on the porch of a house in the country. White picket fences. Rocking side by side with my bride, hand in hand, as we watched our grandchildren play in the yard. We had to let it go. And letting go was complete torment to the soul.

It was time to accept that we had to find other things that could bring us lasting joy.

   By the fall of that year, we determined we would launch into the new stages of our reality by going to Hawaii to celebrate our 10 year wedding anniversary coming up in March.

I talked to friends and family about all the best places to visit, where to stay, and what to eat. We booked hotels and scheduled activities with island hopping throughout. We found a good deal for flights online and booked the tickets. We were going to Hawaii and life was going to be ok. We were coming to grips with this idea, and it was starting to sound pretty cool in its own way. Our spirits slowly began to lift and the sun began to shine near our hearts once again.

   And then the phone rang. And I mean literally about 2 hours after I had paid for the plane tickets, my cellphone actually rang. It was LDS family services. Although we had given up on kids, we never actually took our profile down from their site. They told us that a birth mom was interested in us and was due to deliver in February. She wanted to meet us.

   I remember looking at Sheila in disbelief. They weren't serious. We weren't going down this path again were we? We were just starting to pick up the pieces of our shattered dreams and now this?. We thought to ourselves, even if this girl does want to meet us, and even if she did choose us as the adoptive parents, there was no way it would actually happen. We knew better. But, considering the call, we both thought, "What the hell, lets go meet her."

   Meeting Rick and Anna was a little awkward. They sat across from us on a small love seat in the family meeting room at LDS Family Services. Sheila and I sat anxiously as they looked us over carefully. We made some casual conversation and discovered we had a few similar interests. When the meeting ended it was decided that we would meet with them again after they had a chance to meet with some of the other online merchandise that caught their attention.

   Several visits followed over the next month and on Christmas day, Anna called. She wanted to surprise us with the news that she had made her decision and we were going to be the parents of her baby. She was so excited to tell us, and we wanted to be equally as excited to believe her. But our hearts were guarded and our minds would not allow us to believe that this was really going to happen. We never told a soul about meeting Anna and Rick. Never told any family or friends that we were selected as candidates for another adoption. It hurt too much to get others involved. We didn't want to go through the disappointment again with everyone else. Most people don't know what to say when you go through these sorts of things. Some people provide advice. Some try to compare their own situation with yours. Some are oblivious to the things that might be hurtful. Truth is, I don't think there's anything that anyone can say that would be "the right thing to say." When you hurt so much you feel as though your heart is in a million pieces, there aren't any words to stop the pain. More than anything, we just needed people to love us and leave us alone.

   So when Anna told us we had been "selected" we cautiously kept it to ourselves. Being Christmas time and the holiday season, we occasionally lied to friends and family about where we were or why we couldn't be there for an event. We didn't want to tell them we were meeting with a birth mom. Nobody needed to know except us.

   As the time drew closer, Anna had a brief scare with early contractions. We spent time in the hospital with her and tried to be supportive without getting our hopes up. February was just around the corner, but Hawaii was too. We didn't know what would happen.

   At Anna's last appointment prior to her due date, we hoped the doctor would agree to induce her earlier than planned. We wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. Our baby or not our baby, we wanted it to be done so we could finally live life again. To our delight, the doctor scheduled the delivery date early as we had hoped. We were forced to divulge our little secret to our bosses at work. We needed some grace time for last minute PTO requests. When the day finally came, we spent all day with Anna in the hospital waiting for baby to arrive. They told us to sit tight as this could take a long time. After waiting all day, and a quick trip to Taco Bell to satisfy her cravings, by about 9pm, she was finally ready to deliver.

   One of the greatest blessings that Anna provided to me personally, was making the decision that when she delivered the baby, she wanted me to be in the room when it happened. She joked about the awkwardness of basically a strange guy watching her as she pushed a baby from her bloated vagina. But it was her way of trying to continue to break the ice and strengthen the family bond. She felt that if we were going to be the parents, then we needed to be there to experience all the "firsts." The more she talked the more we started thinking that she might actually be serious. We started to let our guard down just enough to consider baby names again. We settled on Brooklyn. We liked the name Brooklyn a lot and there was a young woman in our church that we loved and admired with that name.

   With her legs in the air, the doctor told her to push. I stood at the base of the bed, a little to the side of the doctor. Sheila stood next to Anna to hold her hand and support her legs when needed. Was this really happening? It had been nearly 10 years since this all began. We had given up all hope. We were planning to go to Hawaii in a month. I questioned in my mind if I had been pushed into this. Did I really want to adopt? Could I really love a baby that wasn't mine? I mean the kind of real love that a parent has, and needs, for their child. It was all happening before my very eyes and it was hard to comprehend the reality of that moment.

   I know some people talk about the miracle of birth as though it's beautiful. And some people talk about how gross and bloody it is. I wasn't sure how I would feel. But watching a child be born was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. There was nothing weird or awkward about the logistics of the process. There were no silly thoughts about seeing naked lady parts. It was simply majestic seeing a child enter this world.

   The delivery happened quickly and soon the baby girl was getting wiped down in the little tray on the table. They handed her to Sheila who placed her on her bare chest and held her close. A small part of me began looking at this child with different eyes. Keep in mind, there was still at least 24 hours of uncertainty before Anna could legally sign the papers and give her away. That reality weighed heavily on my mind. But deep down inside, in a place that had not been seen in a very long time, I felt a sense of assurance. There was an unusual sense that told me, this one was really coming home. This one was mine.

   The hospital gave us our own room and Anna granted us the privilege of having her with us most of our stay. We watched in awe as the nurse gave her her first bath and put on her oversized diaper. Our emotions were raw and we still hadn't told any friends or family. Nobody knew that we were in the hospital with a new baby that might actually be ours. It was gut-wrenching not being able to reach out for support.

   When they asked us for her name we hesitated. We had loved the name Brooklyn, but that wasn't her name. The name Brianna came to mind. We had glossed over that name before, but now it was boldly present in the front of our minds. Not only was it cute, but in a small way, it honored Anna's love for her daughter by being forever a part of Bri"anna".

Anna agreed that we were allowed to choose, and accepted the name we gave her on the birth certificate.

   This was really happening. She was doing all the right things to follow through with her earlier decision to place for adoption. The hours dragged on as we waited for the time to expire that would make it legal to sign.

   Just a few hours before it was time, Anna asked if she could wait til the next morning to sign the paperwork. She needed more time to process.

   That was the longest night of my life. Hands down. No question. We had never been more tired and emotionally exhausted in our entire lives. We barely slept a wink. Thoughts of another failed adoption riddled our minds. We weren't sure we could survive another blow.

   In the morning, we dressed Brianna in a pink outfit outfit with little baby elephant prints on the feet of the pants. Anna hesitated with great angst and then bravely signed the paperwork making us Brianna's official parents.

   The room was full of emotion. We could hardly hold back our tears. We took lots of pictures and gave lots of hugs. When the time was right, we said our goodbyes and carried Brianna to the car. She was finally coming home.

   The house was empty as we arrived. After all, nobody knew that we were parents. It had been 3 days since the time she went into labor and we were exhausted. We called our close friends Zac and Tiffiny to tell them the news. We made a plan to surprise our parents with our new baby.

   We contacted our parents separately and concocted some lies that would get them to come over right away. We hid cameras in the house to record their reactions when they arrived.

   When I called my dad I had told him that we were concerned because I had gone to the doctor and they found something unusual during my exam. I told him it would be better to tell them the results in person and we would need their support. He and my step-mom rushed over.

 My dad later told me he thought I was going to tell him I had testicular cancer. :) Haha

   Both families were beyond surprised and were overjoyed as they held our new baby girl. They welcomed her to the family with loving arms. More and more friends and family were notified throughout the coming days. Our home was a place of overwhelming love and excitement and it all revolved around this brand new baby girl.

We did not get to go to Hawaii. And we did not get a refund on our tickets. We got so much more.

   Over the years I've actually enjoyed the sleepless nights when she's had bad dreams. The kinked necks from snuggling up til she finally falls asleep when she's sick. Grinning from ear to ear as she sings with the primary on stage at church. Giggling as she does ballet with her friends but seems to miss the steps just a little. Feeling proud as she flips off the diving board and learns to swim. I have a hiking pal that's fearless and a project buddy that loves to help. The good times just keep coming. The stress of parenting still takes its toll on life. But everyday, and I truly mean every single day, I am grateful to be her daddy. My concerns of loving her enough were washed away the moment she was placed in my arms.       
   Above anything I could ever say, express, describe, or joke about. The greatest thing that happened to me throughout this entire journey, the truest gift from my Heavenly Father, was the amount of love that surged through my heart when Brianna became my little girl. There's not a shred of uncertainty anywhere within my entire existence that doesn't completely know, that girl is my daughter. She's a part of me. We're connected in the heavens. She's been written into my soul. She's etched on my heart. I love her beyond any love I ever knew even existed. The depth of love I feel can only be felt by a parent for their child. With the fullest joy and utter certainty, I know she's mine. And yes, she was more than worth the wait.