December 27th

December 27th is a bittersweet day for me.  It was on this day in 1996 that my sweet, beautiful niece, Nikki, was born.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  I drove my sister and Nikki's dad to the hospital in my truck because James didn't have a car and Gayle certainly didn't feel up to driving.  My mom and dad were both still at work, and Tony and Drew (my nephews, the new big brothers) were still at the babysitter's house.  I remember waiting in the hospital waiting room for a few hours before my mom arrived with the boys.  Then I remember being sent home to put the boys to bed even though I REALLY wanted to be there when my niece arrived (and my sister wanted me there too, but James freaked at the last minute and begged my mom to stay instead since she "knew what she was doing").  So, with assurances from the doctor that it would be several hours, I left with the boys, drove the half hour home, and arrived there to find a message saying our sweet girl had arrived-20 minutes after I left.  Regardless, I adored that child from the moment I laid eyes on her.  She was undeniably my girl.  While my sister was recovering, I walked the floor for hours with Nikki trying to calm her colic and crying.  I took her to my college classes a few days when my sister wasn't feeling up to taking care of her.  I took her any time and every place my sister would let me.  She was as much like a daughter to me as a niece.  So, on December 27th, I remember her birth and all of her birthdays.  Then I remember the tragic accident that took her and my sister from us far too soon.

Fast forward to 2007: I was bound and determined to make more happy memories on December 27th, so that's when we scheduled a trip to Guatemala.  On that day, my world changed forever.  It was the day I met my first child-my daughter-in a hotel lobby in Guatemala City.  She was tiny-just 3 months old and barely 8 pounds-and perfect.  She gave me a giant smile the second her foster mom handed her to me and it was, again, love at first sight.  I spent a blissful week holding my daughter, loving her, playing with her, laughing with her, and falling ever more hopelessly in love with this little human being I could hardly believe was my daughter.  At the end of the week, it was so hard to leave her there.  But, I already had plans to return 4 weeks later to visit her again. She was happy enough to go back to her foster mom, and I knew they were taking good care of her. December 27th was a happy day yet again.  Then, just a few weeks later, we found out our beautiful girl had again, tragically, been taken from us far too soon when she died in her sleep.  I don't even know how we got through that time in our lives.  I don't really remember much about it other than it hurt worse than anything  I have ever felt before or since.  I know that I was sad, angry, and probably not very pleasant to be around. It seemed too cruel that another little girl was ripped from my life far too young.

So, December 27th is a bittersweet day.  Sweet because it was the day when I met 2 of the most important people in my life.  Bitter because both of them were gone long before I was ready to let them go.  But, as with all things, time has given me a new perspective.  If my sweet niece and sister were here, I would not have the privilege of raising my nephews.  And if we had not had our special connection to Ariana and Guatemala, we might not have been chosen as Ben's parents.  And if we had not worked with the agency for Ben's adoption, we would likely not ever have heard about our sweet Nico.  So, with a few years of time and a lot of changes, I've come to accept that bittersweet is not always a bad way to feel.