Saying "I miss her" is an understatement.

Sometimes, it doesn't feel real. Sometimes, I feel like the last nine months were some sort of crazy wierd dream, and I woke up. It scares me. I ask myself, did all that really happen? Did I really do that? Was I ever really pregnant and gave birth and held that pretty little baby? I have a hard time believing it, it's almost surreal. Like it was a very long detailed book that I read in one sitting.

Or sometimes, I completely forget. I forget it all happened, like my brain pretends it never did. And then I look at my stomach and see the scars from the stretch marks, and I remember. 

But the worst are the times that it feels like it's still happening. The times that as I wake up in the morning and I think she's still there, inside me. I think I feel her move, I go to touch my stomach...and she's not there. I used to fall asleep with my hand under my shirt on my stomach, because I liked to feel her kicking, and I still do it out of habit. Occasionally, I think I hear her cry. It was really bad right after I placed her and left the hospital. I barely felt functional that evening, partially from the drugs, and partially from the shock of the initial separation. I will think I hear her cry, and sort of look for her and then remember she isn't here anymore. And then comes the brief moments of despair before I remind myself why I did what I did.

All of the above are just part of the healing process, my mind and heart and body are all still trying to balance eachother and figure out what exactly just happened to me. It will get better with time, but right now I just have to take it day by day and try make it through. I haven't failed yet, but I still pray everyday for strength. I'll never stop missing her, but I'll get used to it. The hurt is more than worth it to know she is with her eternal family.