Dear Baby Girl

It's been 6 months since you came into my life.  I should say "our" lives, but my husband is off at a yoga class with his 16 year old son right now, and you're asleep a hall away, so I mostly think of you as mine.  I wanted you ... more than anything.  I couldn't breathe anymore.  I was tired, bored, lonely, and afraid - death bed afraid - of continuing my life without you.  See, I've never done heroine or had polo ponies, but for me, I had done it ... bought and fucked it all ... and the only thing that was left was you - perfect, pudgy, stinky you. It was a hurricane, baby ... a call from social services, an interview, a meeting with your scary foster mother, and within a week, you were in my house.  My 2 year old chihuahua shook with terror when I brought you home.  I plopped you down for my first diaper change and you stared at me like I was an alien.  I was.  I didn't even like kids enough to babysit when I was younger. I had no idea what I was doing, and you knew.  6 months!  I don't know who I am anymore as I miss the yoga class I had 44 years to take and cannot believe you won't let me watch The Bachelor After The Final Rose in peace!  I love you, sweet angel.  Thank you for shaking up my miserable, perfect cage!