{Originally published on Lucky Thirteen and Counting}

I used to have a daughter. I don’t have her any more. This is something that is not easy to talk about nor easy to write about, even almost two years later. But today, in the spirit of February, the month of love, I think this is an appropriate day to share some of my feelings.

I love this child. I wanted this child. I made a sacrifice for this child and I still believe I did the right thing. BUT, there are days and times, that cause me to reflect on that decision. I don’t want to tell you I question it, or that I hope I did the right thing. Because honestly, deep in my heart, I KNOW that I made the right decision. But knowing this doesn’t make it easy, or the grief any less, or the loss go away.

When The Ex and I separated Embree was four years old. The Nanny started dating The Ex three weeks later, and I fired her. My kids lost two very important people in a matter of 21 days. Embree took it the hardest. She cried as hard, if not harder, than I did. It was devastating to watch. She loved her nanny. The Nanny started working for me full-time when Embree was one. She was her primary caregiver. When Embree cried, she wanted The Nanny, not me. That loss was substantial to my child. I was not above admitting that.

When The Nanny moved in with The Ex, Embree joined them. She moved in full-time. I couldn’t deny her who and want she wanted. She visited me when they went out. However, it wasn’t me she was visiting, it was the siblings. When I scheduled one-on-one time with her, she wanted the other kids to join us.

We continued life this way for one year. We lived in Utah so I knew what Embree was doing, and I still played a small role in her life. But, when we moved to California everything changed. The Ex and The Nanny were married and having a family of their own. My life was here in California with Brandon and the kids. When Embree came to visit she cried for her “mommy”. It was painful to hear, to see, and to feel. Embree and I both knew she belonged with her dad and her “new mommy”.

I talked to her about what this would entail. Brandon and I wouldn’t be her family any more. Her siblings would still be her brothers and sisters, but I would not be her mom, and Brandon wouldn’t be her stepfather. She understood the best a six-year-old mind could understand. She was thoughtful for a moment and said with confidence, “Yes, I want that.”

I let that be for about two months while I wrapped my head around it. I had many late night conversations with Brandon about the ramifications of such a huge decision. Would Embree regret this when she was older? Would she see the opportunities her half siblings were having and want the same thing? How would she feel about being placed for adoption TWICE? Two women in her life, two mothers, had relinquished their rights to her? That seemed so devastating to me. Would she remember the conversation and that she was a full participant in the decision? What would my kids think? Would they wonder if the same thing would or could happen to them?

I vacillated for weeks. I talked with The Ex and The Nanny, and I prayed and talked and prayed some more, then finally took my own feelings and emotions out of the equation. When I did that, the answer was clear. This child deserved a two-parent family. One that loves her and can offer her everything a child needs.

I talked to her one final time and explained that the judge would be the one that said whether or not it would be okay for The Nanny to be her mom. I made him be the good guy or the bad guy, however she chose to view it. I explained to her that I would always be Bronson, Shaylee, Hunter, Tylon, Hadley, Jayden, Colby, Dalin, Jace, Jazzi and Kate’s mom, and I would always be her friend. She was always welcome here, always wanted here, but that The Nanny was her real mom and her dad was her real dad. And she was a lucky child to have such an awesome family.

I hung up the phone and with a lump the size of Texas in my throat I threw myself on the bed and sobbed. I cried for all the stupid mistakes I had made in my life, and I cried for all the little people those stupid mistakes had impacted and affected. I cried for myself. I had a final pity party, in her honor, and cried and cried and cried. I lost a daughter because I made a horrible mistake. I deserved the pain I had caused myself. I deserved the loss I felt. I now added my daughter to the long list of things and people I had lost by having that affair.

I went to the attorneys’ office a week later and, in front of the appropriate people, I relinquished all rights and responsibilities to my daughter. Six weeks later the judge granted her adoption and, I’m told, her family celebrated. They are lucky to have such a beautiful child and Embree is a lucky girl to have the family that she does. Every child deserves the stability a two-parent family offers. I am glad I could offer her that after all I had done to crumble the one she had.

Love is sacrifice. It would have been easier to keep Embree and share her with The Nanny. But I knew in my heart of hearts, that wasn’t what was best for her. Because I loved her, I showed her the only way I knew how, by sacrificing my wants for her needs. I wish I would have done that before……

Editor’s Pick by Deb at Missives From Suburbia. Sandi is the mom to 14 kids, ten adopted and four “homegrown” (her wise description). Her blog, Lucky Thirteen and Counting, is an honest portrait of parenting a large family, complete with the challenges of a traveling husband, special needs kids and ex-spouses. Sandi doesn’t attempt to paint herself as the patron saint of motherhood. I find her blog refreshing, because she tells it like it is, warts and all, and in doing so, makes every mother out there feel normal for not making the bed, sometimes ignoring the laundry and knowing that as long as her kids are happy, she’s doing her job. Please visit her blog to read the original post and its comments, as well as the rest of her blog at Lucky Thirteen and Counting.