A Plea for Advice and Guidance......

 Many things have gone through my mind over the last couple weeks. I have had to sort through many feelings and emotions.
Last year when we decided to foster to adopt I was skeptical about our decision for a long time. You know those feelings that any mother has when they are pregnant with their second, third or fourth child. Will I love it? Will I favor my first child more then my second? And then the baby is born and you can't possibly fathom how life was when you were a only a family of three. Adoption had always held a special place in my heart for obvious reasons. I knew it was possible to love a child that wasn't your biological baby. I am living proof of that. But I wasn't sure I had what it took to be the parent that mine were to me. From the time we made our minds up to go forward with our choice, it was almost 9 months. Ironic, huh. 9 months of imagining what our first placement would look it, act like, her age (yes, we requested a specific age and sex). I imagined the colors her room would be. I imagined things we would do together. I couldn't wait to take her on her first family vacation. 9 months I prepared for a child and just a labor does, the call that we had a girl came in a matter of minutes. At 5 p.m. on a Wednesday I was the mother of four boys. By 7 p.m. I had a 20 month old little girl in my arms. Those first few days were a whirlwind. Within two days she had her own room. It was pastel yellow and light gray. She had dozens of dresses and shoes and hair bows. I knew her cries. I knew her facial expressions. I knew what she loved and what irritated her. And just as I learned her she had learned me. She watched me. She knew my voice and my tones. And most importantly, she had my heart. I lived my dream. My boys were stand-off'ish of her for some time. We prepared them and talked about this possible change for a long time. But as the days passed they wanted her in their sight all the time. And then just as quickly as she entered our lives, she left. I knew when we agreed to this last year that it would be difficult. But there are no words to descried what it feels like to love a child then loose it. Loosing a child after you have held them, seen the, rocked them. And not being able to have updates on them, their health, their progress. I imagine this is much like death. It's reassuring to know she is in a home where her health needs can be addressed easier and faster. But, it doesn't completely remove the grief. I'm still here in this home and have to pass through her yellow room that's sitting empty. Her empty closet and dresser. And I'm still answering questions for Evyn about where she is. He usually asked nightly where she is and when she's coming home. Those moments pour salt on a wound.
So, the lingering question of whether or not I was the type of person who could adopt was quickly answered. Absolutely. Could my children except a adopted child as their sister? Absolutely. But this experience now raises more questions. Can I do this again? Can I run the risk of dealing with such grief again? Would I love another child as I did her or would I be scared to become attached?
I have come to a crossroads. I need advice and guidance. This is a "what would you do?" post.