Although I have four kids, only half of them came to me as newborns. Sam and Cj were both over three-months-old before we were allowed to meet them, touch them, smell them, and bring them home, and although that is young for international adopted children, as anyone who's been around babies knows, a three-month-old is most certainly not a newborn.

I still begrudge every minute of those three months these kids were out of my grasp, and am often reminded just how much I missed in having them pass those early days of teeny-tiny in the arms of someone else.

Holding Rocky brings pangs, I must admit. With Cj well on her way out of babyhood and Sam about ready to start driving and shaving ... or so it feels on far too many days ... there are no babies in my house.

I'll be fifty-six next month, so officially past the age of adopting for many countries, Cambodia included, and although Cj was meant to be my last baby, the reality of that finality occasionally sticks in my throat. My baby days are over.

Yes, of course, I'll get to do baby time with Rocky, but he is not mine, not related in any way, and my relationship with his mother requires that I keep a certain distance and perspective. No matter what, Catherina is not really a friend, and our circumstances, ages, backgrounds and so much more prevent us from crossing a certain line that is difficult to define, but palpable nonetheless.

And that's okay. It's right that I can cuddle and coo over Rocky without feeling the need to bond on any level beyond what is appropriate. It's also right that doing the cuddling and cooing forces me to face the fact that from now on my baby time will all be spent with other peoples' children.

I'm a fifty-five-year-old busy woman with a career and two small children. I work hard and answer to demands from many directions. Much in my days becomes easier as Sam and Cj get older, and although a two-year-old is no piece of cake, Cj is now able to keep herself amused, feed herself, and can, to a certain extent, be reasoned with.

Sleepless nights, baby wearing, constant fretting as teeth emerge and such are all, for the most part, behind me.

But, then again ...

For more on this, see these posts on the International Adoption Blog, and the next post here.