First, I want to say thank you to everyone for your comments on my previous post. Second, I think that I have finally figured out what is causing this, especially the increased feeling of detachment lately.
After reading the comments and suggestions I examined myself a bit. Honestly, I do not think that I have PPD at all. Not even slightly. I have none of the symptoms. Also, sleep deprivation isn't the issue either. Maddie is sleeping much better at night now, which is lovely! As for counseling I had already decided to call and make an appointment for next week. It was while thinking about talking about all of this that the answer came to me. Well, that, and calling Maddie by another name twice last night. I called her Abbie. Now, it seems like that would be an easy thing to do since the names are so similar. But honestly, I never call her Abbie. I do, however, call her Bella, which is one of my niece's names. But I never call her Abbie. It finally dawned on me that it was losing Abbie that is causing all of my anxiety and detachment. And when I say detachment I don't mean completely detached, just that a small part of me is held back from Maddie.
Maddie is now 9 weeks old....the age that Abbie was when I sat down to write a letter to her mother, demanding that she make a decision. Either allow us to adopt her or find her a new home. (mother was in prison and playing games) Subconsciously I must have been thinking about this. I cannot even begin to tell you how difficult losing Abbie was for me. I wrote the letter at 9 weeks, received a letter from her mother the following week that she would find her a new home, at 11 weeks I spoke to a foster family that was willing to take her and for the next 2 weeks I mourned. I wept. I grieved. It was like being told my child had 2 weeks to live. And for me that was true. Abbie would leave and my dreams of a child would die. I spent those 2 weeks packing, taking her picture, I cut a lock of her hair, and saved anything with her baby scent. At the end of those 2 weeks, when Abbie was 13 weeks old, we made the 2 hour drive to meet the foster family. And hand over my baby. I barely remember the trip, but I do remember returning home, my arms empty.
At first I kept everything except the nursery furniture. A few months later I forced myself to go through her stuff and only keep a handful of items, giving the rest to a young single mother in need. Over the years I continued to pare down her possessions, even sending her mother a package and only keeping 2-3 things for myself. I am as "over" losing Abbie as is humanly possible. I no longer mourn her. I realize that she is not mine and that the time that we had with her was a gift. Yet the scars from that time are still present. It is these scars that are the problem now.
I know that Maddie is mine and that no one can take her. Even though she is not "biologically" related I never even think of that unless I am telling someone her story or blogging. She is as much mine as any child could be. But all of this knowledge does not change the fact that Maddie is the same age as Abbie was and those feelings are resurfacing. I am holding back a part of myself to protect myself. Now that I know that I can fix it. I can remind myself that Maddie is not Abbie and never will be. This is an entirely different situation. I know that I will give my heart completely to this little girl, one day at a time.