In January, I believed that we would finally begin communicating with each other via old fashioned letter writing. I believed that we were finally going to be able to begin the long journey of reconnecting and building our own relationship. Of course, as you’ll learn as you move through life, things don’t always play out as you imagine. Learning to be able to recover from those hits is hard, but necessary. So I move on.
It was my best friend, who I hope you’ll get to meet one day, that suggested writing these letters to you, on my blog. After I was told that there would be no contact with you any time soon, I was devastated. I just wanted to know who you are are, and what’s important to you. I wanted to make you laugh, and watch you play, read, or just be in the same room with you. I was afraid that time was running short. Yes, you are young but you are about to cross over into a time in your life that will be confusing and awkward. My argument for us being reunited is that eventually want to know where you came from, who you came from. You deserve that. You deserve to know your whole self, but it was not to be.
So here I am, two months after I received a letter from your parents that devastated me and made the haze clear. It really was like the fog lifting on a dewy, Spring morning. Finally, I was able to see that for you and I to have a relationship, their involvement is not always going to be necessary. One day you will be old enough to make that choice. On your own. If you are anything like me, or your father, you will. Both your Dad and I have shared a bit of apprehension knowing you carry both our angry genes. We’ve embraced it, and we’re ready for you to be angry, if you need to be. Chances are you’ll be angry, and it’s okay. We both get anger, because it’s been a part of our lives for a long time.
More on him next month. I have much to tell you about him.
Every month, I’ll write to you here. Anything else you read in this blog, are my feelings, my opinions. Those pieces can help you understand why the adoption took place, and the grief that I endured during, and after I relinquished you. These letters however, are just for you, Kiddo. Since I’ve been forbidden from writing to you, I will just do it this way, with the knowledge that the internet is vast. If you know my name, you’ll find me. I hope you have my name.
Anyway, Easter is this weekend. Last night we had dinner with my family, and your name came up, as it usually does. I had shown my Mom a picture of you with your Justin Bieber hair (just so you know, your Dad had that kind of hair when we first started dating) and we began to discuss adoption, our relationship. As we discussed, we began to talk about all the family you don’t know yet. Your parents have a huge family, but you should know, there is more to your family. You have a heavy amount of family lurking in the shadows, waiting to embrace you as you are, who you are, and in those people, you will see your genes mimicked in. One day, you’ll get to meet us all. Maybe one day, we’ll all gather together for Easter dinner, with you there.
Hope is what keeps me alive, Kiddo.
Tomorrow, your sister and brother will wake up and bound through the house looking for their Easter baskets. They will likely crash from a sugar high by noon, and then we will enjoy the fact that spring is so much closer. Do you like Easter? We don’t do the religious parts of it here, but I do like celebrating in our own unique way. One day, I’ll show you.
I’ll leave this for now. Please know that I carry you in my heart daily, and that there is not a day that I don’t hope for your wellness. I love you, Kiddo, as always.
Happy Easter. Until next month.