Last November I told you
I am a birthmother. There is much of the story I didn't tell you. So many layers. So many details.
I didn't give birth in my home state. When I look back I think that was a good thing. I can't really explain it but the world changed for me after I left the hospital, after saying my good byes. The state I gave birth in though only had
closed adoption laws [at the time, don't know about now]. What that basically does, besides no contact with the adopting family, is not allow my daughter or I to ever know each other's identity. I have no idea what her last name is and she may never know mine. While the state does have an adoption registry it still makes it tough to ever find each other if we want to.
The adoption agency I went through though allows an option of semi-open. This means that pictures and letters can be exchanged through the agency. I choose this option. I wanted to know that I had done the right thing, I wanted some piece of mind that my daughter was loved and cared for. It made me feel like I was doing something right, by making sure she was ok.
I cherished those first photos I received. I sobbed reading the letter and seeing her beautiful face once again. It was such a bittersweet thing. So many pictures of her with her grandparents, aunt, uncles, cousins, so much family that loved her. The first year pictures come often, every few months because of how quickly babies grow and change. Eventually the pictures slow down to once a year, around their birthdays. I haunted my mail box in the Fall.
Eventually the photos and letters stopped coming. I knew this was a risk I took. The closed adoption papers state that any contract between the birthmother and family is null and void if it is non compliant with state law. So if the family wants to stop writing letters and sending pictures, I have no say in the matter.
A part of me felt this was going to happen. That I would just become unimportant. While it broke my heart, I accepted it. I had no control over it. I trusted that the parents I picked were still doing an amazing job.
When my mom came to visit me a while ago she brought my mail that still comes to her doors. It was a lone letter. Flat and thin I didn't recognize the return address. I had no idea what I was about to read.
It was the adoption agency. The have letters and pictures waiting for me. They had been trying to contact me but since all the numbers had changed, as well as my email, they had no idea if I still lived at the address. It was a shock to my system. I had come to terms with never seeing another photo or reading another letter.
I had no idea how to respond to this letter. It took me time. Knowing that the family still cared about my feelings, that I could see my daughter's face, know her favorite toys and food. That the window to her world and life was open again was amazing and I was almost afraid to look through. The thought of a picture of her smiling face, seeing the joy in her eyes, and the love of her parents brought joy to my heart.
I made the call, I gave them my new address and number. I anxiously haunt my mail box.
