I just wrote about my path to relinquishment. Even writing my truth I feel guilty. I feel I need to balance it with happy talk so as not to offend anyone. Which, I do know is an impossible goal, but still I try.
I got lucky. Regardless of how I ended up signing those papers. I got lucky. I got lucky that a wonderful couple’s profile was in the stack sent to me by the facilitation service. I got lucky that they didn’t care about gender or race or distance. I got lucky that they were every bit as fantastic in person as on the paper and on the phone.
I got lucky that they desired openness. I got lucky that our personalities aligned and our openness grew. I got lucky that Kidlet doesn’t remember a time without me visiting. I got lucky that Kidlet was in my wedding. I got lucky that I was in his Bar Mitzvah.
I got lucky.
I am lucky.
I am the exception, but not the rule. Too many don’t get lucky. Too many experience broken promises and closed adoptions. Too many find out the couple they read about on paper or met at the agency doesn’t really exist at least not in the way they’d portrayed themselves.
And so I continue on, acknowledging my luck and recognizing all the reform that needs to be done.