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.
Kidlet and I are friends on a social media platform. (He initiated the connection so no it’s not some weird non-boundary having birth mom predatory thing) <– why do i even still feel i have to make these types of disclaimers!
Kidlet and I are social media friends. Sometimes I’ll post a Throw Back Thursday picture of him or of us, especially around his birthday or just when I’m missing him particularly much. One such photo he commented on was from our very first face to face live and in person visit. I asked if he remembered that visit and he doesn’t really, which could have made me sad. Perhaps it should have made me sad, but it actually makes me smile.
It makes me smile because this means I have been a real physical human being person in his life for as long as he remembers. There is no time when I was just a name, or photo, or holiday card. He has known me for the entirety of his memory.
I used to worry that we didn’t start visits soon enough. That my inability to visit sooner had created this split in his experience the part of his life where he didn’t really know me and the part where he does.
Perhaps this is entirely selfish, but i’m glad there is no such division. I’m glad he has known me for as long as he can remember.
It might seem like a small thing, but it’s big to me. and it makes me smile.