It’s been so long since I posted, so long that I don’t even know if there is anyone still out there. Hell, it took me 4 tries to even log in to post 🙂 There has been so much, and so little going on, that I just feel I need to get it out here.
It’s been 18 months since my birthdaugher responded to me. I remember being so hopeful that we were entering a new phase, so hopeful that the openess that I craved 6 years ago when I embraced my birthmother status would finally begin. I wish I could say we were all on our way to that. However, I’ve finally come to terms that maybe, it was just not meant to be.
M and I shared some time together. I wrote to her religiously about once a month via Facebook, where we became friends. She responded from time to time, albeit infrequently, as expected being a teenaged college student. They were amazing letters, so open and positive. We had everything in common, she was literally a carbon copy of me. I thought that was enough. She was away at school, but as I saw on FB, something happened and she came home. And it changed.
For the first time in years, she had gotten one of my birthday cards. All those years AM promised she would give my cards to her never panned out. Still, she was happy to get them. I was happy she got them. So I over looked AM’s broken promises. It didn’t matter what she didn’t follow through with anymore. The past was the past and we were dealing with the future. And it looked so bright.
AM had stopped communicating with me. It broke my heart because the last year before I had contacted M we seemed so close. She and I chatted frequently on FB. She posted pics for me. She was the one who initiated me meeting M, and she seemed OK with everything. But the moment I wrote M was the end. Even though I had her blessing so to speak. I still wrote her, I made a point of it. I wanted her to know that even though M and I were building our own relationship, I still valued my relationship with her. I wanted it to continue. It was important to me. She never responded.
M underwent minor surgery last spring. I found out via AM’s FB updates. When her mom posted that she was looking for DVD’s of M’s favorite show to borrow for her recovery, I messaged her that I’d lend her mine. After all, M’s favorite show was also mine, and I’d been collecting all the seasons for years. She responded to that particular message, and said it would be OK. I was so happy that I could contribute, that I would help M feel better with her mom’s blessing. After sending M a message a few days post op with encouraging words, she thanked me for the package. That was the only way I knew they had arrived safely.
M and I have last had contact on Christmas, after I sent her an e-card to her mailbox. It was a brief message acknowledging Christmas and my birthday. She left FB without a word in the fall, so the one passive link I had to her is gone. I sent her a birthday card this year, but no response. I hope she got it, but heck if I know.
AM and I shared the occasional FB comment. She wished me a happy birthday, as I did her. We shared a traditional comment on M’s birthday. But she left FB recently too. So essentially, I have nothing left.
For the most part, I live my life. I have my husband and my daughter and my carreer. I have goals. I am content. But there is a hole, the same hole that has been there for 20 years.
I think back to when I placed M. I remember feeling so secure. It was just not the right thing for me to raise a child at 18. I wanted her to have two parents and a secure home. It was important to me. I could not give her that. AM could. I was confident in that. I was right. M has a charmed life. It’s what I wanted.
I remember when I decided to search for AM to reopen the adoption. I pictured being welcomed with open arms. After all, that’s what I last remembered. I was not her mom, I knew that. I knew I would never take AM’s place, and I didn’t want to. But I never expected to be thought of as anything to be afraid of. I never thought I would have to prove that I was stable, or positive. I never thought that I would be anything other that a welcome presence who loved and respected M and her family. I was so naive.
I don’t regret the fact that I placed my daughter for adoption. It was what my 17 year old self believed was best at the time. It is what my 38 year old self agrees with. I was just never prepared for what baggage comes with it. I never knew I would be something big to deal with. I never knew that my existance would cause so much that it would be hard to even know me. To allow me to just be like anyother friend or family member who loved M and her family, to just be a part of it in some way.
That’s the part no one tells you. That’s the part I regret. If someone would have told me that my DD and her mom would have a problem with me being a positive person in their lives then to hell with it, I’d have never chosen adoption.
I don’t know where my relationship stands. Maybe one day it will all be effortless, it will all be simple and OK. After all this time it just doesn’t seem like it tho. I feel like I’ll always be someone who they have to think twice about. Someone who will send cards that will never be acknowledged or e-mails that won’t be returned. Someone who will go the extra mile to build something that will never come to be. Someone that will always put their heart out there to have it be dismissed.
I’ll never stop trying. The door will always be open, because that’s part of being a mom, even if it’s only by birth. But someday, I hope it will be easier. I hope that one day I’ll finally stop having to prove myself to be the person I already know I am.
Coming Clean: Confessions of A Secret Birthmom 