I wrote this post on Dec 2nd 2012, on my first tiny blog. The blog private and was intended to help me while I worked through the ADF Dedicant Path, however this was a post about my daughter and the process of healing and coping with adoption as a birthmother. I decided to copy it and leave it mostly* unedited here a decade later to preserve the place I was then. *I did remove names for privacy.

~ Then 2012 ~

For me it isn’t over…

Today I just feel the need to bare a broken heart.

I know I put on a good face most of the time but I hurt and I’m struggling to cope with choices that I have made. It is not to say I regret my decisions or was unaware of the consequences; I knew the kind of heartache I had to look forward to. I just need to put it out there give myself a few precious moments to grieve.

I read somewhere that the last face you see in your mind before you fall asleep is the person that your heart truly belongs to. I know who my heart belongs to even if she doesn’t recognize my face or know the sound of my voice and even though I rarely speak to her; my heart belongs to my daughter.

I feel a desperate need to prove myself; to her, to her father, to her Daddy & Papa. I so need for her dads to think well of me, to want me in their lives, in her life! I feel constantly off balance unsure of what to do or say. Always worried of being to close to the line that divides me, as her birthmother, from her true parents; those who feed and cloth her, read her bedtime stories and share her life.

I want her to know me, to love me, even just a small faction of what I love her. I struggle to even make the phone call because the truth is I have nothing to say; I want to hold the phone knowing on the other end she is there. I worry about trying to skype because I don’t want them to see my tears. I feel guilt over the last time I saw her; because I sat dumb, unable to carry on a conversation to busy trying to record the moment in my mind. Savoring the seconds I was close enough to touch her hand.  Sometimes I want them to know that even though they are now a family and so happy; for me, the journey isn’t over

This song plays in my head

I hate to turn up out of the blue, uninvited  
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it  
I had hoped you'd see my face and that you'd be reminded  
That for me, it isn't over  

Never mind, I'll find someone like you I wish nothing but the best for you, too 
Don't forget me, I begged, I remember you said 
Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead, yeah 

Adelle ~ Someone Like You

I often feel the need to hide my hurt from her father, for as much as I love him I know there are parts of my pain he simple does not comprehend. While he loves her will all his heart the weight of missing out on her live does not hang heavy of his heart. I envy him for his lack of doubt; for his unwavering peace in knowing she is loved and cared for. For me it is not so simple, the calming peace I have in my choice of her adoption does not change the heartache of missing the moments of parenting. I hope [my partner/her father] can forgive me for my broken heart.

Finally I am terrified of not being enough. I want her think of me as most children thing of their parents; wonderful loving heroes without being near her I don’t know what to do to make her look up to me and love me.

This outpouring of emotion may seem strange but I feel the need to hid my pain, to protect those I care about. To save [her biological father] the heartache, to prevent [her adoptive parents] from worrying about or feeling sorry for me. I also to it to protect myself by pretending that it doesn’t it hurts less most of time. It also prevents those who seem so eager to tell me that they told me so. That this would be ‘just to much’ that I should of been selfish and kept her; or not selfish and shouldn’t have ‘Taken her away from her “real family” who would love her’.

I need to hold a strong face, to pretend. Pretend I never have doubts, that everything is just wonderful and that I don’t cry myself to sleep missing her, choke-up when I see my friends with their children, or sob through mother-daughter movies. For just a moment I needed to be weak, be broken, so I can go on being strong and work on feeling whole.

~ Now in 2022 ~

Somethings change for the best

In the past decade my beautiful baby girl grew into a mischievous & darling toddler than a sweet and friendly little girl and now she has grown up into a vivacious preteen who is smart, independent and creative. I have grown too. I have become a women I am proud to be. I too am smart, independent and creative. I may not have gone on to do all the tings I planned for myself but I love me and for the most part I love the life that I have. I have worked hard on healing myself and being a person my daughter can look up to if she want to.

I am open about the adoption to all my friends and family, there is no more secrecy about the adoption. In the past decade I have be welcomed into her live & family with such love that it is only flickers of doubt about how I fit in remain in my mind.

Her adoptive dads have always gone above and beyond to make me feel welcome with them. I visit almost every year, and usually stay at their home so we can spend as much time as possible together. I know that her Dads remember me and still think I am important to their life, I didn’t fade to the background as she began to grow up. I never doubt that this was absolutely the best thing I could have done for my daughter and for her parents.

Somethings hurt the same

There is more surety and stability as time has gone on. Heartache, however has stayed. There is a bitter-sweetness to loving my daughter fiercely and with all my heart, Being proud to be her mother but feeling like I only play pretend at being a Mom, and only a handful of days a year. There is a fine line to walk with wanting to be there and wanting to be closer; and the very real pain and grief I feel over the thousands of moments I’ve missed, that I choose to give up when I placed her with her parents.

Somethings get harder

I am acutely aware of these loses as I watch my friends with their children. This pain has gotten sharper since my divorce from her father. It seems less and less likely that I will be a mother in a more traditional sense. It is a very real probability that I will not have another child. One of my greatest fears then has become a reality I struggle to cope with. The dream deferred, is perhaps dashed instead. I may never get to bring a baby home and watch them grow. I may have lost the opportunity to parent as I had always planned.

Never the Less

Even if I had know for certain about the years of heartache, even if I had known I wouldn’t have another chance to have my own child to bring home and love; I would have made the same choice. I would give my daughter the love, family and live I wanted for her but couldn’t provide; even though it continues to break my heart. I know without a single doubt she is loved. I know she has all the support, family and resources a mother could want for her child.

One of the few bible verses I committed to memory is

- John 3:16 -
"For God so loved the world, 
that he gave his only begotten Son..." 

This comes to mind when I think of the tiny baby I held as I signed the adoption papers. I like to think that I loved, my daughter so much I gave her the world.

I wrapped her up in my love and my broken heart and gave her my dreams and my hope that the world would be beautiful for her, and her world would be filled with love, joy, and imagination.

This may never get easier but it will always be worth it. Placing my daughter with her amazing dads remains the greatest & hardest thing I have ever done. It is still the decision I am proudest of.