I just awoke from a dream where your dad and I were in a room together and I heard the sound that I had programmed for your APs text notifications on my phone. I looked at your dad with a look of confusion saying was that your phone or mine? It was his. He had the same notification setting. He then came walking over to me with his big grin, all excited and happy and said, “They responded to my text that I was thinking about them, and hoped they had a good day. They told me to have a good day too.”. He was so excited and happy. At that moment,
I woke from that and instantly had a heavy heart, because I knew that this will never happen.
Me speaking the truths of losing you to the industry, your APs cannot handle no matter how true they are, they cannot think about them, because then their consciences would be ridden with guilt. (I know mine would.)
Being in this position is a difficult one. Be quiet, or lose you all over again, which is what has happened. The power shift I felt in the hospital after signing those damn papers and then watching the ‘fist pump celebration’ of D (your Amom) through the cracked bathroom door that seemed to make me begin bleeding profusely, was once again very very real.
But you see, I cannot stop speaking of the truths. No matter how painful it is. It is the truth. I know we cannot get you back and for that I am so so sorry. Your dad knows just how sorry I am. Your sister knows that I cry for you daily still. But being able to help other women and babies and families realize all the truths of adoption will help them to be spared this pain. The silence would allow the industry to keep thriving on unsuspecting women who need help. Yes, we would be able to see you, but that cost for that is so great for so many others that need to be told the truths. It is not that I don’t love you. I would sacrifice anything other than your dad or your sister to have you back. But that is not ever going to happen. So, to be able to see you twice/year in person, a dozen times a year on Skype is not a relationship with you. It is not that I don’t love you, or want these things, it’s just that the price of silence (which means to me acceptance of the things that happened to me), is too much of a price to pay for being allowed minimal contact with you.
To spare others the pain, just by telling the truths of our story is such a big deal to me, it is helping me heal as I watch others make the decisions to keep their children with them. To not allow another baby to go through the trauma of losing his or her mother. To know they won’t suffer like we all are.
I hope one day you understand.
I can not be quiet and accept what happened. I will forever speak the truths until they are no longer able to happen to any other families.
And one day, we will see you and be able to touch you again.
We love and miss you so very very much.
“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” Margaret Mead.