Well, quite a few hard days. I know it isn't August anymore, but that month is always the worst for me. My baby girl was born that month and that day rests on my shoulders much heavier around this time of year.
The hardest thing is that no one understands it, at all. "You made the right choice" they, say, "What a great gift" they say..... but no one seems to know that inside, I don't care how right or great it was....I still miss her.
More than missing someone is possible. I suppose this must be at least something similar to what it feels like to lose a child in death, but constantly see ghost like images of them growing up and thriving in someone else's arms, so far from your reach. And all you crave is just to wrap your arms around the child and show them all the bottled up love you have had saved for them from the moment they were born. Maybe, death is the wrong comparison, I don't know quite what to compare it to. It is misery. It is a roller coaster of joy and grief when those photos come once a year.
I await them impatiently, I expect to be disappointed with the attached unemotional letter of her milestones this year as well. Do they send it because they want to or out of duty? I don't know, but it is certainly torture.
Such a change from the teary eyed couple I had met at the hospital, so loving and happy to meet me, well my baby, I suppose I was just an obstacle. Or at least in the aftermath that is how I feel now.
My biggest question, and my most difficult to resolve is, how do you show someone you love them from so far away, without ever hearing their voice, with only having letters and presents to represent this unconditional unending maternal love that only wants to meet that child and allow it to soar. The same love that had me make this decision in the first place. In my confused hormonal state of 8 months pregnant and no idea of what else to do or who else to turn to....the adoption agency made promises of support groups and visits....once they got the papers signed out the window they flew.
I would like any women in the same boat as first moms, birth moms, whatever you prefer to be called to be a part of this blog also and share your feelings, say all the things you wish you could say without having fear of the small contact you have with your child being cut off, the rug being pulled out from under you just for saying what you feel inside. It has been years, I am tired of being quiet.
Today I am sad, it is not just a cry and it's over sadness, it's the kind of sadness that goes down to your bones, the feeling creeps inside and tingles a little in all of your insides. The ball in your throat gets bigger, I don't know how to describe this sort of pain, but it is much different, much more intense than any tragedy I have ever experienced.
"It will get better with time, time heals all wounds" they say..... all wounds except adoption....the wound of adoption is like leprosy, it only spreads and gets worse the older and longer it settles.
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