My daughter is not mine. I mean, she is, obviously, because she’s my daughter. Nothing can, or will, change that. Ever. But I don’t have her. I didn’t put it online publicly anywhere when I was pregnant, so no one knew. I was very quiet about it. I knew I wasn’t going to keep her. I knew that I couldn’t give her the life that I wanted for her if I was to raise her. So I did what was best for everyone.
Obviously, things haven’t been easy for me since she was born. To increase the difficulty, I am very selective in who I talk to about it, and even still with what I say to them. I fear that they’re going to judge me for it. For hiding the pregnancy from pretty much everyone. For not keeping her. For anything people can come with that they can’t handle with adoption.
I know that where she is now, instead of with me, is an amazing place. Her parents can give her so much more than I ever could have.
I’m struggling to find the right words for this post. To express what I’ve gone through and how it’s emotionally affected me. There are people who still don’t know, and honestly, they probably never will know. Unfortunately, that’s just how this situation has to play out.
As I get closer and closer to seeing her, I get more and more scared. Afraid of leaving at the end. Terrified of how difficult it’s going to be. Nervous about seeing how much bigger she is.
The whole thing just scares me. I know it shouldn’t, but it does. But in reality, I know that there’s no right or wrong way to deal with adoption as a birthmother. It’s difficult. It’s never-ending. It’s heart-wrenching. You no longer have something that you held so close to you for nine months. You’re in a position that likely new others in your life can, or will, understand.
The fact that I’m able to see her doesn’t make things any easier. In a way it makes things harder. I look at the pictures that i receive, and it’s bittersweet. I am so grateful that her parents are doing what they are to keep me updated about her; it’s also difficult because I know that she’s mine and I don’t get to have those memories with her like a “normal” mom would.
I want my daughter to understand that she wasn’t adopted because I didn’t want her. I did want her. I wanted her so much it hurt. She was adopted because I wanted better for her than I could give.
Her parents are more than I could have asked for. They are so sweet, and welcoming, and the adoption agency helps me with contacting my daughter’s parents. She made everything simple for me instead of letting me be consumed by a wash of legal terms and things I didn’t understand.
I met with her on a Tuesday and walked away with family profiles to look at. We got together again on Friday and I had chosen the family to adopt my daughter. And I knew within a few hours that they would be adopting her, nothing was standing in the way.
Holding my baby girl in the hospital was like nothing I had ever experienced before. She was so small and beautiful. I never wanted to let go of her. But I knew that I couldn’t take her home with me. As I signed the papers saying I was giving up my rights as her parent, she was wrapped up in a blanket asleep on my chest. It just felt so right.
Meeting her parents and watching her go home with them wasn’t nearly as hard as I thought it would be. Her parents are more than I could have asked for. They are so sweet, and welcoming, and they want to have communication with me. They send updates with lots of pictures, and there’s pretty much a letter they write so much.
This is something about me that I will never be able to forget or leave behind. I will always remember my first daughter. She will forever hold a special place in my heart.