Home Alone!

It's Sunday afternoon and I am sitting in my living room with but a few precious hours of alone time. My in-laws have Mason for the afternoon and hubby is at work. I am willing the minutes to turn into hours!

I have already tackled Wal-Mart, which was actually not so bad for a Sunday afternoon, and now have a laundry list of things to get done, including laundry!! Also on my list, however, is putting together a card and pictures for Mason's birthmother. The conflicting emotions that come along with sending an update are always there, but seem intensified when the time comes to put down in words Mason's life for the last 4-6 months. I had hoped to get an update mailed prior to the Holidays, but a blizzard and a two year old slowed me down a bit. So, here I am with a pen in hand and more words than I can organize.

When David and I decided to pursue adoption, after many years of infertility treatments, we preferred as little contact as possible with a birthmother. Truth be told, I was scared of having to compete with another woman for the position of Mom. Now that we are almost three years into our adoption, however, I long for more contact than we have. I have never heard the voice of the woman who gave birth to my son, never seen her face, never heard her laugh. I can't tell Mason what perfume she wears or about a sparkle in her eye; I really can't tell him much of anything. And despite the fact that we have repeatedly asked for a picture or a letter, we have received nothing.

So, I will send pictures of Mason over the last six months and tell her how much he loves trains. I will tell her how much he is talking now and that he is almost potty-trained (yay!!). I will say thank-you again and ask for her to write back. And I will probably cry, again, for what I cannot give my child. I can't tell him who he looks like or about the day he was born. Despite my deep un-ending love for him I will never be able to give him his history, and that's not fair. It's not fair that he will grow into a man without knowing where he came from or hearing for himself why he was placed for adoption.

Perhaps the future will resolve my heartache, and I pray that it will, but I must prepare myself that it might not. I will continue to love him without boundaries and let him know that it's ok to be sad, angry, and disappointed that he was dealt the hand he was. I will also encourage him to celebrate the gifts and blessings that we have all been given and forever know that there was never a time in his life when he was not deeply wanted and loved.