jeannette

There is actually 2 things I would do differently. 

The first thing is I would allow myself to grieve more and not just try to move on with my life.  By the time my daughter was a year old I no longer talked about her.  I tried to cover up that I ever had her.   I assumed this was how you are supposed to deal with adoption.  17 years ago there was no example of how to be a birthmom.  Adoption has changed so much in this short time.

The second would be to write to my daughter and her adoptive parents more when she was younger.  I always assumed that writing my daughter was for my benefit and not for her.  I really didn’t think she would need more for anything.  I now found out that she really needed to know about me and she needed to know that she was wanted and loved.  I gave her up because I loved her and wanted her to have more than I could have at the time. I wish I could have gotten to know her better when she was little.

I am a birthmom of a 17 year old and a mom to a 15 year old, 12 year old, and 11 year old.  I have what I consider a semi open adoption.  I picked my daughter’s parents through a portfolio that described the adoptive parents and their family.  I have never met them in person but we have exchanged letters for 17 years without “identifying information”.  The first 2 years we exchanged letters every few months.  After that until my daughter was about 10 we exchanged letters once a year.  Once she reached 11  year olds I received one letter at 11 and one at 13 years old.  All of these letters were from the adoptive parents.  When my birthdaughter turned 15 she wrote me the first time by herself.   We had more in common than I thought was possible. We started exchanging letters every couple months.  I lived for each letter.  I sent her pictures of my family and she sent me pictures of herself.  Since December 2008 we have been exchanging letters almost weekly.  The only “identifying information” that we can not exchange are our names.  I know what town she lives in, she knows what town I live in.  I know what school she goes to and she knows what schools my other kids go to.  She knows the first names of my kids and my siblings.  I know her friends names and she even knows my husband’s first name.  We talk about our daily lives, our dreams, and even where to meet next year.