What follows was written by a dear friend of mine. She needed to share this, yet remain anonymous. I’m humbled that she chose this place. And I’m honored to share it with you . . .
For the mother of my child,
When I was pregnant with your daughter, I felt complete. As if some piece of divinity had been given to me for temporary safe keeping. When you and I met and I saw you, standing nervously in your black sweater, your beautiful blonde hair flowing over your shoulders and one tiny dog hair on your chest…I fell in love. When you and your wonderful husband cried when we told you you were going to have a little girl, I knew that I was serving a purpose.
To give you a family.
I was so sick when I was pregnant. Morning sickness was afternoon sickness was evening sickness. I only gained three pounds my entire pregnancy. You knew this, and asked me kindly and often how I was feeling. I lied, told you I was fine, just a headache. I would smile as a wave of nausea would settle in. I wanted nothing to spoil that I was lucky enough to carry your daughter.
I would sing to her in her embryonic restlessness, cradled the belly that was just starting to show. I tried to hold her in my hands, knowing I would never do so once she was born. I settled into the role of the peaceful woman, making a rational decision. I was at peace with the decision then as I am now. But just because I am peaceful with the choice, does not mean I am peaceful with having to have made it. I miss her every day.
When you send me photos, I miss her. When you tell me things she does that remind you of me, I miss her. When I see her smile, free of hurt and inhibition, I know that she was always meant to be yours and I miss her all the more.
I don’t know why I am telling you any of this, except that someday she might ask. She might ask “Didn’t she love me?”. She might ask that, in her own gentle way and when she does…you can tell her.
I love her more than I have ever loved anything. She is my proudest moment and my largest pain, she is the biggest piece of my heart, the lightest part of my spirit and the only gift that I have ever given that I wish I could have kept. So when she asks you, tell her yes.
Please, tell her yes.
Your daughter’s birth mother.