A story in my life #3

In the last post, Scribbit left a comment comparing adoption to donating an organ. I understand her analogy, but it doesn't quite capture it. I've been thinking how I could explain it to you. The best way I can think of is that adoption is like a death.

I lost someone who I loved. She went to a better place.
Though I knew I wasn't ready to be a parent at the time of M.R.'s birth, the full truth of it did not hit me until Kellen was born, over nine years later. You don't realize how hard some things in life are, until you are in the situation. Marriage and parenting are two such examples. If it was hard when I was 27 and happily married, what would it have been like at 18 with no support from the birthfather and a strained relationship with my own parents?

I grieved.
The loss left a hole in my heart. It hurt. Anger, tears and numbness were all part of it. I craved the contact that came in the form of letters and pictures. I poured over every word and image over and over. At the same time, I dreaded the letters. Every new letter and picture seemed to pull the scab off the wounds.

With time and prayer, there is healing.
Eventually, I could think of M.R. without tears. There is still a pain of sorts, but it is more of an ache not real pain. It doesn't mean I've forgotten. I still think of her often. I wonder. I pray. I hope, but from a place of contentment, not pain.

There is hope we will meet again.