I gave birth to an exquisite, beautiful, tiny baby girl. I held her close to me. I breathed in her scent. I kept her with me for 48 hours, only letting her leave at midnight for a few minutes. I fed her, changed her diapers, held her while she slept, nestled between my breasts. My family came and visited. My parents stayed the entire time. So many friends, family, loved ones came to see us. I held a dedication service in the hospital chapel, and most of my church attended.
And then, 48 hours after her birth, I left the hospital without her. Two weeks later, I signed the documents that would forever sever the legal bonds between me and my child. I had no idea, of course, how strong the emotional bond would be, and that I would spend the next 21 years trying to make the pain go away.
It was the right decision, made for the right reasons. I was 19 when I was raped by a friend of my brother's on the other side of the world when I had gone for a visit. I was 20 when I gave birth. I had not yet begun to process the abuse that I suffered as a child. My mother was nuts. My family was wracked with mental illness, addiction, abuse. I remember looking at my daughter and thinking, "No one deserves to be brought into a family like this on purpose, certainly not this beautiful, innocent baby in my arms." So I signed the papers and trusted that God would ensure that she was cared for, and that He would bring her back to me some day.
Not a day has gone by in the past 26 years that I have not thought of her and grieved. I have been able to peek into her life over the past 8 years, and I'm not sure whether that makes it better or worse. I mostly think it's better, because I know that she was cherished, cared for, loved and brought up in a stable home. I've been able to see pictures as she has matured into a beautiful woman. She's a high school guidance counselor now...maybe she'll have the opportunity to counsel a pregnant young woman.
I wasted 21 years trying to numb all of my feelings with drugs, alcohol, sex, achievement, marriages...nothing worked. In the past almost 5 years of sobriety, I have learned to live with pain, to walk through it. I bend, but never break. I get knocked down but I keep getting up.
The last communication I had with her was 3 years ago...she said that she wants to meet me "some day" but is not ready. So every day, at least once, the thought crosses my mind, that maybe, today will be the day.
And then it isn't.
Today, it really, really, really hurts.
Thanks for letting me share.