I must write this post even if I never publish it. Why? Because this is a side of adoption that I've never heard about. No one ever told me that I would feel extremely guilty as I watched our little girl's birthmom walk away from her forever. No one ever told me that I would cry each night for 10 days wondering if I did the right thing.
So, I think I will post this. The writing is therapy for me, but also I find that one day if someone is adopting, they may come across this post and it may help them in their emotions. So here goes..
I sit here today on day 10 of the revocation period. You have until tonight at midnight to change your mind, but I really don't think you will. On the outside, I'm rejoicing. I love this little girl that you have given me. It took us two years to get her, but she has been my dream for 13 years. She is amazing, beautiful, and perfect. I'm so incredibly grateful that you have given us a third daughter and that you chose to give her life. As I've told you before, I will do my best to be the mama that you wanted her to have.
All of that is on the outside, but on the inside, oh on the inside I hurt. I hurt for you and I hurt for her. For tonight at midnight it becomes final. One last goodbye so to speak. Once that time is over, you can never have her back and from one mama to another, my heart aches for you. I can only imagine the pain that you have today. I know you are doing what is best for her. I hurt for her because she won't ever truly "know" you and I wish somehow she could. But, that just won't happen as she will first and foremost know and feel that I am her mom and you are her birthmom.
In so many ways, it feels like it wasn't suppose to be this way. And in many ways, it wasn't. God didn't originally intend for me to be her mama, but instead you. However, God's ways are always greater than our own and He knew that you could not do it. That you loved her enough to give her away. I want to love her with that same amount of love and I will.
She is beautiful J. On the inside and out, just beautiful. I love her just as much as I love her two big sisters. Together as a family of 5 we feel complete. But, somewhere in Georgia, I know you feel incomplete and I know you always will. And for that I feel guilty and sad. I'm sorry you couldn't raise her. Not sorry that I get to raise her. But still, I'm sorry. I'll love her for always and forever.
So as I hold this precious little girl today in my arms for you, I'll know that you are holding her in your heart. I'll know that you love her. Despite the pain and guilt we are both experiencing, we both love the same little girl and we both will do our best for her. For you, that means giving her to me to raise. And for me, it means cherishing her and loving her as my own. And I will. I will.
With much love,