Little one, I apologize for not writing more. It’s not because I don’t care, not at all. We’ve been extremely busy getting everything ready since having the home study back, so that we can get our online profile up and ready.
And in doing so, I’ve hit a road block. I’ve got writers block like you wouldn’t believe when it comes to one thing.
The “Dear Birthmother” letter.
It’s driving me crazy. What could I possibly say to an expectant Mom trying to make the toughest decision of her life? How could I convey how much we want to be parents, or how great we’d be at being the family for the tiny baby growing inside of her body? Knowing the decision she has to make, I’m at a loss for words.
I’ve tried different things to get over this writers block of mine. I’ve tried putting myself in the shoes of an expectant Mom making an adoption plan. I think about what I’d like to see in the family that is going to be, in a weird way, so much a part of me and yet so much not. I’ve done research on the subject, read countless other Dear Birthmother letters, and still I’m stuck.
I want to stand out, but I want to be us. I want to be honest, and I dont’ want sound desperate, but I still want to convey who we are and how much we want to be parents. I want to put her at ease knowing the kind of parents we’d be, but I also know that if I were in that boat, it would take an army of people to attempt to put my mind at ease. It’s the hardest and one of the most important decisions she will ever make, and I want to be there for her. I want her to know that we’re good people, that when we say open adoption we mean open adoption if that is what she wants, and that we won’t just go running to the hills once the paperwork is signed sealed and delivered.
I want her to know so many things about us, and I want to know so many things about her. Her, this woman who will be giving us the best gift in the entire world. This woman who will change our lives forever in her decision. This woman who will place her child in our arms, and have more trust with us than most people trust those they’ve known forever.
It’s a lot of pressure to write to this amazing woman.
But I have to do it. I have to try to muster up my own courage and write to her, and write to her in the way that she needs to hear. I have to show her in just a few paragraphs that we’re the ones for her, that this will work, that she can trust us. It’s hard.
It’s going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever written.
But for you, Lo, it will all be worth it. Every single syllable.
In other news, my birthday was Tuesday. It was the perfect day. I was off of work, your Dad surprised me with a full body massage at a local spa, and then lunch out with him, your Grandma and Aunt Kelly. Then I got my hair cut and colored. It was a pretty perfect day. And when I blew out those candles, I only made one wish, for you.
Today your Dad and I worked on painting your nursery today as the storms rolled through outside. We’re almost done, and I can’t wait to have your room completely ready for you. I just hope I don’t have to stare at it empty for long.
Last week I had to go to the eastern shore of Maryland for work, and your Dad got to come with me since he had leftover vacation time. We took a stroll in the local state park by the water after work one day, and noticed a giant, gorgeous cloud on the horizon. It was big and fluffly, and was mirrored in the sparkly water beneath. We both looked at each other at the same time and said, “…Does that look like a crawling baby to you?” As we walked, the cloud followed everywhere we went. At one point, the trail came to a clearing and growing there with nothing around it was a single dandelion, ready for a wish to be blown upon its tiny whispy seeds.
We plucked it, took a picture (the one above) then made a wish together.
You’ve gotten a lot of wishes this week, sweet baby. Hope they come true soon.
In the meantime, I’m going to go write my letter to put on our profile. We’re going to do our part, hopefully the universe, fate, timing and faith will do the rest.
Waiting for the rest,