Is there such a thing as a safe letter?

I've been reading through what little correspondence I have between my first daughter's family and me.  There isn't much to read, but there is a lot to take in.  I have been reading through it in preparation to send them a letter around the time of her birthday.  Her birthday is in a few weeks, and she will be 15.  FIFTEEN.  That is very strange to me.  And yet those years have not passed quickly.

I have realized something very important tonight.  It may seem like a no-brainer to some, but try to be patient with me as I sort through the chaos in my life known as adoption grief. 

I really detest Bethany Christian Services' abhorrent practices,

but I love my daughter's family, and I want them to know that.  I want them to know ME, not some idea of who I might be.

I separate the two entirely in my heart.  It is strange, but true.  They are not Bethany.  They are not doing the same old stuff over and over again to women after me.  They are probably just living their lives the best that they can, and they don't know the heartache I live with.  I believe that they love me, in some way that I cannot explain, because I know that they love my daughter.  So I separate them from the people who still can't seem to understand that they have some major problems in the way they run their business.  And it IS a business.  (Another post for another night.)

I have struggled a lot with the fact that I have to rely on an agency that I don't trust to be the go between for me with a person who holds an enormous part of my heart.  As I have read and re-read the several letters I have from my daughter's family, I see so much to love and to trust.  I see much to respect.  I just have a hard time believing that all those years ago they said they did not want to hear from me anymore.  That is what I was told by the social worker... That it was too hard for my daughter's adoptive mother to be reminded of her adoption.  It was painful for her and hard for her to write back, and they hoped that I would be willing to move on with my life.

We could spend a lot of time talking about that line of thinking, but I don't want to focus on it tonight.  We all know moving on after losing a child in that way is bunk.  Living through it? Living alongside it? Living a "real" life and an "adoption" life? I am familiar with all of that.  But moving on? (Enter silent pause and crickets chirping...) It doesn't exist.  Yeah, I moved on for about 8 or 9 years.  Then I finally admitted that I was dead inside because I was grieving something everyday that no one would acknowledge.  I was expected to be grateful and healed and look back on all of it as a growing experience.  ?????

Anway, I don't have the emotional energy tonight to do justice to my adoption story.  Maybe I can do that at a later time.  The bare bones of it, though, is that I had a semi-open agreement where I was told after TPR that I couldn't know my daughter's name (not even her first name), where I was told that I could not have any more pictures of her after the first year, and where I was told by the social worker that I needed to move on and not ask for update letters after the 5th year.  The end.  Have a happy life.  You are a special person.  God bless you, honey.

(Huge exhale.) I've written a hundred letters since then that have all said something different.  None of them have ever been mailed.  I have always been too scared, or felt like I would somehow "be in trouble", or felt like I would be misunderstood... an irritation, threat, or annoyance to them.  Fifteen years not knowing my daughter's name.  Fourteen years without a picture of her.  Ten years with no word on how her life is going and who she is as a person. 

So much has happened in those years.  What do I share with them?  I want them to know I am happily married and that I have two wonderful children.  I want them to know how I have changed and grown as a person.  I want them to know about my cancers and our other family medical history.  There are some important things there.  I want to know what my first daughter is like.  I want to know her first name.  I feel like it was something that was just stolen from me...  Something that I had a right to know... Something that my grieving heart needed to know...  I did not have a closed agreement.  I would never have let her go if I had known how the contact would play out.  It was part of the "sale" to me, you know?  "Nowdays, you don't have to wonder about your relinquished child.  You can choose the family and stay in touch through letters and pictures.  You never have to wonder how she is doing." Um, it hasn't really worked out for me that way, Bethany.  But I know you still sell it like that.

I want my first daughter to know she has sisters who share some of her DNA.  I believe as a human being she has a right to know that.  I want her to know her adoption story from the person who lived it rather than someone who doesn't know me.  That is something that has always left me scratching my head because I read something peculiar very often in people's online profiles who are waiting to adopt and wanting a semi-open or closed agreement.  I want to know how you can promise to always tell a child about their "birthmom" and how she loved them so much when you will basically know nothing about her?  I guess it can go back to that quote, "If I loved my child any less, they'd still be with me." It has to be that the couple has already bought into all of that mess.  But I digress.  Back on track...

I didn't know that my state had no revocation period.  I didn't know that I didn't have to sign.  I didn't know that I was abandoning her.  I didn't know that I would be writing all of this 15 years later.  I didn't know that I would think of her every single day for the rest of my life.  I didn't know that I would be a great mom.  I didn't know.  I didn't know.  And I HATE myself for that.

So what do you write to someone when you stick your neck out and try to contact them after so long?  Will they be less wary of me since their children are all so much older?  Have they learned more about what adoption is really like just as I have?  DID THEY REALLY DESIRE TO END CONTACT LIKE THE SOCIAL WORKER SAID? Have they been wondering all along why I haven't written?  Will they rejoice or hold me at arms length?

I have been thinking over the last few months about whether or not to write a real letter or a safe letter.  I think I know now that there really is no such thing for me as a safe letter.  I just have to put my heart out there and know that I might be rejected.  The problem is that I am afraid of how I might react internally if that is what happens.  I'm not asking for anything different than what we originally agreed to.  I'm not asking them to let me into their lives or to have visits or to even write a letter directly to my daughter.  I just want her to know me from my own words.  And I want to know who she is and how she feels.

I'm going to choose to believe that her parents were as ill-prepared for and uninformed about adoption as I was.  I am going to write that letter as if they are ecstatic to be reading it.  I am going to tell them about my life and ask about theirs.  I am going to do all of this with expectant hope.  I am going to do it.  Now I just need someobody to prop me up as it all shakes out.  It is not an option to not send it this time.

My chest hurts. Breathe, Jenni.