I remember sitting in my bedroom, the small room smooshed between the small living room in front and the small kitchen in back. I remember sobbing uncontrollably, holding my round belly with both hands, caressing my little one while she dozed in her peaceful bed.
Dear Birthmother, We are more equipped to raise your baby than you are. We have more money and more love to give. You can fill a hole in our lives by ripping one in your heart. And you will do it because you are desperate. You are a pawn on our chess board, and you do not matter. Sincerely, The Parents Your Child Deserves
I sent this year's dumb letter in the mail yesterday. It was probably the lamest dumb letter I’ve written them, especially compared to last year’s emotional keening about Summer’s Middle Eastern roots and the fears I have for her in Trump’s Muslim-hating America. I should have known better than to get emotional – they didn’t… Continue reading Dumb Letters…and Cookies
We had no idea our family was incomplete until we met him...