“Doubt is uncomfortable, certainty is ridiculous.” – Voltaire
I dined with an old friend Friday night. It was a lovely evening. Three glasses of great merlot, some steak, a bit of pasta, and a fantastic bruschetta.
At one point during the conversation, she inquired about my daughter.
"Have you met her yet?" friend asks
"Yes. I met her when she was born. She was lovely." I responded.
My friend smiled.
"No, you know what I mean. Have you met her since reunion?" friend asks, adding a bit more clarity.
"No. I have not." I say with some discomfort in my voice.
"WOW! Its been three years now. Thats incredible. She has no interest in you at all? How about her brothers? Doesn’t she even care about them? Isn’t that odd?" friend inquires.
"I don’t know. I really dont know how she feels about anything." I respond starting to get uncomfortable. My throat constricts and I know I will start to cry if this conversation goes much farther.
I try to end the conversation by suggesting my daughter is conflicted, angry, emotional, maybe even at me.
"Well, she just doesnt know. She doesnt know how it could have been if you kept her" friend says.
I start to hear a crackling noise. I am sure my blood is boiling. THIS sentiment again. This belief that everyone has that if I had kept my child I would have been a street urchin, a meth addict, maybe a prostitute. THIS belief that my daughter would have ruined my life if I raised her where my life is better because I didnt.
What sort of message do we send our children when lead them to believe their lives and their mothers lives would have been in the crapper had they been able to remain together? I will say it again. I got on with my life. I did okay. I surived. (I guess?) However, I was permanently damaged by the loss of my child to adoption. It was not a good thing by any stretch of the imagination.
I choke back my anger. I realize the saddness and angst of a few moments ago has been shielded by anger. Its one emotion or the other these days.
"You are right. She doesn’t know. It might have been absolutely wonderful. We might have been fine. I might have dressed my only girl in party dresses. We would have colored hair together. Giggled, discussed boys and life and literature. A shame, huh? We might have been just fine."
Friend knows me well enough to pick up the hint of sarcasm in my voice.
"I am sorry" she says. I know she is saying is sorry for more than what she had implied.
"Yeah, so am I" I respond.