The grand essentials of happiness are: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for. – Allan Chalmers
A commenter recently asked about my daughter and why I haven't written much about our reunion in recent months.
The simple answer is that there is not much to say. It is what it is and where it is. I believe the experts call where I am at "limbo".
I do know where she is, where she works, that she recently moved into her first home, and that she seems, from my distant view, happy. I follow her on twitter (she did not block her updates or block me), her personal website and her flickr. In fact, I check on her daily just like I would her brothers I am parenting. I cannot help it. I need to know she is still alive. Lacking regularly contact with her that would assure me (and likely calm me down), I have to check in on her. If I had a relationship with her, I would likely be more confident and less stalkerish. I would know who she is, was, will be as a person and I could chill. I can't. I don't know any of that and so I stop in and say "hey" even if unknown to her in some oddball Internet virtual world. I usually do so in the morning, right after I arrive at work, coffee cup in hand and say "Hello [her name], Good morning to you. Hope you have a great day." to myself.
I do still feel the pangs of want. I still want to send her gifts, help her, be more involved in her life, send her a housewarming gift (or two or three) for her new place. Somehow, I manage those desires (often by giving to someone else in her place). As her birthday approaches and I am still banned from mailing gifts, I revisit my idea of establishing a foundation or scholarship in her honor. (Yes, I could likely find her mailing address but since it was not offered to me I assume she is not open to me mailing her anything and so I don't).
We will be coming up on four years in "reunion". I put that in quotes because I struggle to classify our non meeting, not ever speaking, rarely emailing reunion as a reunion yet I realize it is far more than most mothers have. Hence, limbo.
I sent her a short email for Christmas and I will send her another on her birthday. I did not hear back and at this point I no longer expect to. As noted above, it is what it is.
That is where we are at.
However, call me crazy, I still remain hopeful. I have a number of things that prop up this hope, the most notable of which is this feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that someday my daughter will care and will find the strength to tackle that which prohibits her from having a relationship with me and her brothers. In addition, I have many friends who have been in my situation. As recent as yesterday, my friend M, in reunion for over six years told me things were finally warming with her child. She, like me, sent notes for six years and never received a thing in return. Son is now communicating more with M and things look hopeful – for now. I am happy for her.
For now, my focus continues to be on myself and the work I do to help others. I believe there is nothing I can do for my daughter at this time other than be open to her.
And I am.
And I always will be.
Unlike hundreds of other adoptees still searching for their mothers, my daughter knows who I am and where to find me.
And so I wait.
And I hope.