Dear Birth Mother,

I remember the first time I found out I was adopted. I’m going to guess and say I was around the age of eight, but I could be wrong. My mom and I were sitting at the train tracks, waiting for the train to pass in the midst of a heavy rain storm. She turned back at me and just stared for a second. Its an image I will never get out of my head, because in that moment my life wasn’t the same. My mom continued to tell me a story about a young boy who was given to a family who wanted him so badly. It was a happy story with no rude comments about the person I came from or who my birth parents were. It was like a fairy tale story for kids, but not. To this day, I can still recall dreams I had as a child, where I was at home with you, but I could see my stuff packed by the door. In this dream, you always looked upset, while I was eager and happy. Then, my new parents walked through that door. They took me home with them and I woke up. I had that dream more than once as a child and I always knew it meant something.

Now, we did meet once. We met when I was still in high school, but I wasn’t completely comfortable with it. Before we met in person, I talked with you over the phone multiple times. We became used to the routine of nightly phone calls. I saw myself having a relationship with you, but then it all got messed up. I told you very personal things about myself and you didn’t keep them as the secrets they were. You knew my father would be upset about me being gay and in high school, I wasn’t ready to tell him. Nobody in my family knew, but I told you! One day, I looked out the back window, where I saw my father on the phone, walking through the back yard. He seemed so upset. I could feel it in my bones that you had told him what I wasn’t ready to tell him. You didn’t think about what it would do to our family at that time. You didn’t think of how I felt. You cared about yourself. For that, we don’t have a relationship. When you came to visit my father and I in person, I had no say in the matter. I felt ambushed and foolish. For my father, I made the best of it. I gave you a second chance I guess. Deep down I still knew you betrayed me, when our relationship was still on a thin thread. I didn’t trust you. I didn’t wanna talk to you. No, I am not heartless, because I did feel bad. I am just not the one to dwell on someone who does me wrong.

You were never family. We are blood, but blood is not family. My family are the ones who broke their backs to take care of me when no one else would. My family are the ones who put clothes on my back everyday, and the ones who had food for me to eat. When I grew up, knowing I was adopted, I wasn’t eager to meet my birth parents. I had questions, but nothing major. I knew who my family was, and I wasn’t trying to take away from that. You let me go, so I let you go. You don’t get to come back into my life when you are ready, and decide that it’s time to love me. I was happy, but I wasn’t happy with you.

I do, however, want to thank you. For, if it wasn’t for you, I would never be where I am now. I would not have my loving family, my caring friends, my great job, or my wonderful boyfriend. I have developed a great life, with great people, and all that was because you gave me away. So, for that I thank you dearly. You made a great choice to sacrifice your happiness for my own. So, even though you did something I can’t seem to forgive you on, I will still continue to smile, because at 24 years old, I have a great life. I hope you do as well.


Your Blood, Stephen

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