Dear Ms. Feverfew –
I have a bunch of sisters. Five of them in fact. This is a story about one of them, Elly. (She’s the adorable blond haired, blue eyed baby in my lap. This picture was taken while we were living on Guam – I was about 5 and she was about six months old).
I was the perfect age when she was born and simply adored “mommying” her – it was like having my own real-life baby doll. I loved playing with her. I loved holding her. I loved being with her. I loved it so much that I remember asking my mom if I could hold her and she would say, “Only after she wakes up from her nap.” So I would go wake her up from her nap so I could play with her. (Eeeeek! Sorry for doing that, ma. You must have wanted to ground me for the rest of my life, especially considering you had seven other kids and getting Elly down for a nap was probably your one of your only reprieves for the day).
At any rate, Elly has started reading these letters (Hi Elly!). The other day she sent me this message on Facebook about the time period when she found her self a single expectant mother.
“…for a split second I contemplated adoption instead of trying to do it on my own. I contacted an agency down in Utah County. I was scared of the consequences of adoption because I had seen what it had done to you, but I wanted to know my options. I didn’t understand the depth of your pain at the time because I think you were in coping mode and had just married that asshole, but I saw the pain deep in your eyes. I could feel your desperation in trying to get over it. I wondered if I chose adoption if I would be able to ever move on. I had a pulling in heart that told me there was no way I would ever be able to. When I called the agency I was immediately turned off by the fact that when I expressed fear that I would never get over it and when I asked if there was help for me if I decided to keep my baby that they abruptly disregarded my feelings and pushed for me to come in and meet with a counselor. I never went in to talk to anyone and I am so glad I didn’t. I decided then and there that I would do whatever it took to raise my child. I decided that I was enough with or without P. to do it. If it is any consolation your loss at the time saved me from experiencing the same pain and I will forever be grateful for that.”
So I guess some good came of all of this…of us. She has been a great mom to her wonderful C., now a 6 ft + tall strapping 14 year old football playing uber-smart genius. And in spite of this thorn plunged into my heart, I am grateful she was spared the peculiar agony that only a first mother knows. I hope that as I begin to share my story with other single expectant mothers they might come to the same conclusion to which Elly arrived: She was enough and that she would do whatever it took to raise her sweet baby.