For Now, That’s Enough


Turns out a brush with death alters a person’s viewpoint on a lot of things.  I know it has had that affect on me.

Stuff that once seemed really hard now seems. . . .well, less hard. Don’t get me wrong, it still sucks, but it doesn’t suck nearly as much as waking up in the ICU after surgery that was supposed to be an out-patient procedure, a transfusion of blood slowly bringing you back to life.  It still hurts, but not nearly as much as someone thumping on your chest to wake you up after you collapse in the hospital bathroom a few days post-op.

Perhaps that is why I don’t write as much in this space.  This adoption stuff still hurts. It still sucks. I suspect it always will to one degree or another until I take my last breath. But perhaps the letters to my daughter have served their purpose and have run their course, just like the transfusions I received while at UCLA in May 2013. I am alive. I survived the worst thing a woman could experience and tonight, that’s enough.

Perhaps there simply isn’t anything left to say to my lost daughter at this point other than this: I am sorry. I love you. I am here for you when and if you ever change your mind.

And for now, that’s enough.

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15 thoughts on “For Now, That’s Enough

  1. “This adoption stuff still hurts. It still sucks. I suspect it always will to one degree or another until I take my last breath. But perhaps the letters to my daughter have served their purpose and have run their course”

    That’s pretty much where I’m at with my writing too… Writing at my blog was such a big part of my healing, such a big part. As Anna Nalick says so well in her song “Breathe” ~ “If I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me, threatening the life it belongs to”

    Your last words are indeed enough, for what more really is there to say?

    (((Melynda)))

    • Susie – Isn’t that the truth, that once it is all down on paper, it can no longer threaten us? It’s been a long six years of writing for me, but I think I have pretty much worked things out – well, as “worked out” as they can get at this point.

      Hugs to you – M.

    • Oh, I have plenty more to say, LOL. It’s just that these letters have really served their purpose. Six years ago, I was at the beginning of *FINALLY* allowing myself to own MY truth, of acknowledging in a very public way the very private tragedy adoption has been in my life. I have worked through a great deal of my grief, anger, and pain. It’s still there, just now I can make sense of it, I can wrap my head around it and it is no longer a big jumble of discordant noise in my head and heart.

      Perhaps my daughter will change her mind (whatever it might be at this point.) Perhaps she won’t. My only hope is that she does what is true and right for *her.* If building a relationship with me is true and right for her, then I will embrace it. If not, then I will embrace that as well.

  2. Loving hugs to you. Please look after yourself. I find too that all I have left is to tell my son that I love him. And I do with all my heart and soul. In the end, he heard.

  3. You are so correct.. I am only 6 years in and the pain is still so real. I pray your daughter changes her mind as I pray someday mine will want to love me as much as I love her and her twin brother.

    • Oh my, you are still a babe in the woods with this adoption journey! Sending you love and hugs – this birth mother gig is a tough one, isn’t it?

      As I replied in a comment above, my only hope and prayer is that my daughter does what right for her own soul, what is healing, and what brings her peace and helps her find her true center. I used to pray that she would change her mind, now I only pray that she finds wholeness and loving kindness on her journey, wherever it might take her.

  4. So glad you have reached this point and will still be writing, it’s a huge milestone. Hope you are feeling better, a brush with death is so often a wake-up call in so many ways.

    • I feel a bit better each day, though I think I am reaching the point of my “new normal.” They said about 2-years post op will be as “good as it gets.” I have another few months, so hopefully I will see magical, drastic improvement by then.

      And I am grateful it was just a brush with death, not a slow tango.

  5. Melynda, thank you for openly sending your message to others of the pain of the adoption process. In reading of your deep love and longing for your daughter, it gives me hope that my birthmom will eventually decide that I am worth having contact with. (At 53, why should I yearn for this?)

    All the best to you.

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