Kerstin Lindquist is an adoptive mother and author.
There’s a woman out there somewhere that I miss.
They gave birth to the children I now call my own. Each woman is different and unique, like their babies. Both situations are beautiful, yet heartbreaking just the same.
One gave birth to this beautiful girl, my daughter.
One delivered this incredible boy, my son.
They were the best days of my life and the hardest at the same time. When I took my baby girl in my arms; I said goodbye to the woman who had become my friend and the center of my life for five months. I said goodbye to the girl who had come to depend on me to help save her.
It was easier for her that way. So, I walked. We went through one of the most intimate and traumatic events of our lives together and I mourned her, still mourn her, even as I finally became whole as a mother at last.
I look at my daughter and see her birth mom in the way my daughter sighs or cries and I’ll be overcome with longing to see that woman again, to hold her, to hug her and clasp hands and look in her eyes and giggle like girlfriends. To tell her it’s good. It’s all so, so good. We did it.
She did it.
What she wanted for her child, the dream, the wish, it all came true and so much more. We are overwhelmingly blessed, and her child is thriving. I don’t pretend to understand what is going through her mind and heart these days–years later, but I pray she can somehow feel the love I still have for her, and that her daughter has, her son has, even if they haven’t quite figured out all their feelings just yet.
Without these women somewhere out there the world would be without this beautiful girl I am honored to raise. There would be no big brown eyes of this loving boy she created. And there would be no me because I wouldn’t have survived. I was drowning in my own sorrow of loss. My husband, our biological child, none of us would be who we are.
I’m so grateful, and yet,
I miss her.
Oh, how I miss you
Please know this…
She’s beautiful like you and so smart and loving and talented and overly sensitive (like me) and there are parts of her that are hard, so hard, I think we both knew that at one point in her life there would be some darkness to illuminate in her, but she’s worth every second.
I’ll keep chasing her light, I promise.
He’s sweet and smart and full of this fire for life. He loves his sisters with a passion that’s beyond blood. He’s stubborn, and loud and smart beyond his years. He is the boy we both dreamed of when you told me you couldn’t keep him. He’s so much more than I ever knew I needed.
Especially on their birthday, I want so badly to talk you. It’s not fair. It’s selfish of me. But there is no other woman on earth who loves this child as much as I do, and I yearn to share that with you. To give you one more hug and tell you again, what a beautiful human you created.
It’s a miracle. You know that. You could have decided different. But you didn’t. You chose to grow every beautiful inch of this child, selflessly, and then give them to me. You chose to protect them then give them a better future. Those decisions saved their lives and changed my life. Saved me. Truly saved me.
We did it, mamas. We survived what we thought we might not. The pain of the wait. The fear of the outcome. The family and friends who didn’t sit by your side. The lonely nights of doubt. The scary reality of a birthday. The months of lawyers and court dates and finally the hardest part of all. The end. The wait was over and so were we. An added loss we didn’t expect.
We did it. You did it. She is the best thing you ever did. He is the best decision you ever made. I am so proud of you, and I will always, always think of you and miss you.
Adapted, with permission, from: Where’s My Crown for Acting Like Everything Is Fine? Royally Surviving Life’s Waiting Periods. By Kerstin Lindqust.
Kerstin Lindquist is a mom of three and author of multiple books including one on adoption; Five Months Apart; A Story of Infertility Faith and Grace. She is an award-winning broadcast news journalist and recognizable TV Host. See more at www.kerstin-lindquist.com
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