Twenty minutes ago I called my youngest 3 children's birthmom. My youngest son, age 18, was home on a four hour pass from the mental facility and we let them talk. She and I have been emailing for several months now, since the letter she sent me when she found us a few months back. Today is the first time we actually spoke. I always wanted to hate her. I can't. It is so different, hearing things from her perspective. She has the sweetest voice. I told her I wanted to hate her but that I couldn't. I thanked her for the lives and gift of my children. I blessed her and told her I loved her. We both cried.
When my son first got home tonight, his dad and I read a letter that his bmom had written to him this week. It was a beautiful letter. He got the biggest look of joy on his face. He wanted to talk with her. I found the number and dialed, then gave him the phone.
I pray this helps heal my son and his bmom. And us.
I wanted to throw up after the phone call because my son called her Mama, just like he calls me, and told her how much he loves her. He was 3 1/2 when he became our son. I tried to think of how to handle this. "You have two moms and we're not even gay!" I joked. My son laughed so hard! He is gay, and that just tickled him. I asked if he was okay, and he said yes. He said he doesn't feel so hurting.
Heavenly Father, please bless my son and heal him. Please give him strategies to deal with his mental illness of being bipolar so he can live on his own and have a good life. Bless us all, Lord. We are family.
Our son has the best sense of humor. We even make jokes about him being in the mental facility, about being "crazy," adoption, race. It probably sounds inappropriate to others, but sometimes he starts it, sometimes we do. Our family uses humor to get through hard things. We are also scarcastic - unfortunately, the kids get that from me and my husband.
So, tonight we fulfilled one of our son's dreams and made it through an adoptive parent's fear. It all turned out fine. God is good.
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