I had a son. I was his mom and he was my son. He was ours. And for a very short time, we loved him. For a very short time, he was part of our family.
Then his birth mother retracted consent and we had to give him back.
I don’t often think of Baby K. It’s too painful. But the other day I stumbled across his photo and the pain of his loss came rushing back.
It’s odd how life works. That we can bury pain and trauma and then one day it comes at us like a sucker punch to the gut. Seeing Baby K’s photo was like that. A sucker punch that left me doubled over and gasping for breath. It left me tearful for days afterwards, trying to sort through all my emotions.
The hardest part is not knowing what happened to him. He’d be around four years old now. I think one of the biggest reasons I’ve shut down the thoughts of him is all the not knowing. All the what if’s…. they’ll drive me over the edge of my sanity if I have to spend any time thinking about the what if’s….
Is he loved.
Is he safe.
Is he warm.
Is he fed.
Adoption is hard… for so many reasons and it’s not the ones you think.