Dear Birth Mom,

I don’t know you. I’ve never met you. But I know of you and your story. I’ve tracked you in jail and sent our social worker to meet with you. I’ve prayed for you. And I’m grateful for you. Because of you we have so much love and light in our home. We’ve got 2 J’s. Two of the most hilarious, resilient, amazing boys.

Today on my front porch during our routine health and safety visit with the boys’ social worker, we were informed that effective today, your rights to the J’s have been terminated. It makes me horribly sad that you are missing out on these two incredible boys. And ecstatic because they are another step closer to being ours forever.

I want to thank you for giving them life. Out of all the options on the table and regardless of the substances they were exposed to while in the womb, you gave them life. A chance. An opportunity. For that we are indebted to you. I know you love them. I know that you want what’s best for them. I know you wish things were different. In a way I think you did the best you could with what you had but you knew that it wasn’t enough. You knew that living in a junk yard or a car, or letting them dig through trash for food, like animals, or exposing them to crime and drugs was f*cking bullsh*t.

I saw your Facebook post at 3:26am on Mother’s Day – a repost of a video from 2015 of tiny versions of our J’s jumping in a kiddie pool, giggling and goofing around – it looked like pure joy. I’m so glad you got to experience such a great memory with them. They are absolute treasure and we are so privileged to be able to give them the life that they deserve. Maybe you will get to see them again someday. Maybe it will bring your heart peace to know that they are thriving and successful. I want that for you.

Who knows… maybe we will be sitting next to each other at the J’s high school graduations. Or dancing with them together at their weddings. Or planning baby showers together. (Who am I kidding? I’m such a control freak…. that probably won’t happen, but it’s a nice thought… maybe you’ll be there though with a 10 year sober chip in your pocket).

I wish you well. I wish you enough. Take care of yourself.

With love,

N & M