Adoption has a place, this is the price.
My mother was asked by someone fairly close to her, if she still thought about me after all this time. The title was the immediate answer. Stop and think about what that means to a mother. To me, it means that not only did she think about me, she would have wondered if I was okay, healthy, happy, sad, alive. I can only begin to imagine the level of pain she lived with because without knowledge, I doubt that she would think only good thoughts, not have any worries about the life I was living, rather, they would include if I was living, what my new family was like, was I loved, was I okay. I compare her words with the length of time I thought of my son every single day – before I had days, and then weeks go by – without thinking about my son. …
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