I saw them. The people that neglected and confused my boy. The people that loved him, but couldn’t care for him. The people that some days I feel a hate for that I’ve never felt before.
With our adoption being granted and our adoption worker finishing up with us, she mailed us what she had left on file for Jonathan; pictures and contact information for his two brothers who live with his paternal grandparents, a cd of photos and letter from his birth mother containing their full names and address.
Gord and I huddled in our room for 5 minutes quickly reading and flipping through the pictures on my lap top while Jonathan tried desperately to get our attention by sliding things under the door and knocking every 20 seconds. We saw images that screamed neglect, and images that showed a very smiley happy beautiful boy. We shoved it all in my drawer, hiding it from confused eyes, and there it sits.
We haven’t had a chance to think much about it out loud, although I know we both are sorting it out in our heads. All that we do know is that J would be unable to understand it at this point. We are still working on ‘mom and dad chose you, we wanted you to be our boy so we adopted you’. Which is met with great anxiety and questioning and reassuring. Constantly.
The grandparents are desperate to hear from us, desperate to know about J and how he’s doing. Soon we will start email communication to assure them that all is well, but I’m not quite ready for that just yet.
For now we enter a new phase in our adoption journey. With evidence and information connecting him to his past, we have a piece of him that we haven’t until now. Names, images, a link.
More importantly, J will have information connecting him to his history and answers to questions that may arise.
Although, I can imagine this is just the beginning of having more questions than answers…