Shiloh
my little one child. I miss you so, so much. I'm so afraid that you'll never know the love i have for you, you'll never get the chance to feel it in your heart. That scares me because you deserve to know ALL the ways you're loved. You deserve to know that there are people in this world who love you that you don't even know, that haven't seen you since you were a baby. That goes to prove how beautiful your soul is - that without ever getting to know you, there are still people who cherish your memory and still love you unconditionally. I am one of those people. I am the person that carried you in my womb, felt your heart beat in my soul before you were ever even born. You are a part of me, Shiloh. You are my first born child. You are my daughter.
I am your mother. And I'm so, so, sorry for the mistakes I made when you were a baby. Because those mistakes cost me my own baby girl, and I've never been able to unmake them. They have haunted me for your entire life. Losing you was the most terrible thing thats ever happened to me, and it didn't just happen once. It happens every single day. Dealing with that has never been easy, and I made even more mistakes trying. When your little brother born last year, it woke something up in me that had been dormant for years. When i lost you, i lost my chance at being a mom, too. You were given a new family, with a new mother, a different one. There was no room in that new life you were given for two moms. Your new mom was so scared that i would hurt you. She felt like she needed to protect you from any pain i may have caused you, so she and your new dad kept me far away. I understand theyre need to protect you, because i was very sick, and maybe i would have. I understand why they wouldn't take the risk. I didnt fight them. I have so much guilt surrounding that part - a better mother would have fought them, tooth and nail, right? I must not have been a better mom then. I thought i was doing the right thing, allowing you to have a better mom. A better childhood. I wish i had more faith in myself all those years ago, but i was so sick, and it made me so sad. I still don't know what the right thing to do is. And I am sorry to you every day.
But when your brother was born, i remembered the privilege of being your mother, because i felt it once again for him. As it turns out, im a good mom. I'm not perfect, but I'm better. I'm a better mom. I'm even having another baby in July, and i cant wait. your brother (we call him Dex) is amazing, he's the best thing in my life, and he's inspired me to begin healing the wound that is left behind from losing you. i don't want to make any more mistakes.
I pray for forgiveness - God's, and yours too. Being able to experience motherhood after having it ripped away has enabled me to forgive myself, which i now see had to happen first. The faith in myself that i wish i'd had when you were a baby has been discovered. I know now that I'm worthy of being in your life, even if only being allowed to send you christmas presents. Keeping you away from me is no longer in your best interest, if it ever was. However, even though my eyes have opened and my perspective has changed, your parents' haven't. I wasnt even allowed to send your Christmas present to your house this year, i have to send it to your grandparents' house instead. Your adopted mother still blocks me on Facebook and texts me one-line responses when i try to engage her, involve her, involve myself. She makes her boundaries clear at every opportunity, and i know i am not a welcome thought in your home.
Theres nothing more that i can do. Ill send you presents like i should have been doing regularly all along. I'm seeing the world now with a mother's eyes - seeing the world as your mother. I'm sorry I wasn't able to before. I want for nothing else at all but to be a presence in your life in whatever way you choose to have me, to be a positive influence in your life, for you to know all the love you have in the world, to know your little brother and the little brother or sister that's growing inside me as i write this to you now - because they will absolutely know you. Your picture is on our refrigerator, Shiloh. We are here.
I know you may never read this. I hope that if you ever do, you're at least 18. But i had to talk to you somehow. I had to say these things. I had to scream it from the rooftops. But i can't do that for real, not without100% certainty that it wouldn't have negative consequences for you, that it wouldn't in some way do you harm or hurt you. I know that all i can do is be available to you, should you ever want to know. To just make sure your adopted family has access to me, whether they take advantage of it or not, should you ever ask it of them. And they do. So, i know that I may go another decade before getting the chance to see you again, but i know that one day you'll want to know. You'll come looking. You'll want to know who you came from, where you get your artistic flair and your blue eyes. And I'll be here. We all will.