My Birth Daughter's Third Birthday Letter - 2003 by Terri Rimmer
Aug. 6, 2003
Dear McKenna:
Yes, it's that time of year again. Time for your annual birthday letter.
You'll probably read back on one of these one day and think: "She's corny," but anyway.
I've been reflected the past few days as to what to say in this letter, your third one. I can't believe it's been three years. I can still remember what it felt like to have you in my belly and how active you were.
I know your mom has big things planned for your third birthday on the 15th and I hope you eat some cake and that your appetite is better.
I want so much for you, the things I wish for, dream about, planned on, yet have always heard that it's bad to live you life vicariously through your children and have see the damage that can do.
Luckily for you and I you won't have to bear those burdens. Instead I can just imagine with excitement what you'll be like, think about the personality that has already formed you, one that will conquer the world, and whatever else the world brings, I'm sure.
Sometimes I see older children and wonder what you'll be like, what your personality, habits, mannerisms, dreams, and hopes will be and it makes me happy to envision it in a word that I hope is at peace by the time you get a little older at least.
There were times this past year when I was wasn't sure if I was going to be on this earth with the war in Iraq going on and I thought about what a shame it would be if that happened.
Because I want you to know the pleasures, surprises, and fun; happy things I've known like walking on the beach, digging your toes in the sand, and thanking God for the moment, laughing with friends, escaping to the movies, reading a great book and possibly writing one, working at a job you love, the playfulness of your pets and the unconditional love they bring, the quiet understanding between friends over a sentimental matter. These are only the tip of the iceberg of things I wish for you.
I know in the past, my letters have been somewhat sad but today, this week, this night I am hopeful. I feel differently that I have ever felt, more connect, prosperous, though my finances have not changed. The hopes and dreams are still there as I still have my childhood spirit living inside me.
One day you'll understand what I mean. But for now I can just write this for you in hopes that your big brown eyes will see it in your lifetime.
You have a great life just like I promised you that you would when I held you in my arms and delivered you to your new parents. Thank God for that and for so many other things that have been granted you in your brief time here on this earth. Things I could never have given you but know that your fantastic parents provide.
In my recovery group there are only two women who have voiced support for my decision. The rest I have come in contact with since having you have expressed a profound disappointment in my adoption decision, fears, doubts, judgment, and ignorance. Although it still bothers me the way others react to my clear decision. I don't get upset or angry like I sued to and i have met others who do give me positive feedback and sometimes a hug.
I have always said that it is one thing to drag myself through rough times but a whole different matter to do it to your child. You, the child, should never suffer for poor decisions on your birth mother's part. That I could not take.
The icing on the cake for me, the the true gift, is getting to see you grow up and being lucky enough to live in a time when adoptions are more open.
And so this year, I will do what I do every year on August 15, your birthday. I will release the balloons corresponding to your age (three this year since you'll be three) at the park where we had Placement Day. I will pray a silent prayer like I always do as I watch the balloons descend up to the clouds. I will not make any appointments I will think about and pray for you. I will already have mailed your gift and card. I will smile when I imagine what fun you're having at your party. I will see my friends and send another adoption letter to the adoption website that published my writing regularly and first published my adoption journal two years ago.
And I will revel in the fact that we both are blessed and that you and I have been granted wonderful people to raise you and bestow upon you their worthy gifts and talents and amazing ability to be great parents.
I always wanted a daughter. I have one, just not with me, but that's okay. You are with me in spirit, in dreams , thought, prayers, writing. Your pictures hang on my walls and are held in my wallet. You are what I brag about. You are what I treasure among my many blessings.
I love you and hope you have a festive birthday, one of many more to come.
Love, Terri
©
Dear McKenna:
Yes, it's that time of year again. Time for your annual birthday letter.
You'll probably read back on one of these one day and think: "She's corny," but anyway.
I've been reflected the past few days as to what to say in this letter, your third one. I can't believe it's been three years. I can still remember what it felt like to have you in my belly and how active you were.
I know your mom has big things planned for your third birthday on the 15th and I hope you eat some cake and that your appetite is better.
I want so much for you, the things I wish for, dream about, planned on, yet have always heard that it's bad to live you life vicariously through your children and have see the damage that can do.
Luckily for you and I you won't have to bear those burdens. Instead I can just imagine with excitement what you'll be like, think about the personality that has already formed you, one that will conquer the world, and whatever else the world brings, I'm sure.
Sometimes I see older children and wonder what you'll be like, what your personality, habits, mannerisms, dreams, and hopes will be and it makes me happy to envision it in a word that I hope is at peace by the time you get a little older at least.
There were times this past year when I was wasn't sure if I was going to be on this earth with the war in Iraq going on and I thought about what a shame it would be if that happened.
Because I want you to know the pleasures, surprises, and fun; happy things I've known like walking on the beach, digging your toes in the sand, and thanking God for the moment, laughing with friends, escaping to the movies, reading a great book and possibly writing one, working at a job you love, the playfulness of your pets and the unconditional love they bring, the quiet understanding between friends over a sentimental matter. These are only the tip of the iceberg of things I wish for you.
I know in the past, my letters have been somewhat sad but today, this week, this night I am hopeful. I feel differently that I have ever felt, more connect, prosperous, though my finances have not changed. The hopes and dreams are still there as I still have my childhood spirit living inside me.
One day you'll understand what I mean. But for now I can just write this for you in hopes that your big brown eyes will see it in your lifetime.
You have a great life just like I promised you that you would when I held you in my arms and delivered you to your new parents. Thank God for that and for so many other things that have been granted you in your brief time here on this earth. Things I could never have given you but know that your fantastic parents provide.
In my recovery group there are only two women who have voiced support for my decision. The rest I have come in contact with since having you have expressed a profound disappointment in my adoption decision, fears, doubts, judgment, and ignorance. Although it still bothers me the way others react to my clear decision. I don't get upset or angry like I sued to and i have met others who do give me positive feedback and sometimes a hug.
I have always said that it is one thing to drag myself through rough times but a whole different matter to do it to your child. You, the child, should never suffer for poor decisions on your birth mother's part. That I could not take.
The icing on the cake for me, the the true gift, is getting to see you grow up and being lucky enough to live in a time when adoptions are more open.
And so this year, I will do what I do every year on August 15, your birthday. I will release the balloons corresponding to your age (three this year since you'll be three) at the park where we had Placement Day. I will pray a silent prayer like I always do as I watch the balloons descend up to the clouds. I will not make any appointments I will think about and pray for you. I will already have mailed your gift and card. I will smile when I imagine what fun you're having at your party. I will see my friends and send another adoption letter to the adoption website that published my writing regularly and first published my adoption journal two years ago.
And I will revel in the fact that we both are blessed and that you and I have been granted wonderful people to raise you and bestow upon you their worthy gifts and talents and amazing ability to be great parents.
I always wanted a daughter. I have one, just not with me, but that's okay. You are with me in spirit, in dreams , thought, prayers, writing. Your pictures hang on my walls and are held in my wallet. You are what I brag about. You are what I treasure among my many blessings.
I love you and hope you have a festive birthday, one of many more to come.
Love, Terri
©
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