I am not able to imagine what you look like. Yes, I was not able to see you. If I had seen and hugged you, I would not have been able to send you away.
But I want to imagine how you look-your eyes, nose, mouth, hands, feet, head, everything. I sigh, and sigh again.
My heart can neither laugh nor cry. The song that I used to sing for you and the heart with which I used to wait for you, all those are worthless now without you. This time in which we cannot be together is nothing but painful for me. Just sitting here, missing you, my eyes fill with my tears without realizing it.
I cannot see nor touch you, my dear baby, so I call your name quietly in my heart. Although you are not here with me now, I miss you very much, my beautiful flower. You will always be loved in my heart. You are clearer than a lotus flower, brighter than morning dew, and prettier than a rose, my beautiful flower!
The first thing that I want to tell you is that I am sorry and that I love you. I would really like to see you. I wanted to raise you by my own hand and in my own bosom.
I am sorry!
Finally, I want you to be happy with your parents who will raise you better than I could. I hope and pray for you with folded hands."
Did you start out thinking that this was one of those "post-abortion healing" letters that women write to their aborted children? It could have been. I certainly could have said everything in this letter, as it is all true for me, particularly the eloquent "I call your name quietly in my heart". It describes my SICLE perfectly.
Near the end, when I was so sick, my love for my child was still strong enough that I really had to rationalize on every front to get through the abortion so I could get out of that illness. One of the rationalizations was that, on a spiritual level, I would simply be forwarding my child on to God. This was my understanding of the ultimate process. While it is true that my child did go on to God (Psalms 27:10), I had obviously simplified the concept of what was to occur. Thrusting my child into the giving hands of God entailed losing my child, and that is never an easy thing.
I Wish For You A Beautiful Life is a book of letters written by Korean birthmothers. It's where today's opening letter was found. Currently adoption is mostly open in America albeit with varying degrees of openness. A minority of birthmoms choose to have a closed adoption, which is the old school brand of true relinquishment where a bmom just doesn't know anything about the kid ever unless she gets that timid, anxious knock on her door thirty years later.
Adoption is the "old school" variety in Korea. Most of the adoptive parents lie to their adopted children so that hopefully the children (and others) will never find out they're adopted. In Korea it is a"bad" thing to be adopted, and adopted children are openly discriminated against. Some Korean bmoms seek international placement of their bchildren because they feel other countries are not as negatively biased and society will be kind. Also some bmoms feel that they will have a better chance of one day being reunited with their bchildren at some point in life, though they realize it will be many years later if at all.
In some small way I can relate to that feeling. My husband has assured me (as have other Christians) that I will be with my child again some day, but it fails to bring me the kind of comfort that I see others enjoying. For me, it is like the adoption situation. I feel that I gave my child up to another, much better Parent than I could ever have been. But the next time I see this child we will not simply pick up where we left off. We will meet, know one another, and, if it exists in heaven, perhaps even have some special bond. But it will not be what it would have been here. I will never get that back.
I am not suggesting that abortion and adoption are the same. In fact, one bmom told me that she would place a hundred more children before she would ever abort another one. Although I have never made an adoption plan for a child of mine I imagine that even though the loss would probably be terrible, it would be easier than knowing my child had been slaughtered alive like a pig. That's not love, and you want for your child to have love. You wish for your child a beautiful life.