I have opened Pandora’s box. I’d like to put the lid back on and walk away, please. Where is my rewind button when I need it?
My oldest child is a lovely girl of 16, whom I had at the tender age of 21. I was actually 9 months pregnant for my 21st birthday. Yeehaw! I rang in my 21st year with banana popsicles and the Simpsons.
Her biological father, to put it mildly, was a putz. I won’t go into detail, but he moved out when she was a month old. I may have greeted him at the door one morning after he stayed out all night, and asked him if he need help carrying his things to his car. I also may have then carried his belongings out to the car for him, in thick black trash bags. It is also possible that I then politely closed the door and never looked back.
He signed his rights away when she was 18 months old.
He had another daughter when I met him. She came to stay with us a couple of times, before I got pregnant. She was a charming little thing, about three years old. I was pretty smitten with her. He made her mother out to be a horrible beast, who wouldn’t let him see his little girl. I felt so bad for him and his sweet, funny girl. I was heartbroken when I realized I’d never see her again.
As my own daughter grew, I was very candid with her regarding her past. Recently, she began showing interest in her biological family. Namely, the father-person and her older sister. I told her I would do my best to find them. And now, I have.
Thanks to the amazing world of social media, I have found my daughter’s sister’s mother. Did you get that? Complicated much? For the sake of ease, we’ll call her “M”.
I have spent much of the past day talking to “M” via Facebook messaging. And though she’s been lovely, the whole process has opened wounds in my heart that I didn’t even know existed.
Sometimes, putting together the pieces of an unfinished puzzle is a painful process.