To The Woman Who Carried My Child
I cannot bring myself to hate you. You were my daughter’s first home. I could never hate you. I do not understand or agree with or pretend to sympathize with the choices you made that led you to this moment. But I do not hate you.
My daughter will know that she is wanted, treasured, adored, cherished. She will know that we yearned for, prayed for, searched for her, for many years. She will be provided with a soft place to land each day, where she can discover herself, give and receive love, feel the safety of comfort, be surrounded by a cheering section, learn the skills to care for herself and experience compassion for others. Maybe you need compassion too.
My daughter will dance wildly and boldly, letting her spirit get caught in a song like a rainstorm, spinning free, not worrying about who is watching. My daughter will sing and be sung to. She will soak up the sun and feel it’s warmth rise up inside her, spilling out of her smiles. She will lie in the greenest grass and imagine all of the things she wants to be someday. Maybe you were not a dreamer.
I could never hate you. Your blood runs through her veins and your life is a part of her story. I forgive you, though you don’t know me and you haven’t asked. I forgive you, though you may not see the repercussions of your choices. I choose to hope for the best for your life, because I truly believe that everything happens for a reason. I love my daughter, every single bit of her, and therefore, on some level, I love you too.
