Site icon Something Worth Fighting For: Life Goes On

Why can’t I stop thinking about you?

I didn’t want to write today, well, honestly, because quite a lot has been going on. And I just don’t even know how or where to start with it all. Last night was a night. And not a good one. But today is Halloween, aka my kids Favorite day. So I really wanted to focus on making it a freaking awesome day for them. (By the way, I succeeded. They loved it.)

But oh, my birth son. That one. It’s just…this is a very familiar feeling. It always comes in the months surrounding his birthday, and to a slightly lesser degree, the holiday season.

But I’m feeling it now. The “you are the only thing on my mind and I’m constantly sad about it and missing you” feeling.

I know it’s because of the stupid video. I knew it would hurt and bring up a lot. But what I didn’t expect was for it to create and bring up a sick to my stomach kind of worry. I’m worried about him, and I didn’t expect to feel that way. Honestly, I’m too emotionally tapped to get into that now. But I will soon.

All day today I just kept thinking about him. Wondering what he was dressed up as for Halloween, wondering what he was doing today, all of that.

I kept waiting for a picture. Hoping it would come, anxiety rising all day, the longer I waited. I started to wonder if I’d even see a picture today. Maybe I’d just never know what my son was for Halloween this year.

But then I saw one. (A posted to social media post type of thing.) And I saw that him and his brother were in Harry Potter themed costumes.

Ugh. Guys. Seriously…not even 30 minutes before this, my husband and I said we were going to do Harry Potter next year. (It’s my thing. My younger son is flat out named after a Harry Potter element, so I’ll once again as you to take your potential judgment out the door 😂)

But all kidding aside, like…it fucking hurt. Last year for Christmas I got him the first 4 graphic novels in the series, not even knowing if it was something he was interested in. It’s not like they ever tell me anything. I don’t even know if he gets the things I send, or if he knows it’s from me. But, me, in the sense of like “oh, well this is your birth mom” type of deal.

I’m having a really hard time with all of this lately. And it honestly is surprising and seemingly out of nowhere. Because we’re not close to his birthday, and we’re not super close to the holidays. So…

Again. That fucking video. It brought up all I expected it to and more. Then again, I’m really not sure if I started feeling like this before then, or if that was the triggering event, but either way.

Thinking about him…the constant worry and hurt and grief over it… it’s the one thing I just can’t shut off.

I haven’t spoken to his adoptive parents since June. Since Father’s Day, when I texted them. It’s longer than usual to go without communication with his parents, and I’m really feeling it.

I almost texted them tonight. I really did. But I didn’t feel strong enough to handle any of the possible outcomes.

I have a lot more to say, but I just can’t say it without feeling so many things. This pain is quickly turning to anger, and I don’t think my anger is totally justified. I’m not even sure it’s real anger. I think it’s misplaced, and I think most of that feeling is comprised of fear and worry.

But those things hurt. And anger hurts just slightly less. It allows me to place blame, at the very least.

He’s in my dreams, he’s in my nightmares, he’s in all of my thoughts. I wish he wasn’t, because selfishly, it hurts more than I can handle on a consistent basis.

I’ve never questioned my decision to place him for adoption as much as I am now. I’ve never once in 7 and a half years, thought I’d be more equipped than his parents are. (Remember, I basically hate myself and have absolutely zero self worth.)

But I’m worried. I can’t shake this feeling.

I’m not rich, I’m not the best person in the world, I’m a hot mess and so are my kids (but in like…all the best ways).

But I do live in the special needs world. I know I AM well equipped at handling the day to day tasks of that world. The therapies, appointments, the obsessive watching for regressions and skill loss and problems… I lived that life myself. I picked up on in extremely early on with my kids…because I lived that life and I saw it repeating in them.

I’ve told his parents absolutely everything. I’ve given them all the information, given them the name of the fucked up gene, told them it comes from me.

I saw him. I saw him speak and I saw him move and interact. He reminded me SO much of me. Of my other 2 sons. And that very fact…

The fact that he felt SO familiar…it was devastating and heartbreaking.

I’m worried. I’m scared. And I’m angry.

I just fucking miss him. And I’m so afraid that he isn’t okay. And I’m not there to recognize it and advocate for him…


I wish I could stop thinking about him.

(I’m so…so sorry.)

I miss you always….but today I missed you extra.

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