To My Mothers, With Gratitude

To Judith, the woman that adopted and raised me, to the woman that taught me everything, to the woman that took in her neighbor's granddaughter as soon as she ended up in foster care, these are the words I’ve never had the chance to say to you.

I was standing in the dining room at my foster mother’s house when she handed me the phone and your voice came through the other end. I don’t remember if you called me Sissy or if you said Jenna, but you asked if I wanted to come live with you. You being the only person I knew in this chaos that I was thrown into at a mere five years old was my savior from the unknown. I said yes and you came to get me the next day. That day felt like a dream come true. I was finally with someone I knew and loved again.

You were my biological grandmother’s neighbor when you first came into my life, and I was just a wee babe. You bought me a bunny costume for Halloween that I wore entirely too much. You babysat me and I played with your kids almost every day when we lived in the yellow house. You said I started calling you mom before I was taken away from my family. Before I was adopted, I always loved the days our families would go grocery shopping together. All of us kids would play Super Market Sweep, you and grandma let us ride the horses and play the claw games, then we would all go home together. The kids would watch The Fresh Prince of Belaire while you and grandma made us dinner. I loved those nights, I still do.

After you adopted me, I would spend my nights on your bed while you taught me how to read. I didn’t know this at the time, but your bed would be a staple of my childhood. You always let me come watch movies or documentaries with you no matter the content. I realize now that you were the one who ignited my love of any and all things forensics. Those days and nights are some of the fondest from my upbringing. Those were the times I felt most loved by you.

You taught me to always question everything. It doesn’t matter about who or what, as long as I could gather enough information to form my own opinion. You taught me that being skeptical to what one says is an important value to have. After all, you can’t believe everything your told, right? Thank you for that.

You were always honest with me about my adoption and my biological family, even if it hurt my feelings. You gave something to me that many adoptees don’t get, you gave me complete transparency. You never left me in the dark when it came to the why and how I ended up adopted. You even told me the truth about my mother’s death when my own flesh lied to me about it. That integrity is something I have always been extremely grateful for.

We have never really had a close mother/daughter relationship. In fact, we rarely speak to each other to each other today. Even though we didn’t have a great bond while I was growing up and I always felt as though I was the odd man out, I’m eternally grateful that it was you who adopted me. I know that I’m not your daughter and you aren’t my mom, but I am your daughter, and you are my mom and I love you. Thank you for your honesty and for molding me into the person I am today. Thank you for teaching me that truth is one of the more important things in life. Thank you for giving me the siblings I grew up with. They are some of the most beloved people in my life. Thank you for everything.

To Julie, the woman that created me, the woman that taught me how to draw stars and gave me my very first lesson on death when my favorite BluJay died, these are the words I’ll never be able to say to you.

I was taken from you in December of 1999, right before Christmas. I remember the tree and the presents in the living room, and I remember the knock on the door that separated us for the rest of our lives. I remember you handing me my favorite doll to which I gave it back to you and said, “I’ll come back” and I did, but I was a little too late. I remember the last time I ever saw your face. You were crying and red from the screams you let out. You just lost your baby.

I want you to know that I’m not so mad at you anymore. Not like I used to be. I know you struggled with your addictions and mental illnesses, I myself have also. My experiences with my own cravings and ailments shed a light on the things you went through. I even lost my babies too. During these times I cried often, and I hated myself for being like you. I told myself that I was better than you, that I wouldn’t die from this like you. It took me a few years, and a lot of hard work, but I got my babies back and I’ve been clean for over seven years now. I did this alone, Judith did not help me, just as you didn’t have the guidance you needed from your mother, I didn’t either.

A few years ago, my little sister found me one random day. It was a really bad day for me. My daughter’s dad was just released from prison, and I thought my relationship may have just ended over something unrelated, to keep it short. Then there she was. Her message introducing herself in the corner of my phone right out of nowhere, after 20 years. My mental health was on the fringe, so I thought about ignoring her, but I didn’t and together we found the rest of your babies. In December, all six of us will be together in one room for the first time in all of our lives.

Sometimes it feels like you’re not real, like you’ve never actually existed. Even after I’ve cleaned your urn and held you in my lap, sometimes you still feel like a dream. For a long time, anytime I saw a woman resembling you, I would get sad and think to myself “Why wasn’t it you? Why was it my mother?”. Occasionally, I wish I could forget you all together. Just to make things a little easier.

I have a hard time loving myself sometimes. I know you did too. I haven’t always appreciated this gift of life you’ve given me and sometimes I really don’t want it, but no matter how much I want to throw it away, I can’t do that. I know that you’re proud of me, of everything I’ve accomplished on my own. I’m in college now with a beautiful family. I’m putting myself out there and writing more. I know you thought that I would be the most outspoken and the most willing to task risks out of all your children. Aunt Janet says you’re right. I’ll make waves and I’ll speak my truth just as you said I would.

I want to thank you for giving me strength through my hardest times, even if that power came from anger. I want to thank you for teaching me forgiveness, understanding, and the importance of being true to myself and my story. I want to thank you for your gentle parenting when I did have you. You were never bad to me. You just couldn’t straighten yourself out. And now I’m forever required to remember you for longer than I ever got to know you. I’ve loved you all my life and I will for the rest of it, but you won’t be here for any part of it.

As my mothers, both of you have blended into making me the strong-willed woman I am today. I love the qualities I have of each of you. My promise to both of you is to keep to my roots, keep to my strengths, and to make each of you satisfied with the life I lead. I’ve been lucky to have you as my mothers and there are no women that could ever take your places in my life. I love both of you with all of me.

With gratitude,

Your daughter