I found out last night that Monkey's birth mom passed away. Not from the cancer she had battled and overcome, not from her drug or alcohol addiction that she was recently beating, but from a random, freak illness... Monkey barely knew her, but I pray that his father and I will have the right words as he gets older and has questions.
When I wrote this letter back in July, I had no idea that three months later Monkey's birth mom would be gone. I meant every word, and I wish more than anything that Monkey would have been able to have BOTH of his mommies in his life. Until the day we meet again in Heaven, I will hold our little boy twice as long and love him enough for both of us.
The last time I saw you a year and a half ago, I was comforting your hysterical infant while you cried silent tears. It was your scheduled supervised visit with Monkey, and for once you showed up. You stood there and watched as I tried to reassure your child that he would have fun with his Mommy, to which you uttered the words that broke my heart. "It's okay... To him, you are Mommy." You weren't angry or bitter like some birth mothers would be. You were utterly defeated. That visit was your last. You never came back.
There are so many things that I want to say to you... So many things that I want you to know about our little boy... At 28-months-old, sixteen months after Monkey went home to live with his Daddy, I am still his Mommy. Monkey's no longer the newborn who you held in your arms in the hospital. He is a non-stop bundle of energy, talks like a 4-year-old, and is so full of love. Your "American English baby" as you once called him is picking up bits of Spanish from his Daddy, and definitely keeps us on our toes trying to follow his conversations in a mix of his two languages. I know you'd be so proud of what an amazing little boy he has turned out to be.
I think of you every day, and pray that you are okay. Every time Monkey throws himself into my arms and smiles up at me saying, "There Mommy is," I think of you and grieve a little for what you are missing. I grieve for what Monkey is missing by not knowing the Mama who risked her own life to have him... The Mama who always cuddled her baby boy and smelled like Loves Baby Soft perfume... The Mama who immersed herself in English lessons because she wanted him to understand her... The Mama who hung on my every word to learn even the smallest details about her baby boy... The Mama who won her battle with cancer and who tried so hard to overcome the addictions and depression that resulted from that fight...
I want you to know that I love Monkey with a Mama's fierce love. I want you to know that I will try to love him enough for both of us. I have no doubt that you love him. During the year that you tried so hard to overcome your demons, I saw that love firsthand. I know that the only reason Monkey is here at all is because of the love that you had for him even before he was born. You carried him against medical advice. You fought so hard for him before he was even born. You fought so hard during the time that he was in foster care, but as hard as you tried, you just weren't able to heal. You fought for him though... As hard as you could... And I want you to know that I will make sure he knows that when he's old enough to understand.
I pray every day that you are still fighting to heal. I pray that you can feel our hope for you even when you don't have that hope for yourself. I told you one time that Monkey needs you, and I still believe that is true. My hope is that one day, Monkey will be walking the stage at his college graduation and looking out to see both of his moms loving and cheering him on. The mom who gave birth to him and who fought and overcame her demons in order to be a positive influence in his life... and me, the mom who raised him, who kissed all of his hurts, and who loved him with a Mama Bear love so deep that I was changed for the better.
Until that day, I will love our son for the both of us.
With love and hope for the future,