I really don’t regret much of anything that has happened or that I have done in my life. I am not one to run away from or to blame someone else for my mistakes. I’m just not. No one usually has to twist my arm for me to do something. I admit I have done some things that have warranted me asking myself “what the fuck were you thinking at that moment?” but nothing that has made me regretful. Honestly, I will do something before thinking about the consequences. I admit not a very responsible or adult way of behaving but it surely made life at Baylor a bit more adventurous.
Sigh but there is one and only one thing I do regret doing in my life: giving up my daughter for adoption to my aunt and uncle. I wish I would have listened to my friends who would have done absolutely anything to help me raise her and go to school. I think about how my life would be different right now. How this unquenchable void in my heart will never be filled no matter if I have more children or not.
I remember the day I signed my parental rights over to my aunt and uncle. I remember it like it was yesterday. I can still hear myself crying uncontrollably. I honestly thought that by giving her to my aunt and uncle that everything would be okay. That she would be well taken care of. That I would still be able to visit and be a part of her life. That my family and I would not be as we are right now. But I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I went to visit once when she was only a couple of months old. Never have I ever felt more alone with my family than I did for that short visit. My aunt didn’t want me to pick her up. She wouldn’t leave her in the same room with me. I had no idea what I had done to even warrant that. It felt like I was no longer their niece but the young naïve girl who give them her child. It almost seemed as if she [my aunt] felt like I was going to take my daughter from her and never bring her back. Yes I wanted her back but I wasn’t going to ruin her childhood nor was I going to steal my aunt and uncle’s joy. But for whatever reason my aunt felt otherwise.
Whatever the reason, my relationship with my mother’s family has not been the same. When I graduated from Baylor, someone from home saw me walk across the stage
I haven’t spoken to anyone in at least a decade. I email my mother every now and then but nothing more than that.
Lord knows I would go back in time if he’d let me but I know things happen for a specific reason, regardless if we understand that reason or not. I just wish it didn’t hurt so much.
Thanks for reading…
The Southern Yankee