A not so Happy Birthday

I love birthdays. It doesn't matter whose it is, I love to celebrate the day the world was given the gift of each of us. I love to buy birthday gifts that I know the recipient will love, to do things that they enjoy, to spoil them in any and every way possible. There is only one birthday I do not eagerly anticipate. You could argue that this birthday is the most important one I have ever experienced. The most life changing and amazing one. But it doesn't feel that way, it feels like my heart is being shredded into little pieces.

Twenty-one years ago I was blessed to have the most perfect baby. His brown eyes were big and bright. His fingers curled around my pinky. His mouth was shaped like a cupid's bow. His birthday was the first day it snowed the winter of 1993 and I held him to the window and told him next year he would be able to play in it. I was given the gift of three days to spend with him. Three days to feed him and snuggle him and introduce him to family and friends. Three days to memorize his scent and cry and face. And after three days I no longer was his mother. After three days he was introduced to another family and set of friends. He was described as scrumptious and others cuddled and adored him. And I missed him. Viscerally. My twenty year old body had barely begun to heal from his cesarean birth, was prepared to nourish and feed him, and my heart was shredded into little pieces.

This talented, handsome, smart, amazing young man is a gift to those who know him. I know he is loved and cherished. I know he was and is wanted. But I don't know what his hands look like. Or the way his voice sounds. I wouldn't recognize his gait or be able to make his favorite dinner. Does he like blue? Green? Red? I have no idea. What kind of music does he prefer? For which sports teams does he root? I have no idea. I cannot determine his mood by the way he says "Mom." He has never called me that. And he will never. And I hate remembering. I hate that I never read him a bed time story or cheered him on while he played soccer. I never saw him in a school play or pushed him on a swing or argued with him about his homework. My list of nevers is far longer than what I was able to share with him in three days.

I love this young man who I only knew for three days. I make wishes on stars for him and hope each birthday is the start of his most wonderful year so far. And I also wish that one day I will be able to say "Happy Birthday" to him and tell him how very special he is to me.

* I was able to visit him a few times before his adoption was finalized. This photo was taken the last time I saw him, in April of 1993. I believe in adoption and what a gift it can be 51 weeks a year. But for one week in February I miss my son more than any other time.