I spent the better part of today with my oldest son. We took a walk around the town, and we went to the library, and I listened to him dream out loud. He wants to be an actor, and has managed to push his D in math to a B, and his music teacher sees promise in him as a singer. (I am so proud of him!)

When I got pregnant with Phoenix, whom I placed for adoption, my oldest son, Kenny, was 7 years old. I didn’t think I could ever love anyone else more than him. I felt like the Grinch. But when I held my youngest son in my arms I knew my heart had tripled in size.

Being with my oldest son today, just loving him and being there for him, with no rush or worry about time, was awesome, to say the least.

Later that evening, after having spent a full yet wonderful day with him, I spent some time with a friend from high school. We talked about a lot but we traversed into stuff about kids, of course. She knows my story very well and has been a great support. At one point I shared a dream of mine, that I wait for patiently.

While Phoenix grows and becomes who he is meant to be, I will watch my oldest grow, and be involved in his life as much as I can be, but I can’t be involved in Phoenix’s life. Sure, I’ll get pictures, and his adoptive mother and I will talk and share stories as our children grow older and wiser. We will also have this one child that she knows and loves and is a parent to, while I am only the person on the other end of the phone when we talk.

I love the sound of his voice. It reminds me of my Kenny’s. I took so much for granted when Kenny was 2, 3 years old. I took it all for granted. I can remember his small voice only because I hear Phoenix’s from time to time. Now Kenny has a boy’s voice with a hint of puberty at the brim.

Today I did not hold his hand for the first time in years. My baby is growing up. Knowing I’m a birth mom to an almost-3-year-old is heartbreaking because I am watching my tween grow into something I know nothing of. His gentle heart remains a part of him, but the baby is leaving, and I don’t know if I can let go.

Phoenix is loved and nurtured. He is absolutely adored. He is surrounded by a supportive and caring, protective family that will watch him grow and know what it feels like to hold his hands while they cross the street.

They will know the joy of his small-boy voice, and his joyful heart, and I’ll watch from a distance.

Maybe in the future I will have a day with both my sons. Until then I will strive for joy when there is sorrow, and peace when it feels like war within my heart and soul.

One day I can look Phoenix in the eyes and tell him I love him and maybe he will say he loves me, too.

One day, perhaps 15 or 16 years from now, I will have a day with my sons.

I can’t wait for that day.

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