Um, so yeah, my mother didn't do anything bad on my birthday, but my birthmother sure did. I didn't get a card from her so I scanned my email to see if she wrote and sure enough, at 11:20 this morning, she did. And uhhhh, this is what I got:
Yeah, I saw this and was like.....what??? She not only forgot my birthday, but FUCKING TALKED ABOUT MY BIRTH IN ASSOCIATION WITH SOMEONE ELSE'S DEATH ON MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY! Geezus. I am ADHD but I am not and will never be that ADHD!! WTF?
Here is my letter back:
"Hi (birthmother's name),
I’m going to be honest with you—fully, and for the last time.
Today is my 48th birthday. We’ve known each other for 28 of those years. In that time, you’ve forgotten my birthday more times than I can count. You forgot my 40th. And now, on my 48th, you sent me a long letter about your lawn mower, your cats, your friend’s death, your knee, and your neighborhood complaints—but never once said Happy Birthday.
You mentioned my birth—but only as a backdrop to someone else’s passing. You told me that the woman who was at my birth just died, as if that somehow honored me. As if I should feel special to be included in a grief letter. Do you realize how incredibly tone-deaf that is? To use the day I came into the world to highlight someone else leaving it? And you chose to say this ON my birthday??
I don’t understand you.
If I had given up a child for adoption, I would have celebrated that child’s birthday every year—even if I never saw them again. You’re lucky. You got to reconnect with your child. And yet, you treat the day of my birth like it doesn’t matter. Like I don’t matter to you.
I know you’re not my mother—not in any real way. But even a stranger might have the decency to say Happy Birthday. Hell, my son’s friends messaged me today and they don’t even know me. Have you ever heard of Google Calendar? You can actually input important days into it so you don’t forget. But then again, the day would have to be important to you, so I guess that would defeat the purpose.
You didn’t check on me after my hysterectomy a few months ago. You didn’t message me during COVID. You didn’t show up when it mattered. And when you did call before my surgery, I thought it was to offer support. But no—you just wanted to ask if I could get you drugs, that I do not have and you know I don’t have. Do you even hear yourself??
I’ve said nothing for years. I’ve protected you from the consequences of your own behavior, because frankly? I didn’t think it would make a difference. I let it go, again and again, hoping you were only like this a little bit, but instead, you just keep getting worse. So this time? This is the end of that road.
I can’t do this anymore.
You have shown me—repeatedly—that you will not be there for me. That you are not capable of showing up for me in any meaningful way. And I will not keep trying to earn something you don’t have to give. You don’t have to be any sort of mother to me in any sort of way, but you’re not even a good friend or acquaintance. So what’s the point? I am just someone you can ask for favors, or send your “when I remember” newsletters to, without you ever reaching out to me when I actually need it. You remember some stupid thing about a truck I sold a year ago, but you can’t remember I that I had major surgery a week after I told you about it?? Seriously Barbara, what is even wrong with you?
I am so, so lucky I didn’t inherit whatever it is that keeps you from loving or caring about people properly. I know how to love. I know how to show up. I know how to be a mother—and I will never pass on the kind of hurt you’ve handed to me. People always say what a selfless act a mother giving up her child is. But I don’t think that’s the case with you. As most things you’ve done since then has shown me they’re rooted in selfishness, whether you mean them to be or not.
I’m done with whatever game we’ve been playing, Barbara. I’m done hoping you’ll change. I’m done making space for someone who refuses to make any for me. I am sorry it has to end this way, but I’ve put 20 years into this relationship with you and all you’ve shown me is that I don’t matter to you. And rather than me telling myself over and over again to not let what you say or do (or not do) continue to hurt me, instead I am building a boundary to protect myself from further harm.
Please don’t reach out again unless there is an absolute need.
Shay"
I wrote a song about her giving me up, and now I will write one about me giving her up. We've come full circle, ladies and gents. Another door in my life is closing, but hopefully with this, another one will open. To where? I am not sure. But I hope it's wonderful.