My husband physically got me out of bed in the morning. The first time, I was not liking being verticle, so I got back in bed. About 15 minutes later, he came in and got me out of bed again, threw my arms around his neck as if to piggyback me and walked me to the couch, ignoring my protests. He was fixing a friend’s computer and I guess just wanted the company, and he didn’t seem to mind that the company was puny…I found it all very sweet.
If you’re going to be sickly and on the couch all day, you couldn’t ask for anything better than a Star Trek movie marathon. During the commercial breaks I read articles and adoption blogs. Eventually, I asked my husband, ‘Do you think I offended [my son] by contacting him?’ True to his truth-teller form he said, “Well, at least you give a sh**,” and he went on to expound by pointing out that it wasn’t like birthparents who refuse contact or who lets their family member go all the way to Vietnam and then asks for money (referring to a documentary we watched called Daughter from Danang). I looked at him, smiled, took his hand and said, ‘Thank you, baby.’ I needed that.
And you know? I do care. I never stopped caring, and I never will. That is the truth, and I’ll always have the truth. Sometimes one has to let the truth be enough. Hearing it? Helped.