by Candace Cahill

 

1209 words can be made from the letters in RELINQUISHMENT; here are 12.

 

Semen

The seminal fluid within which sperm is transferred.

The average ejaculate contains 200-500 million sperm cells.

It only takes one.

 

Requisite

What does it take to have a child? To be a mother?

Sure, lots of people were single mothers, but what I saw and heard and read everywhere were stories of the failures. Always the failures.

Single Mother Drowns Child in Bathtub

Woman Drives Off Cliff with Children Strapped in Car Seats

Boy Found Locked in Basement, Mother Arrested

All you need is a fertile body.

 

Resent

The positive pregnancy test at Planned Parenthood didn’t surprise me because, as before, my urine smelled funny. But this time, as I walked home, I began to think about baby names…

…Forrest, Foster, Cameron…

Instead, my boyfriend tricked me into going for “parenting counseling” at an agency whose “decision-making program” was designed to coerce me into relinquishing my child for adoption.

 

Relinquish

No one used that term at the agency.

“You’ll place your baby for adoption,” they said. Not give away; not surrender. Their intention, I think, was to soften the reality that they wanted me to abandon my child.

“Giving your baby to a wealthy, upstanding couple is the selfless choice,” they said. “The wise choice.”

And I desperately wanted to be wise.

“You’ll move on. You’ll forget,” they said. “You can always have more children.”

I did none of those things.

 

Nurse

There were no congratulatory balloons.

No sympathy cards.

Even the hospital personnel seemed disinclined to linger in my maternity room.

 

Inherent

I am a mother.

I carried and birthed a baby; therefore, I am and will always be a mother.

But because of my origins – my history of poverty, abuse, and neglect – I believed I could not be a good mother. Instead, to qualify as a good mother, I was persuaded to give away my baby.

The mental acrobatics needed to believe that surrendering my child was the best choice is astounding.

Now I wonder: how gullible was I? How did they trick me?

In the end, I am still a mother.

A grieving mother.

 

Enshrine

The way the open-adoption agreement was presented to me insinuated that the adoptive parents were obligated to provide updates each year, but that was not the case.

Unlike the court appearances and other duties they were required to perform before becoming his lawful parents, our agreement wasn’t legally binding.

 

Timelines

They agreed to send updates once per year, on his birthday, until he turned eighteen. This promise weighed heavily in my decision to surrender my child; without it, I would never have done so.

Each update included a letter describing how he was growing, what he was interested in, and photos of him playing, living, and thriving. And with each envelope’s arrival, I’d sequester myself with the promised treasure and grieve his loss while trying to honor his existence. In years one through eight, I devoured the updates and caressed each snapshot as if I could reach through the image and embrace my son.

Then the updates stopped.

I contacted the adoption agency to nudge the adoptive parents into following through with their promise. But when I asked what could be done to prevent this from happening, they responded: “Nothing. You signed away your rights long ago.”

I didn’t receive another update until two days before he turned eighteen.

 

Miles

At the age of twenty, after two years in reunion, he finally asked to meet in person.

I drove 2500 miles to hold my son in my arms.

 

Relish

His shy smile – lips just like mine.

The cowlick in his hair – just like mine.

His hands – just like mine.

Our single afternoon together.

 

Resilient

Thirty years have passed since I signed over my parental rights—thirty years since I gave away all claims to my precious baby boy.

It took twenty-five years to realize I was coerced, brainwashed, and gaslit into believing I was not good enough.

But it took thirty years to see that that wasn’t true.

I could have kept and cared for my child if only I’d had support, education, and guidance. I may not have been the best parent, but I could have done it.

Resilience lies in the ability and willingness to face that truth over and over again. Like a vise grip in my chest, I torque down against the pounding of my heart as the words echo in my skull: “how could I have given him away?”

 

Lie

Adoption is always beautiful.