Checking morning e-mails. Approving comments from yesterday. Listening to the rain finish drizzling after early morning loud, loud, loud storms. Just breathing. And listening to music via LastFM which is how I find new music on a regular basis.

Song comes on by Chantal Kreviazuk. I enjoy Chantal. Anyone who loved Dawson’s Creek and/or had the sountrack(s) knows Chantal. Others do as well. I listened. And I started crying. My tears match the rain drops. Early morning washing away of the emotional pollen of my life.

You can read all the lyrics here. Let me grab a few that speak to me. On so many levels. In so many ways.

If I could be anyone for you believe me I would
I’m not ashamed not ashamed to be

I am not ashamed to be her birth mother. Ah, but haven’t I said, “I am not proud to be a birth mother.” Read the difference in the lines. I am not ashamed to be her birth mother. She is part of me. I will never be ashamed of her existence and my participation in that existence. And, yes, I’d be anyone she needed me to be. Wouldn’t we all do that for our kids?

Its hard for me to know, well maybe I should just let go.
But what if it all means something?

I think many birth parents struggle with that; I know some have verbalized that internal worry over the past few months. I struggle with it. It is hard for me to know. I wrote about it, kind of, yesterday. Do I matter? Is this all going to be okay in the end? Should I just “let go,” though, as birth mothers, we know that there is no emotional letting go. But. What if it all DOES mean something? And that’s why I keep on, really. In hopes that my actions, words and presence do mean something. I have to hope.

I know it all means something.

Maybe I’m not there yet. But I will be someday. I have to believe that I mean something. To all of my children.

I’ve been doing a decent job this year. I made it a goal to write the Munchkin one letter per month. And mail it. I’m infamous at writing things or buying things and never sending them… not just regarding the Munchkin. In general. I don’t know why I have that issue but I do. Perhaps I just hate leaving the house and the Post Office sucks in general. (Only on street parking. Not really awesome with two kiddos.)

Anyway, I just mailed off a small package for the Munchkin this morning. (Instead of parking at the Post Office, I took the double stroller and we ran errands around downtown having parked at one end of town in a nice parking lot. This is a great idea. Except for the fact that the postal employees were slow and BigBrother was mad and… well… it ECHOES in the post office.)

Sometimes I feel like my letters are dumb. I say the same things every month. I just let her know what we’re up to and what her brothers are enjoying that month. I included two pictures of them from this past month as well. And a picture that BigBrother painted. (And one for JD that BB colored for him; they both love Thomas the Train!) My letters never profess this amazing love that I have for her; I feel that would be “boring” for someone her age. And then I worry, at the same exact time, that I SHOULD be writing those things because what if she looks back over these someday and says, “Didn’t she love me? Why didn’t she gush over my awesomeness?” It’s a strange balance to find. I hope I’m doing the right thing, saying the right things at the right time.

Because? Sometimes, as I’m writing, I am so overcome with emotion that I have to write letters to my child at all. It doesn’t make any sense. She’s not old enough to be “away” at college, which is when my Mom wrote me some letters. I should just be able to say things and she should just know. But she doesn’t live in this house and, as such, I need to do things to let her know that she is loved and special to our family. All without knowing for certain that I’m doing it in the way that she needs.

Also? The Post Office won’t let you put Delivery Confirmation on First Class packages that are less that 1/4 inch thick. They have to be sent Priority for that to happen. But I only took enough cash to send First Class with DC. And so, no DC. I hope it gets there. I have no way of knowing now. Stupid Post Office. They’re on “my list” today.