Dear J,

It has been almost three months since we last emailed.

Your response to our introductory email was very positive. But very short. You said you needed time. That it was all too much, but that you had so much to say. We responded that we understood and we told you we’d be here when you were ready. We’re here. We’re still here.

Ponce’s social worker, SC, insists the proverbial “ball” is in your court and that we should wait for you to reach out. But I want you to know that my heart breaks for you. And that I wonder all the time if you wish we would reach out again. We didn’t forget you at Christmas. We won’t be forgetting you at Ponce’s upcoming birthday. Everything we said in that letter still holds true.

SC says that you have told him that you don’t plan to put forward a parenting plan for Ponce. I’m not going to pretend I’m not incredibly relieved, Ponce is my life, my every breath. I am also “gifted/burdened” with a super-human capacity for empathy. I can’t tell you how strange it is to have half my brain living in terror of you deciding to contest the adoption, while the other half of my brain dies for you; for the impossible situation you were put in.

You probably don’t know how much we know about you. SC shares all of our discussions with us. As an expert Googler I have tracked down a lot of information about you (at least the you leading up to January 2010) on old MySpace and Facebook accounts. We know that you grew up in the system. We know you have anger issues. We know that you went to Paris once. We know that you have posted photos of yourself online that you will probably regret posting one day. We know that you can play the guitar. We know that you like to skateboard. We know what kind of music you like. We know other things about you, a lot of it unflattering, some of it scary. But I know that despite those things that we know you are/once were, that there is a chance that had you been given the opportunity, you would have changed everything so that you could have been a great dad to Ponce.

The unfairness of how this all played out is not lost on me. I think about it daily. S didn’t tell you about her pregnancy and she lied about your name in the court documents. It’s the only reason that Ponce was placed with us.

It has been about six months since you found out about Ponce. If knowing how amazing Ponce is doing helps at all, then I’d like to tell you more about him:

Ponce is an incredibly easy-going and happy baby. We are the envy of all our friends. We occasionally have to lie about things like the fact that he’s been sleeping through the night since he was three months old (and I mean 10+ hours here without waking up). He only cries when there’s something wrong (or when a tooth is poking its way through — he has six now! And boy does he know how to use them). Ponce has two dimples. I think he gets them from you. He’s totally stunning. His hair his a sandy blonde/red colour now and it curls when it’s wet or when he gets too warm. He has an AMAZING sense of humour. He knows when he’s being funny and totally hams it up. He can clap now. His daycare provider is teaching him how to “blow” so that he’ll have some success with his birthday cake candles in a couple of months. He LOVES the water. We took him camping for a week when he was five months old. He bobbed around in a great lake and shrieked with delight. He loves his bath. He loves his swimming “lessons.” We love him beyond lunacy.

We haven’t been pushing through our social worker or Ponce’s maternal family who still have some contact with you. We’re determined that you make your decision without outside influence. I hang on to the hope that you being able to make your decision yourself will be something you can look back on and eventually feel some peace about a situation that you didn’t have much control over.

I hope that you’re ok. I’m not naive enough to hope for more than that. I. HOPE. THAT. YOU’RE. OK. And above all, I hope that there are people, or at least someone, in your life that is holding your hand and being gentle with your heart.

Here are some recent photos of Ponce. SC says you printed the last ones we sent and posted them everywhere in your appartment.

Ponce in a Sunbeam

Ponce reads his very first postcard!

Ponce hangin' at Grand-Papa's over the holidays


1 Comment

Filed under Adoption

One response to “Dear J,

  1. Pingback: I may be back … | hold on to your Ponce

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s