I'm happy to report that it has ended pretty well, on a note which, if not actually positive, is at least not crazymaking. And really, we take what we can get.
To jump to the end, Willem and his birth mother (yes, it's her - not some really horrendous cruel joke or conspiracy theory or weird computer virus... though now that I think of it, I haven't entirely ruled out folie a deux...) have been in touch several times now. The early correspondance was basically two or three sentences at a time, with 24 hours in between contact. All the better to scramble your brain with, my dear.
There was a while today, when she bucked the system and replied in about 21 hours instead of the normal 24, and made it sound like she wanted to sever all contact. Which was horrible, and I was, oh, to put it lightly, hovering on 'roid rage.
I wrote this to her then:
Dear M,
I can only imagine the turmoil and confusion and ambivalence that you have been swimming through in the past year. Your decision to contact Willem after all this time was a brave one, and it was a huge jolt to our household.
Your decision to abruptly cut off "this discussion" after three brief emails, that was not so brave. It was hurtful, and cruel. Who does that? Who dangles such a huge, emotion-laden carrot and then yanks it away?
I am particularly disgusted by one sentence in your last email - the one that was along the lines of, "It's disrespectful to your adoptive mother to have searched me out." With all due respect, please, bite me. Don't try to deflect your guilt and doubts from the past 30 years onto my husband. Let's remember that it was YOU that made the initial decision to give him up, and then it was YOU who made the decision to respond to his semi-anonymous letter. He was never consulted, never got the chance to say what he might like. Your actions have made him powerless once again, and I resent you for it.
Because he can't cry for himself, and so I will. You hurt him, and I'll be the mother bear here. You could have decided never to reply to that letter; after a year, he certainly never expected it. He was even respectful enough of your privacy to ask your college to forward it along, rather than finding out your address himself. He has, in short, been an adult.
You'd like him, if you could get past your own stuff and get to know him. He's wonderful. You're missing out.
Maybe you'll change your mind. He wrote you such an eloquent reply, far more than you deserved under the circumstances. And if you do, I'll be polite and I'll be kind. But my heart aches that he drew so many short straws in the parent department.
A very wise friend of mine reminded me that in this life, we have two chances at forming a good parent-child relationship. I can tell you that, no matter how his relationships with his own parents work out, his relationship with his children is amazing. And after this, I'm just that much prouder of who he is... and of myself for hanging onto him when I had the chance.
Angrily,
Kate
Which I never would have had the cojones or presumption to actually send to her, but it felt so much better to write it out. I'd probably have posted it on its own, but blogger was down. Such is life. At least, MY life. I've heard rumors that people have calm and normal lives... I'll believe it when I see it.
Anyway, after her cyber-door-slamming, Willem responded in a very eloquent, non-threatening way, just explaining that he was okay and wasn't pressuring her to *do* anything. And she wrote back and opened that door back up a tiny bit. No big reunions planned, nothing too dramatic (I hope, I hope!), but it's better. At the very least, there's a positive spin on it all now.
And now, after all that spinning, I'm dizzy and tired and I need to sleep. And I will, just as soon as I figure out how to calm down.
