I dreamed of you when I was a child; thinking you were so much older than you probably are.
Years of wisdom creased your crinkled eyes in my dreams.  I felt the strength that you gave me, just by your spirit passing your courage into mine.  I felt invincible, I was a survivor because you are a survivor.  I am still a survivor because you let me go, thank you.  Thank you for letting me thrive and to be free.  As much as I would like to be with you or even hear your voice, I know I cannot.  Not in this life.  Perhaps in the afterlife, when our souls are free from all suffering, may we reunite once again, oh Birthmother.  Yoon Young-hee.  My birthmother.

A few weeks ago we took a trip down to Indiana to bring one of my best friends “home”
This was a boy who has been living with us on and off for six months,
His mom he hadn’t heard from in years finally added him on Facebook,
He was thrilled, he couldn’t wait to see her. He had heard through the grapevine that he wasn’t the only child anymore.
She convinced him that she had cleaned up her act, knew how to take care of a child.
He could barely contain his excitement, he packed up his things and was ready to go.
With a heavy heart we drove him across state lines.
Dear his birthmother,
I say birthmother because you will never be his mom though he tries to convince himself that staying with you is the right thing to do.
He feels like he owes you for carrying him in your womb for nine months.
Thank you for not ending your pregnancy like you did to those before him. This was the first, and quite possibly the only good thing you have ever done for him.
Your son is the most loyal boy I have ever met.
This is a teen whose life possessions fit into two garbage bags
I understand that I have no idea what you’ve gone through.
But I do know he sat by your side at five years old through chemo treatments and hospital visits. I know as a daughter of a cancer patient, seeing your parents die before your eyes makes a child grow up far too fast.
I have more junk from birth to age five then the possessions he has ever had in his lifetime.
How dare you threaten to throw his stuff away when we arrived,
His art project thrown on the floor, his arms left empty when waiting for a hug.
As soon as we crossed state lines I saw signs that said "Turn around" and "Is this the right thing to do". I've never been one for superstition but my heart skipped a beat.
He’s never lost his smile in the seven months I have had the privilege of knowing him
Hugging him like he’ll escape
He was not born into our family tree but he is my brother
How dare you act like you are entitled to him.
I hate that we are leaving him homeless without the ability to contact us.
I can tell by the tears ebbing in my mother’s eyes that she feels like we are passing the torch onto the next family
A few weeks ago we spent days finding his things, it was a game of hide and go seek putting his past together like a puzzle.
He has had more homes than I can count on my hands.
My mother has more love for that boy in her ******* then you do in your whole body.
I get it, sometimes the world spins a little too fast and you can't keep up with the blows life is going to deliver.
And yes you are going to fall.
But after you abandon your child for eight years with a man you know will beat him and starve him, how in God’s name can you still consider yourself a mother?
He has been taught his whole life to say little, eat little, and do far too much.
He talks about quitting school just to get a job to pay for your cigarettes that have replaced your chemo to make up for everything you’ve done for him.
And prays that he will never end up like his dad
But how can he not with this vicious cycle of neglect?
He will be the one trapped in the web of the system when this is all over.
I hope your son’s life is worth your unlimited cigarettes.

The world will never forget May 5th,
when my birthmother’s piercing call disturbed the atmosphere,
Forcing the Monday clouds into hiding.
It will never forget how the rivers dried up,
After the months of mourning my coming,
And Jordan’s death,
How within that nurturing cradle I ended his existence,
Before he even had a chance to live,
The twin I’d never come to know,
A name I’ll never forget.
The new moon shriveled at my arrival,
Bringing forth a moonless night.
My birth being the beginning of their war,
As my grandma and birthmother fired their weapons,
Mere inches from gashing each other.
I became the ruin of their lives,
The downfall of my birthmother.
And yet this catastrophe lit up the sun,
So that even at night,
A halo circled the Earth,
“Wished for child”
My future parent’s hope,
A candle in their devastation,
To the stranger’s willing to save my life.