It was the morning of Friday, February 20, 2015. Our home was buzzing with excitement and energy, barely aware of the freezing cold temperatures outside. So cold the school buses were cancelled and all schools were closed that day. The five of us were bustling around getting ready for a very important visitor. We weren’t putting on fancy clothes, just something nice and casual. I took extra care in applying my makeup. We were all fussing with our hair, trying to get it just right. My 18 year old son even asked me to put mousse in his hair and help him style it. We wanted to look perfect. We went over the plan again — the three kids would drive out to the mall and shop for a few hours. Then they would come home for lunch when I texted that it was time. 

It didn’t matter that school was closed, they weren’t planning to go anyway. This was the day they were going to meet their older brother. The long awaited day we had all hoped and prayed for. This day would be the first time I had seen my first born son since I left him in the hospital nearly twenty-five years ago. He was three days old. 

We didn’t want to overwhelm him by meeting all of us at once. His dad and I thought it best for the two of us to spend some time with him alone. If he had questions, we wanted him to be able to ask us openly. It was really hard for the other three children. They wanted to be there from the start. They were so excited to finally meet their brother. They could hardly contain their anticipation and excitement. Neither could their dad and I. 

At the dinner table the night before, the five of us talked excitedly about what he might look like. Did he have dark brown eyes like each of his siblings and me? Was he tall and thin like his younger brother and dad? Or did he get the short genes from the paternal side of the family? Did he share the same strong resemblance that his siblings shared with each other? We could hardly wait to find out! This day just couldn’t come soon enough! 

I had dreamt, prayed and hoped for this day for a long, long time. It felt surreal, like something in a movie or a dream, not my own life. I didn’t know what to do. What to say to the adult son I had never met? There was so much to say. So much to explain. That would be the hardest part. How could I possibly explain to the son I didn’t even know that he was important to me, that I loved him deeply, and had desperately wanted to keep him? And yet I had abandoned him. 

Little did I know that the excitement and eager anticipation of that day would turn into the most turbulent emotional roller coaster ride I had ever been on. In the coming months I would, for the first time, have to face the pain of my past. I would have to unlearn the skill of being numb. And unearth the secrets that had been buried in the deepest part of my soul as I was forced to feel the loss and the grief all over again. 

I would also discover that the part of myself I had lost along the way had been there all along, waiting to be found.