The Absent Father in the Adoption Triangle

An excerpt from my memoir - Choiceless: A Birthmother’s Story of Love, Loss, and Reunion

“In an effort to keep my relationship with Kenny alive, and to communicate with the one person who I believed to be my ally, I regularly wrote to him. I prattled on about the pregnancy, my friends, my adventures, my work, and how much I missed him. I begged him to write to me.…..Eventually, he did write a letter. I read that letter over and over. I stared at his handwriting on the envelope, feeling a strong connection through my printed name that had been inscribed with his own hand. I believe that was the only written communication I ever received from him. But, I was so thrilled with that letter! Months later, when my heart was broken and my grief gave way to anger, I destroyed that letter along with any evidence of him. Years later, I could not recall a single word of it.”

I wanted to get married. I wanted to raise my child with her father. As a naive 17-year-old girl, in love with an 18-year-old boy, I believed with all of my terrified heart that we could make it work. He did not. He was college-bound and not at all ready to be tied down to me or to a child. It took him several weeks to muster the courage to share his decision with me, while my girlfriend and I were excitedly making wedding and baby shower plans.

Never mind that we were teenagers. Ignore the fact we were an interracial couple in a 1970’s Midwest city. I knew if we didn’t marry, there was no way my parents would allow me to stay home to birth and raise my bi-racial child.

I went away. I lived at the home for unwed mothers for five months. One month after our daughter’s birth, I took him to see her, and begged him to marry me. I thought if he could just see her…..but, he held firmly to his decision, and within a matter of days, I relinquished my parental rights…..forever.

I can’t help but wonder….did he ever feel like a father? Did he take a second look at little girls who would be close to our daughter’s age over the years, as did I? Did he think of her at all? And, on Father’ Day….did he want to scream it from the roof tops that he too was a father?

If no one has ever told you, Happy Father’s Day, Kenny! I wish you could have known her.