I wrote this lightheartedly, although a serious topic, based on the numerous stories of other birthmoms who've gone through the "daily death" at the mailbox.
Each and every day I take a walk
Down to my good ol’ mailbox
Years and years, I’m waiting and hopin’
For a letter promised, I’m ready to open
This is a letter unlike the rest
Not a bill, ad, or pesky reader’s digest
Not a check, a package, or a mag
It’s not from my sister, mom, or dad
Seven years ago I gave up my son
Gave my child to a couple who couldn’t have one
Said they’d let me know how he was growing up
I’m still wondering when my letter will be showing up
Each day, I say:
"I was told I’d get an update or two
But I’m still waiting to hear from you!
A picture if I’m lucky, not holding my breath
This trip to my mailbox is like a daily death!"
So ...
Sign it, seal it, and have it delivered my way
‘Cause it’s always best to do as you say
To me, the woman, who gave your child life
Do as I did by him, send the letter, do what’s right!
But, I’ll keep walking, for the rest of my life
Down to the mailbox, rain, shine, day or night
I’ll pester the mailman, if that’s what it takes
Just for a letter, an update, possibly a "thanks!"
Copyright © 2003 Skye Hardwick - Do not use without permission
