Mom, It's Her

JD age 5

*Kalyn is my baby that I placed for adoption 16 years ago.

Our quaint rental house sat on a half-acre lot at the end of a secluded back road in Spanish Fork, UT. My oldest son, JD, was nearly 4 years old, and Evie, my daughter, was 3 months old. Our kitchen table sat next to a wide window that faced out to the front of our house. The kitchen was in the smallest corner, of a house that felt oversized for our family. I loved to wake up every morning and open the skinny metal blinds to welcome the sun in. The smell of syrup and the early morning fall air filled the room. I cooked pancakes while cradling Evie in my arms. JD had his face smashed against the glass window, watching a few kids line up for the school bus, right outside our house. He watched them every morning as they grabbed their backpacks and raced each other to the front of the bus line.

“Mom, it’s her!” JD yelled out to me.

“It’s who honey? “ I answered back.

“It’s Kalyn mom. I see her right there! She’s waiting for the bus.” He said with confidence.

I dropped the spatula I was using and hurried to the window. I couldn’t help myself. I knew it wasn’t her, I knew it wasn’t even possible, but my heart leaped at the possibility. I flung to the window with unnecessary anticipation.

"It’s not Kalyn. She doesn’t live here remember?” I said, as I eagerly gazed out the window next to him.

There was a girl outside, about Kalyn’s age, with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes that looked very much like her. I could see the resemblance immediately. There was so much hope inside of me, that it could be her. I wanted it to be her. I wanted to look out the window and see her there, waiting for the school bus. I wanted to hear my son call out her name and wave good-bye with his tiny hand and face smashed against the glass.

“That little girl does look a lot like Kalyn, doesn’t she?” I stated, as we both kept our eyes on the kids outside. 

“I thought it was her mom.” He said disappointedly.

Right there, in the beginning of a mundane day, I had to teach my 4-year-old what I was still trying to teach myself.

"Some day we may be able to meet Kalyn. It will be a glorious reunion and we will all be very excited to see her. But for now, we have to wait and we can send her love and light every time we think about her."

I settled him in a chair at the table, with a plate full of pancakes in front of him. I put Evie in her high chair, and quietly walked back to my cramped bedroom. I sat on the hard cold wood floor, wrapped my arms around my knees and buried my head into my legs to muffle the sound of my cries.