I’m not someone who lives my life with a lot of regrets. For the most part, I give myself grace and trust that I did the best I could at the time, given what I knew, and the life experience I had.
Sure, there are things I wish were different from my past:
- I wish I hadn’t let my mom give me a permanent in middle school. (Silly, but true.)
- I wish I hadn’t stopped playing piano after 12 years when I was in high school. (A medium-sized regret that still stings.)
- I wish I had gone back to the hospital at midnight on June 11, 1994, when the doctor called to say that my father’s kidneys were shutting down. He died alone at 4 a.m. that morning. (Obviously, a big, fat, huge regret.)
- I wish I hadn’t let the hairdresser at the cheesy Kidz Kuts place chop off my daughter’s gorgeous curls when she was only two. (There’s definitely a hair theme here…hmmm. Again, silly—but still painful to look at those photos! I guess every kid needs at least one bad haircut in their lifetime, right?)
- I wish I had spent more time with my birthmother, Kathy, before she died in 2023. (True—but we did pretty well, considering we lived a thousand miles apart for most of the 24 years we knew each other.)
Which brings me to my first article ever published on Substack.
I recently attended the Concerned United Birthparents Retreat in Atlanta, a gathering that supports people impacted by adoption—adoptees, birth/first parents, and other members of the adoption constellation. There were several pairs of mothers and sons, and mothers and daughters in attendance.
Hearing the adult daughters and sons call their first/birth/biological mothers “Mom” was both sweet and endearing…and also hard for me. Really hard.
That’s what inspired me to write my new essay: “I Wish I Had Called Her Mom.”
It’s a reflection on adoption reunion, love, loss, and the language of family—topics that are deeply personal to me, but that also touch universal themes of connection, belonging, and healing.
I hope you’ll read it, comment on it, and share it—especially with anyone you know who has experienced adoption reunion.
And after you’ve had a chance to read it, I invite you to reflect on your own life:
What do you wish you could have done differently?
The small regrets.
The big ones.
The medium-sized ones that still whisper at the edges of your heart.
Then ask yourself—How can reflecting on your regrets help you live more intentionally moving forward?
If this question—or my essay—brings something up for you, I’d love to hear from you. Comment and let me know what’s on your heart and mind. I always love hearing from you.