By Dom Cioffi
Eighteen years ago this week, I wrote a letter to a young woman I barely knew. In that letter, I summarized the first months of an infant boy — the same boy she gave up for adoption earlier that spring.
Every year since, I have written that young woman at Christmastime. I talk about the progress my son has made throughout the year and what his interests are. I also include 20-30 photos so she can see how he’s progressed.
I made the promise to write these letters on the last occasion we were together, which was in court one month after our son was born. On that day, she had the option to legally terminate the adoption and take him back.
Thankfully, she didn’t.
My son had been born 30 days before that court hearing in a hospital in northern Vermont. My wife was in the birthing room that morning, having been invited to join in the experience by this young woman.
When our son was born, my wife was the first one to hold him. That precious moment meant the world to her since she had been unable to conceive a child of her own.
Everyone who adopts worries that the birthmother will change her mind, but that tiny gift of letting my wife hold our son in those first moments, told us that she was committed to the act.
We had met our son’s birthmother two months prior to his birth through a local adoption agency. We had created a photo album of our life and handed it to the agency who then made it available to young mothers who were considering adoption. For some reason, our photo album appealed to this particular woman, so she asked to meet us.
We drove to the agency to meet her on a cold winter afternoon 18 years ago. To say we were nervous would have been an understatement.
They say some things are meant to be. Within a minute of meeting this young woman, both my wife and I knew this adoption was meant to be. (At the court hearing a month after our son’s birth, his birthmother admitted to the same feeling.)
That first meeting was followed by two more informal meetings at restaurants. In those conversations, we shared stories about our lives and interests. It didn’t take long, but we eventually got very comfortable around each other. It was during the last meeting just before the birth that my wife was asked to be in the room when he was born.
I remember walking out to the car after the meal and my wife breaking into tears at the gesture.
A few weeks later, we all met at the hospital. It was a damp, rainy, gray day — the kind of day that makes you feel like nothing good can happen in the world. And yet, here we were about to embark on the greatest day of our lives.
We spent that first night in the hospital taking care of our son just like any other parents. I changed my first of many hundreds of diapers that night. The next morning, we packed up our gear and said our goodbyes.
We had 30 days to get through.
Those 30 days were filled with all the normal things that go on with a newborn, except we had to contend with the possibility that all of the love we were experiencing could be torn away. I think my wife and I both knew that it wouldn’t happen, but it was always in the back of our minds.
I made the promise to our son’s birthmother that I would send her letters every year for the first 18 years of his life, and I have followed through on that promise. This past week, I wrote the final letter to her. I included the photos and updates on his last year. I also told her how her selfless act of love changed our lives and how indebted we were to her for making that choice.
My son is now becoming a man. Watching him progress over the years has been a gift. Like any parent, I can only hope that the next 18 years will be filled with as much love and joy as the first 18.
In this week’s feature, “The Fabelmans,” we meet another young man of the same age about to embark into the world while his parents watch anxiously.
Written and directed and loosely based on the life of Steven Spielberg, “The Fabelmans” tells the story of a young man who sees the world through a different lens. And because of his unique vision, he is perfectly positioned to bring stories to life on the big screen.
This one has an extended running time of 2.5 hours, and while that seems like a major commitment, it’s well worth it once the story takes hold. Anyone who loves the theater will appreciate the care and precision of this cinematic love letter to the movies.
A picturesque “B” for “The Fabelmans,” now playing in theaters everywhere.
Got a question or comment for Dom? You can email him at [email protected].
