it was the best of times it was the worse of times

It was the best of times it was the worse of times. Truer word have never been spoken.
That day my daughter called me should have been the happiest day in my life. and really it was. I was thrilled. My heart was whole again right ? yes it was, for about 24 hrs. I had spoken to my daughter and her twin brother. neither had any hard feelings, or so they said. I slept that night with a peace i had not had in a very long time. the only thing on my mind was how and when to tell my raised children about their brother and sister. yes it would be tough but not insurmountable right ? had I only known that night that this was going to be the simplest task compared to the bomb I would awaken to the next morning.

as i grabbed my morning coffee and my laptop i was so excited to check my email for the promised pictures of my daughters children and any other items that may have been sent overnight. because of course this was after all the best of times just as they were played out on t.v. right ? oh how wrong I was. mixed in among the pictures of my children and grandchildren was a letter that I received from my son that would forever shatter the myth that adoption was the most selfless loving thing a mom could do. and that my children's lives were full of loving moments , happy times, and unconditional love. Because after all I had been told over and over that they deserved better than i could offer. and if i truly loved them I would do the right thing.
                                                                                                                                                                         Enter the worse of times...

Did my children get the big house, private schools, trips to Disney world all those things that I had been told I could never possibly give them ? Absolutely not.. what they did get was a totally dysfunctional family wrought with substance abuse, allegations of child neglect and periods of homelessness. This was the better life ? I think not, and now less than 24 hours into reunion I am thrown into the abyss of guilt, rage and despair. My God what had I done ?  I must have read that letter 20 times that day and it is still in my mail box along with every other communication I have received since then. yes there were good things in that letter also, and I am very proud of the accomplishments of my children in spite of what happened. but every day since then has been a struggle for self forgiveness. The rage boils to the surface and i see and hear the damage done to my children and myself. I know that with time,and support from an amazing group of friends that I am not alone in this  journey and that eventually I will return to the best of times.