A Different Kind of Justice for Ethan
After nearly 3 1/2 years of grief I have realized that there never really will be justice for my son. What justice is there in a child dying of a fatal disease when he was just starting his young life?
Jack and I have recently returned from a 3-day trip during which we finally settled my case against my former agency. The results of which are confidential. Did I absolutely have to take my site down? No, I probably did have to modify it, but it generally has served its purpose over the past 2 years.
Those of us familiar with my story know that Amrex was the real villain, and they are now defunct. It was extremely cathartic for me to write about Ethan and what Jack and I lived through. It was also nice to have a happy ending in my adoption of Connor, who by the way, has mastered potty-training and is moving up to the 3's room at school, a whole 2 months early.
A piece of me will be forever changed by knowing my dear son Ethan for the few glorious days that I was able to spend with him. His untimely death has allowed me to put many things in perspective in my own life. I no longer stress so much about work, and when Connor spills his apple juice in my living room, I just calmly ask him to get a paper towel and clean it up.
I know that there are some horror stories in the international adoption world. Mine, frankly, being among the worst. I have just decided that it is time to move on and close this chapter of anger and resentment that has consumed a large portion of the past 3 1/2 years.
I will continue to visit my son at the cemetery every Saturday morning. I still bring Connor and tell him about the brother he will never know. I also let Ethan know about my week and that I still think of him. I let him know how he taught me to love in a way I had never known before.
After Ethan passed away and I was consumed with grief, I attended a support group for parents who had lost children. I went to 2 sessions. While it was helpful to talk about my child, it was sad for me to see so many parents who years later were still deep in grief over their loss. Grief that had so overtaken them to the point where they were not able to properly care for their other children.
I made a decision not to allow myself to do that to Connor. He deserves all of me and for me to have a positive attitude and an abundance of energy so that he can continue his energetic zest for life. I want to focus on my time with Ethan as being positive and a gift. That is what I will continue to do.
I also want to thank all of the people who have emailed me their support over the years. While I was not able to personally answer all of the emails. I greatly appreciated each and every one.
I also wanted to share, on the next page, some photos that are very special to me. I have included a photo of the first moment that I met Ethan and the first moment that I met Connor. Anyone who does not believe that an adoptive parent can have the same bond as a biological one, need only look at the complete joy on my face to realize that the bond is just a strong. It just started differently.
The next page has 2 photos that my mother took of Connor playing on Ethan's grave, during the Spring and again in the Winter. To me it is a poignant representation of the juxtaposition between young life and death.
The last page is the In Memory page from my original website, where I honor my first child.
I guess when all is said and done I ultimately have experienced a certain justice in this experience. It is just not the one that I expected when I began.
First Meetings My 2 Boys In Memory