Twenty-seven years ago, I made a horrible mistake. I got pregnant by a guy who claimed to be a wealthy ex-frat boy but turned out instead to be just a caddy at the local country club. He had no family status, no money, and no prospects.
It’s inconvenient enough to be pregnant under any circumstances, and when I considered the hugely negative impact an unwanted child would have on my lifestyle, I realized I couldn’t go through with it.
Unfortunately, by the time I learned the terrible truth about the child’s father, I was already in an advanced stage of pregnancy. I put a 2-pronged plan into action to rectify the situation. First, I fired the private investigator who took so long to find out the truth about my lover. Next, I did the only prudent thing I could to spare myself the financial anguish of single motherhood: I wrapped the newborn in a receiving blanket and left it in a basket on the doorstep of a Tudor-style mansion in the wealthy district and put the whole sordid incident out of my mind.
Recent events, however, have brought me a tremendous amount of guilt and pain over what I did. I’ve cried a river of tears since last Tuesday, when it suddenly hit me what a horrible mistake I’d made in not staying in touch with my dear, darling daughter.
You see, I read in the newspaper’s business section that despite my daughter’s genetic heritage, she turned out to be very smart, graduating from an Ivy League college with an MBA. In fact, she just inherited control of her late adoptive father’s vast hosiery empire. My baby is now worth several hundred million dollars.
I’m inconsolable. I can’t express to you how much I regret giving up my baby. It pains me that my daughter, my flesh and blood, has no idea I exist. I’m not even sure she knows she was adopted.
How can I ingratiate myself back into her life and pocketbook? After all, don’t I deserve to embark on a financially fulfilling relationship with my long-lost daughter? I mean, consider all the suffering I’ve gone through in the past few days, not to mention 20 hours of labor to bring little Jessica into the world and the thousands of dollars of plastic surgery required to rid me of all those stretch marks.
I figure if anyone knows the answer to these difficult questions, it’s you, Savannah. Thanks in advance!
Pining birth mother,
I always knew there was at least one good reason to have children, and I do believe you’ve pinpointed it for me.
I can well understand how you must be feeling. Once, I gave away a puppy that eventually became a champion stud worth thousands of dollars. How I rued the day I ever gave him up!
The first thing you must remember is that you hold the high moral ground in this situation. After all, you were only thinking of Jessica’s happiness when you relinquished her. How happy could she possibly have been, tagging along with you on those all-expense-paid singles weekends in Cancun, pretending to be your nine-year-old sister? Or posing as the maid’s illegitimate child when well-to-do gentleman callers arrived to take you to the opera? No, you did the right thing by leaving Jessica on that family’s doorstep. So, stop punishing yourself with guilt.
I recommend you take the bull by the horns and drive to her home unannounced, preferably in the middle of the night or some other time when she’s sure to be at home, confused and/or emotionally vulnerable. Weepily demand an audience with your long-lost daughter. Present her with a piece of heirloom jewelry, even if it’s an heirloom from some other family. You want to come across as a giving person. As the old saying goes, “If you establish a reputation as an early riser, you can sleep as late as you want.” By giving Jessica something of value right away, you open the door to a lifetime of receiving.
Good luck, dear!
© 2000-2002 Elizabeth Hanes