Dec. 6, 1997, Petaluma, California

By Lea Roxanne Hutton

This is the first time my daughter and I had been in contact since her birth. She was 26 years old when I wrote this. I had been looking for her for 5 years. Out of the blue I received a call from the attorney who handled the adoption telling me my birth daughter would like me to write her. The call came on her birthday. I didn’t have a clue what to say to her but when I sat down at the computer, this is what came out. I have changed names for identity protection. And yes, I did mail this to her. And she responded. That was a magical moment.

Dear Maya,

My dream has come true. At least partially. I know you’re alive. I’m assuming you’re well and I understand you have an exceptionally loving family. This info warms my heart to its depth. These are the things I have prayed for every day for 26 years, Maya.

So much to say, and how to say it? What tone do I take? You are so much a part of me and yet I don’t know you. It’s a dichotomy. I’ve been mulling over various ways to introduce myself since last Wednesday, December 3rd, your birthday. You’d think after 26 years I’d have a clue as to how to go about this. Forgive me; I’m somewhat dense on occasion.

Maybe I’ll start at the beginning, then move on to some basic information on some practical stuff and wait with pounding heart to hear from you. I don’t want to overwhelm you or intrude further than you feel open to disclosing and experiencing.

I wanted you very much when I found I was pregnant with you. Although barely 19, single (with a man but an uncommitted one, a boy really), and type 1 diabetic (came down with diabetes at the age of eight), I was in love with you instantly and couldn’t bear the thought of abortion or adoption. I WANTED YOU. Somehow I felt such a profound connection with you. I told no one I was pregnant but Bill (your birth father, Bill Flynn) until the second trimester. I did not want to take any chances of anyone pushing me to do something I did not want to do.

My parents were living in Tokyo at the time with my little sister, Judy (Judy died two days before her 25th birthday – car accident). My older sister Lynn was living in Phoenix and my oldest sister Gail was living in Marin County, the same county I was living in. When I finally did break the news, only Judy, my dear little sister, was supportive. To be fair, I was a bit of a wild Indian at the time. I preferred to think of myself as free-spirited. Anyway, the family circled forces around me and the pressure was on to convince me to give you up. After months of denial I finally started thinking about what I believed to be in your best interest.

I had no money (was on welfare), nothing but a high school education, no family support (the family was threatening withdrawal of affection and contact, lousy tactics), a boyfriend that I’m sorry to say was a drug addict (Bill was a beautiful person, but a lost soul, and the drugs mutated his personality and character into an unrecognizable human. I was on my way out the door).

Maya, I’m sorry. I probably could have handled the load but the diabetes thing clinched the decision for adoption. After you were born and still in the hospital, I changed my mind about giving you up and decided to keep you. I called my attorney to tell him my decision and he suggested before I make any suggestion, I pray. I did this. Long and hard and deep. It came into my mind to call your pediatrician.

I did this. He asked me what would happen if Bill was not around and I happened to have an insulin reaction. Who would take care of your immediate needs? An insulin reaction can entail the loss of consciousness and, unless sugar or glucose is administered, the brain receives no sugar and the body dies. I had no answer for him. I hung up the phone and my heart wailed with the pain of knowing I was not equipped to raise you surrounded by the love and protection you deserved. I cried, I screamed, I sobbed, I moaned, I pleaded with God to heal me so I could take care of you. No miracle occurred. At least not to my understanding at the time. I knew from the depths of my being I must give you up. It was the right thing. God had answered me and showed me the way. It broke my heart, and that’s a mild statement, but I had to do it. I went to my attorney’s office and signed the papers the next day.

Maya, it was absolutely the hardest thing I have ever done. After leaving the attorney’s office, I went back to the motel room I was living in, got hold of some street barbiturates, and kept myself passed out for three days. I’m ashamed to say I could not bear the pain of losing you. I’ve never known anything like it. Even when my sister died, and she was the light of my life, I did not feel the completely unbearable despair I felt in losing you. Maya, you will never know how much I love you. Not that one measures love by the depth of one’s pain (Keb Mo’s words) but the strength it took for me to give you up, entrusting you to God’s care, changed me in a way I cannot explain. To me you are an angel from God. I feel for you as profound a love as my heart can bear.

I just reread the above and realized I pictured my family as extremely manipulative. Granted, they did employ some below the belt tactics but they truly believed I would not be able to offer you the care you should have and they were doing whatever it took to get the message through to me. They are all wonderful, kind, compassionate people and we have all come a long way to consciousness over the past 26 years.

In addition, in case you get the wrong impression, let me assure you I am not now nor have I ever been a drug addict. I do not smoke or drink or do drugs unless prescribed by a doctor. I do tend to swear when I get angry but I’m working on that too.

I hope I have not completely blown you out of the water. I seem to have gotten much more carried away with my memories than I originally intended. Let me lighten things up a bit now and give you some practical information.

I am 45 years old, born April 19, 1952. My name is Lea Roxanne Hutton. I live in Petaluma, CA, about 40 miles north of San Francisco. I am single (divorced), no children other than you. I have three sisters, as I told you, Judy died 17 years ago. My mother and father are still living (both 78 years old). I have five nieces, one nephew (my sister has six children). Actually, they are not children anymore. Hutton, the oldest, is 25 and given our family name as his first name. He is a very special man and a great joy in my life. Rachael will be 23 in January. She means the world to me. In fact she has been my encouragement and partner in my search for you. She has a strong character and an intelligence I draw upon frequently. Samantha is 21 and lives in Boston. She is the family gypsy. Very independent. Veronica and Amanda are fraternal twins, 19, and both in school. Amanda is going to Parson’s School of Design in New York City and Veronica is in her last semester at a local junior college. She plans on transferring to Washington State with a major in Environmental Studies. Judith Avion is 13 going on 25, a real stunner and knows it. I love this child with a passion but she is definitely a handful. Reminds me far too much of myself at that age. We are a very close family and I consider myself extremely fortunate to be so completely surrounded by familial support.

On the subject of family, our attorney told me your father passed on several years ago. My heart goes out to you, Maya…. My nieces and nephew lost their father two years ago at just about this time of year. I’m a believer in eternal life but the loss of the physical presence is a rough road to travel. I’m so sorry Maya.

I want to wrap my arms around your mother and hug her tightly body and soul in gratitude for loving you, caring for you, nurturing you and encouraging you. As I stated at the start she has played a major role in answering my prayers and I want to thank her. Deeply.

Dear Maya, I have just scratched the surface on things I want to share with you. The things I want to know about you is an even longer list. However, how far we go with this reconciliation is entirely up to you. I absolutely do not want to cross over lines you do not want me to. I clearly understand that when I signed those adoption papers I surrendered all claims but those to love and pray for you. I will continue to honor that commitment.

I hope to hear from you soon dear heart but when it comes to you I seem to do things out of character. This includes patience. Take all the time you need. I’m here.

Love,
Lea

Lea Roxanne Hutton was a single woman living in Sebastopol, California, with her two dogs and four cats when we received her story. She never had another child after Maya. She was delighted that we chose to publish her letter, and chose to use a pseudonym. Lea passed away Oct. 27, 2006, the day this story was published.

Posted by Elizabeth Armstrong Moore on Friday, October 27th, 2006 | Email This Post

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