I look at the picture of little Sebastian Reginald, and I wonder if I have done a terrible injustice in his life by giving him up for adoption.  Tears prick my eyes and then fall down my cheeks as a feeling of emptiness fills every part of my body.  I feel as if there's a big hole in my heart that can never be repaired.

Truth is, I couldn't afford to have a baby back then.  I was only 16 when I became pregnant with him.  I was too young to be a mother; I wasn't ready for the responsibility, so I made the painful decision to give Sebastian up for adoption.

I wonder how tall he is now and if he has a family to call his own.  I wonder how his life is faring.  I wonder what he looks like.  I wonder if he looks like me or his father (who has since long walked out of my life).  I wonder if he even thinks of me or how he would react if I wanted to be a part of his life again.

I wonder if he would even accept me or drive me away, out of his life forever and ever.

I miss him.  I miss my boy. 

Every year around this time, I get melancholy.  It was twelve years ago this month when I gave Sebastian up for adoption.  I had no other choice: I was foolish and I made the wrong decision by becoming pregant when I was only sixteen (I'm now 32).  I wasn't even in tenth grade when I'd fooled around with a guy; got knocked up and had a kid.  And then I panicked, so I made the heartbreaking decision to give Sebastian up for adoption, which is exactly what I did.

There isn't a day where I don't think about Sebastian.  I wonder what he looks like and if he has a good life.  If not, I can only hope and pray it gets better; no kid deserves to have it bad in life.  They deserve the best of all that life has to offer; Sebastian is no exception.

Christmas and any holiday are the worst times.  How I wish I knew where he lived so I could give him a call and let him know that I am thinking of him and that I still love him!  How I want to hear his voice!  How I want to hold him in my arms or give him a hug or kiss!

I know my other children ask about "The Mystery Boy" and wonder why he isn't with us.  How do I explain to twin ten year olds about giving my birth son up because I couldn't afford to be his mother?  How would they take the news?  Would they accept it or would they be angry at me for not telling them about it sooner?

These and a thousand more questions ricochet through my brain as these thoughts race around my head. 

I know that soon I must tell them about "their other brother", the brother they never got to meet or know.  I have nothing to lose; maybe it can help relieve some of the guilt that I carry in my heart and help me to heal.  It couldn't hurt; it might hurt me, but it's better letting it out than letting it fester like a cancer inside my body!

Tonight, after supper, Al and myself will sit the twins down and tell them about Sebastian.  I know lots of tears will be shed and that there will be millions of questions, but I can't live with the guilt or the pain much longer!  I have to get rid of it before it ends up killing me!

~To be continued.~