"I never remember a time when I didn't know that I was adopted," he said next. "That's good", I told him, "that's how it is supposed to be." Sitting next to my son on the log, with the cool breeze blowing was heavenly for me. I could not imagine anything better.

I sat quietly part of the time, just relishing making this memory with my son. Words were unnecessary, just being together was enough. Memories are not plentiful for us, and it is important to me that we create some good ones together. Mothers and sons should have some recollections of good times.

Since Chris grew up by the water, my time spent with him visiting is mostly near the water. My last visit, we walked along a beach and found hundreds of sand dollars on the beach after the tide went out. He showed me how to tell which were still alive, and which were not. Then, he showed me how to touch certain spots on the sand where clams were hiding. If you touched them just right, water spurts would explode into the air. Finally, he flattened out on the sand, rolled up his sleeve, and showed me how to pull up a certain type of clam.

My son teaches me about the seashore. He knows it well. I do not. Although he grew up by the water; I did not. Learning about the seashore from him feels good and right. By learning about the wonders of the beach, I learn about his childhood and what his life there was like. I like that very much because I want to know my son - finally. Slowly, I am and it feels really good and healing and right that I am.

Just as adoptees need to know their life stories, I realized during our recent visit that birth mothers need to know their children's stories as well. We need to know how their adoptive status affected them growing up, what it was like for them. I love my son and learning about his life because he is my son. For decades, there always seemed to be something "missing" in my life. I know now that "something" was my son. Having him back in my life feels so right. I am thankful to have the chance to finally know him.