Chapter 5 - June Whitlock
Hattie’s birth mother was named June Whitlock.
She was thirty-one now.
Twenty-four when Hattie was born.
At the time, she lived in Albany and worked as a veterinary technician.
The pregnancy was unexpected.
The biological father had no relationship with June by the second trimester.
He received required legal notice and ultimately consented to the adoption through his own counsel.
No paternity mystery.
No DNA reveal.
No secret man arriving seven years later.
June chose adoption because she did not believe she could provide the stable life she wanted for a child at that point.
That was her decision.
Not proof she loved Hattie less.
The adoption was semi-open.
Mara and I knew June’s first and last name.
June knew ours.
Contact went through the agency.
One letter and photographs each year.
Potential direct contact later if everyone agreed and professionals believed it would benefit Hattie.
June wrote beautifully.
At age one:
Thank you for the photograph in the yellow sweater. I cried and then laughed because she looks offended by the camera.
At two:
Tell her someday that I loved animals first and I hope she does too.
At three:
I hope she knows she was not given away because she was unwanted.
Mara kept every letter.
Then Mara died.
I managed the next year badly.
I sent June one short update.
No photographs until months late.
Then missed the next annual exchange entirely.
The agency contacted me.
I apologized.
Promised to send something.
Delayed.
June eventually wrote:
I understand grief changed your household. I do not need more than the agreement provides. I only want to know Hattie is safe and loved.
I read that letter.
Put it in my desk.
Did not answer for four months.
Why?
Because I was afraid.
If June became more present while Hattie was grieving Mara, would Hattie become confused?
Would she think June could replace Mara?
Would June someday ask for more?
Legally, the adoption was final.
Emotionally, I behaved as though knowledge itself could destabilize us.
Then Evelina entered my life.
And I made another mistake.
I told Evelina everything.
Not immediately.
When we became serious.
I told her Hattie was adopted.
Told her about June.
Showed her two of the letters.
I said:
“Hattie doesn’t know yet.”
Evelina asked:
“Why?”
I explained grief.
She answered:
“I understand.”
Then promised:
“I would never take that choice away from you.”
May you like
She broke that promise in a ballroom.
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