The recent development of finding a son, or rather of being found by him, has left me shaken and disturbed. I am seeing themes in my writing exploring the meaning of parenthood. The long-term effects of bad parenting. Multiple relationships. Children who share different mothers but a common father. Even names I’ve used now ring with coincidence and spooky meaning. There has been many questions for me to answer, some very uncomfortable. My ability to be truly honest is being tested. I have wondered about the wisdom of being honest. Revealing what might be painful is testing my belief in honesty as the best policy.

He asked many questions and I answered them as carefully and truthfully as I could. Now I wait, anxious and nervous lest my answers proved too difficult, too raw perhaps. I’m sure his expectations are being challenged. Previous pictures and imagined results shattered. Something new is being created here and like any creation it’s fraught with danger and risk. I hope I’ve handled it well enough to allow this new creation to flourish. I know he needs time to absorb and consider and let this new thing grow. I must be patient and realise he waited thirty six years for answers so if I have to wait now, then so be it.