A few months ago, I visited my birthmom and her family for the first time since the death of my half brother. Ahead of the trip, I found myself mindlessly repeating how I was “making up for lost time”, a phrase I didn’t fully absorb. It wasn’t until a loved one recently said the phrase back to me that I paused to question if it’s even possible. Can you make up for lost time? Can you make up for decades of not knowing someone? What about many someones?

In thinking about it, I tried to consider if anyone has ever successfully made up for lost time with me and the answer is an easy “no”. I can’t think of a single conversation or memory or gesture or gift that somehow made decades collapse. It feels like an empty platitude we say to each other to feel better about the fact that time was lost to begin with. The only true way I can think to make up for lost time is to not lose it again with others and to learn from the moments when time was indeed lost.

As I try to get to know my many niblings (I have 9!) in particular, I feel completely at a loss about what the best approach is other than to acknowledge that we didn’t have this time together but we do have the time I can offer today. I feel myself have the instinct to apologize as if I robbed us of this time only to remember that I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose to miss seeing the first time a niece got on a horse and fell in love with riding. I didn’t choose to miss the first cheerleading meet of a different niece and see what I imagine to be the anxiety before followed by relief after. I didn’t choose to miss high school graduations nor countless birthdays. I haven’t gotten to meet all of my niblings either due to the complexity of surrogacy and I feel that gap. In the recent visit to Oklahoma, one had to ask her mom who I was again and I listened while she tried her best to explain how I was an Aunt who was never around. As someone who aims to be reliable and present, it’s incredibly painful to have that mark of absence thrust upon me.

I felt the pain of those lost years anew when I visited with a slew of eight tiny cousins all under the age of 9, all of whom I have held as babies and seen grow up over the years during visits. I write some of the older ones postcards and it helps them remember me each year when we see each other. I’ve seen the different obsessions with toys or characters come and go. I’ve seen them go from being fed to feeding themselves. I can say to them, clearly and happily, “I remember you when you were in diapers” and they gasp and giggle at the thought. There is no making up for those moments. This grief and loss is layers deeper than the surrogacy industry ever anticipated considering the obvious lack of consideration that I’d grieve not knowing my birthmom for most of my life. Please do not speak to me of making up for loss time. Please speak to me of the time lost and how we can prevent others from losing the same. At the least, I wish I had had a choice.