I remember years ago wondering if my biological mother ever thought about me on my birthday. That was years before I met my family. I was adopted.
But now I think every 7 February about my son, who we gave up for adoption (it was best; if he had been subject to any of the rubbish that went down until my ex walked out, I don't know what I would do to forgive myself). It's an open adoption, so I can send things. In fact I hope my parcel arrives today or at least this week.
We called him Zak Damon (God has remembered divine beauty). They call him Daniel. He is ten years old today. :)