I am supposed to pen a letter to you, to introduce myself to you and tell you a bit about myself. Let's be honest; I think the goal for many in this letter, in this entire profile, is to sell myself to you. I should tell you how wonderful my life is, show you impressive pictures of my home, vacations and trips, big Christmas gifts and elaborate parties. I should tell you and show you that my husband and I are "the best" and make you want to choose our profile over all of the others. We are perfect, and if you make a plan of adoption for your baby with us, your child will experience total bliss, a lifetime of security and happiness. That should be my underlying theme.....right? I mean, I want your baby, and I need to find a way to convince you to choose us....isn't that the deep, ugly truth?
It is not for us. I cannot do it. I cannot belittle you in that way. How do I tell you about our day, our home, our neighborhood, vacations, extended family and educational goals for our kids, without first telling you this:
The love in my heart for you is real and deep. I do not know who you are. I do not know where you are. But I carry you with me.
I have been pregnant. Four times over I have had the joy of watching that one blue line turn to two. My husband and I have had four "pregnancy celebration" dinners. I have called my mom in excitement to tell her the news. I have been sick, so very sick....I have felt my little one one move within me. I have spent countless hours in a doctor's waiting room, watched in delight at the little heart beating strong on the sonogram screen, gagged at the glucose test, outgrown my maternity clothes, stretched every conceivable ligament, lost weeks worth of sleep, read libraries of delivery book and googled hundreds of questions. I have three times gone into labor, been in indescribable pain, felt the agony of that final push and the relief of the first cry.
But I have never done those things alone. I have never done them unplanned. I have never done them afraid. I have never walked this journey with guilt or fear. I have never felt your burden.
I think about you daily. Every night this week I have woken from a deep sleep, my heart beating fast and my hands trembling.......I have asked the Lord to show me a bit of your pain, and I'm afraid He has.
I have no idea who you are. Perhaps you are young and naive. Perhaps you are in college, training to be a doctor or practicing law. Perhaps you have been thrust into this pregnancy by the most heinous of crimes. You may be rich, poor, educated or illiterate. Smart, athletic, musical or artsy. Perhaps your parents do not know, perhaps they do not care. Perhaps they are holding you every step of the way, perhaps you have no family. You may live in a mansion, a house, a dorm, a car or a hut. You could be anyone. I have no idea who you are....but this I know:
You have a love and courage that humbles me.
And I just want you to know, that you have value. You have worth. You are loved.
Are you alone, frightened, scared? Are you hungry, cold or sick? Do people avoid you? Do they know what you are going through?
The Lord is showing me a side of adoption that would be "easier" to not see. We are on the receiving end. Our earnest prayers are that He would bring this little one into our home....and we know those prayers will be answered. We will celebrate, we will cry with delight when this child is placed into our arms....when your child is placed into our arms. I have the privilege of being called "Momma".....I will rock this little one to sleep. It would be easier to just stop there.
But I cannot. I will not. He will not let me. How can I think of this baby and not think of you? How can I separate the two of you?
You will go through those delivery pains. You will hold your baby for the first time. You will smell that sweet newborn smell. Your little one will fit perfectly into your arms. For 48 surreal hours you will cradled that baby.
And then you will leave the hospital....with empty arms.
Do you know what one of my greatest fears in adoption is? That we will never get to meet you. That you will not want to meet us. I want to hug you, to tell you how much I love you. I want you to know that you are not alone. I want you to know. I want you to know HIM.
I do not know you, but you are already changing me. I find myself being less critical and more loving. I speak a bit gentler to the grocery clerk...give an extra smile to the waitress. I do not know the hurt and decisions that are going on in their lives, but I want to love them....I want to love them for you.
Many birthmothers will read our letter, many will study the pictures in our profile. Only one will choose our family. We know we do not need to convince you to pick us. Before the foundations of the World, the Lord knew this little one would be born to you, yet call me Momma. The Lord knew this little one, so obviously not "flesh of my flesh" would become my joy and delight. Our profile will look different than many. Sure, we will tell you about our family and how we spend our days. Yet our goal will not be to impress, but to love and respect you. A Momma's heart is deep water. I know the love for your child that is stored up there...a love that will die to give this child life. You take love and sacrifice to a whole new level. You love this baby so much, that you will freely hand to me the rights and privileges of "Momma", in order that this baby be raised by both a moma and daddy. I "arise and call you blessed".
My prayer is this: that one day you may life your arms in praise to the One who gave you life, that you may see His faithfulness and redeeming love in your life.
And may you one day look at your child, at my child, and say, "I have done a good and beautiful thing."