To Our Birth Mothers,
As I begin, I struggle to find the words to adequately express our love for you. I don’t believe there will even be enough words that could share with you how we feel, but hopefully you will be able to perceive the feelings of our heart as I write.
You have given us something so unique and precious. For many who have not experienced adoption from the adoptive family’s point of view, they look at adoption as receiving a child—a child who was once in the womb of another. Warm. Protected. And then transferred into the arms of another mother who would continue to give warmth and protection throughout the years. There is so much trust—so much faith and hope—that we invest in one another. It is a sacred relationship.
What those who have not experienced it firsthand don’t know . . . is that what you, as a birth mother, have given us is far more than just a child. You have given us a family. And so with that comes laughter and love. Traditions and memories. Learning and growth. Humility and hope. A better life and a greater purpose.
As Christians, I know you have faith in Jesus Christ as the son of God. This time of year, at Christmas, we focus on His birth. And yet, when I think of you both, I think of Mary. She was humble, gentle, kind. She had an understanding that others didn’t always know. Though Jesus was to be the Savior of the world, He was her baby boy. She loved him, cradled him, taught him, and kissed his cheeks. She wiped his tears when he skinned his knee and laughed as they told stories. He was her boy before He began to fulfill His role as Savior. Though his life was full of learning and growth and preparation for something greater, it all started in a small, humble manger. I can only imagine the sacred, holy surroundings. And as much as He would be eternally her child, she would have to let Him go. Her love would be a great influence in His life, as He thought of her and had the desire to make sure she was taken care of. The love He must have known from her . . .
And yet as painful as it was, she allowed for a different plan than one she could have ever dreamed up on her own. From the little we know, she put her faith and hope in the knowledge that there was something greater at work.
We think of you often. As individuals, you are both very different: different talents and different skills, different struggles and different strengths. But what you both possess is the tender love that Mary had for her Son. I want, and need, for you to understand something. As a family, we talk about you. We pray for you. We wonder what you are up to. We get excited to see you. Your love is felt and is a huge part of our children’s lives.
Even though you chose and allowed for a different plan than one you would have ever imagined ten years ago, you are eternally connected to your child. I remember being in the labor and delivery room when Micah was born. I felt as if I stood on sacred ground. It was a unique and holy experience. I can only imagine that angels surrounded you as you labored to bring forth your son into this world, with the plan to place him in another family’s arms.
And though I was not there when Callie was born, it is my belief that you were lifted up in order to do all you could to make sure for her safe arrival, that you were protected, comforted, and sustained by angels who were in that room with you. Yes, this is all speculation . . . but I feel it in my heart.
We will forever pray that our love for you and for your children will be a boon to your heart when you feel sad, tired, or overwhelmed. We pray that angels will continue to lift you up and support you on your path, but also know that we continue to be here as well. We are grateful—beyond grateful—for the family we have become, and YOU are a part of that family. With all sincerity, we will love you forever. As we have told you before, and we will tell you again . . . surely there is a dedicated spot in heaven for such women as you.
With all our love,