Birth Mother

daytimerA lot can happen in a day’s time.  Twenty-four hours normally fly by, often unnoticed in it’s significance.  And yet, twenty-four hours can make all the difference.  When a decision is made in that short span of time, it has the possibility of changing the world.

April 28, 2010 was one of those twenty-four hours, which changed the world.  At least it changed my world and the world of each member of my family.

April 28, 2010 also changed the world of another, and my heart hurts for her.  You see, the contrast in the type of change in my world and her world is as vast as the ocean, which separates us.

April 28, 2010 was the day my precious daughter was born.  It was a normal day in my life, or so I thought.  And yet, a grand event took place on the other side of the world, which I would only discover months later.  For years, I had prayed about adoption.  In fact, the seed of adoption was planted in my heart before I had even married.  I prayed about it on many days, as I joyfully lived among the five adorable children that the Lord had graciously allowed me to give birth to.  I even dreamed about it—a vivid dream of an addition to our house, a room beautifully appointed with luxurious Chinese wallpaper, and a beautiful white baby bed in the center of the room.

April 28, 2010 was the day my daughter was born, and it began a lifetime of joy for me.  And I am sure it was the day, which began a lifetime of regret for another woman, if she is still living.

I will never know the details of that day.  Was she poor, sick, alone?  Did she see the tumor on the back of her tiny, beautiful neck and realize she could not take care of her like she deserved?  Was she overcome with fear?  Did she die giving birth to this child so full of life?  I will never know.

The woman carried the baby within her for nine long months and endured the pain of childbirth, in a country where abortion is easy and accessible.  And so, she must have wanted this child, loved this child.  So, no, the baby was not abandoned.  She was released, whether for life or because of death.  Released, so she would have better care, a better life.  And it was this sacrifice, which I believe was prompted by love, which gave me my daughter.

I am so grateful for this sacrifice.  I will honor this birth mother in the years to come, as we slowly give information, bit by bit, to my daughter.  I will help her to see that she was indeed loved, even in those brief twenty-four hours.

And I will pray for this woman often and fervently.  I will pray that if she is still living, she will know the acceptance and grace and forgiveness and redemption that only Jesus can offer.  I will pray that one day, in heaven, she and I will embrace and rejoice together in the great gift that God gave both of us–and the world–in our daughter.

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