You are angels.
Without you, we are not here. Our hearts do not beat.
Without your sacrifice, our parents cannot be parents. Dreams go unfulfilled. Homes are not made.
Without your courage, we are left to unthinkable outcomes. Without having any say in the matter.
Without your love, we are unable to share our love with the world.
Without caring for your baby, we cannot care for our children.
We know it wasn’t easy.
We think about you too, you know. Some of us more than others, even if we have not or will never meet. Who is that angel that brought me to the world? Who didn’t give up on me in the womb? Can I draw some measure of courage from her?
We know that humans are humans. Babies get made. It happens, even in suboptimal situations. It is a risk that each of us living beings face. And by the way – news flash – we’re not perfect ourselves.
You gave us the biggest gift of all, life. This is something we should celebrate. You and us. And our adoptive families. Continually. And if we cannot dance together, we dance in our hearts for you.
To be sure, there are adoptees who feel rejected or harbor complex levels of anxiety about their adoption. But that isn’t necessarily your fault. You produced life and gave us a chance, it is up to us and our families to make the most of it. Resources are there if we need help. For every adoptee who struggles there are many more who don’t.
Please know that you are a special breed of person, even if the circumstances around our conception were not something to be proud of. It is not everyday you come across a mother who has sacrificed so much to provide joy to another. You make women, whom you may have never met, mothers. Goodness.
When you reach into the air to touch us, what do you feel? We are busy breathing, growing, loving, failing. We are trying to make a difference in our own way. So please don’t blame us if we aren’t there to extend our hand towards you. We are living the gift you gave us.
I have met my birthmother. I feel for her. She has carried grief and longing for decades. I wish I could make it go away. I hug her and we laugh together. Certainly there are tears too. I do not know if all our hugging and laughing and crying and storytelling and catching up will repair the hole that grew in her heart the day I was born and relinquished. But she had courage and wanted what was best for me, which she was unable to provide at the time. One day, I will dance with her. She is an angel.