Chapter 19

Although there were special times while I was recovering in the hospital, there was an underlying sense of dread for the time I would leave. I felt this was for a couple of reasons. The first and most obvious reason is the fact that the beautiful 8 lb 14 oz baby girl I had given birth to would not be coming home with me, then or ever. 

Secondly, I would be walking back into that shelter having to explain to people why I didn’t have my baby with me. I had shared with a select handful of women in the shelter as well as staff but there were others I intentionally refrained from sharing intimate details of my life with. There was still a lot of guilt attached to my decision. It is one thing to have an unforeseen tragedy occur in which a mother doesn’t get to bring her baby home. It’s another thing completely to willingly choose to not bring your newborn home. What kind of mother does that?

It has to be a very difficult thing to do, to have spent nine months with someone, getting to know them, loving them, bonding with them, only to have to let them go. Many times people have remarked to me, coldly, how they could not fathom how a woman could “just give away” her child. Often one assumes that there must be some sort of defect in the birth-mother’s processing that would cause her to be able to do this – that she, somehow, is not made like other women. 

In my children’s birthmothers, I have witnessed courage like no other. Pam is not like other women, that much is true. I have seen strength that only some women could even fathom, a courage that drives one to fight against the natural instinct to love and care for a new life, all for the sake of trying to preserve it, and wanting the best for it. It takes a confident woman to think past her own emotions in that situation and make a purposeful and rational decision. For Pam, I know her faith is what held her fast, and it was only her faith that would bring her through.

Paul and I had thought long and hard on the hospital gift we chose. It was a cross necklace laced with diamonds. I had been holding onto it, keeping it close to me during these last few weeks, and in these last few days, had tucked it safely inside of my hospital bag. Just the day before we were to be released from the hospital, the two of us in the room, I knew the time had come.

“Paul and I got you something.” I sat down on the edge of her bed and opened the box. “I know this has got to be very difficult, and it is very scary to even think past this moment.” I went on to express how she had impressed me with her faith, in God and in us. I tried to assure her that her confidence had been securely placed, and of our intent to follow through with the open adoption plan. I encouraged her to rest in the assurance of this, and our gift might serve to remind her of this confidence, one that can not be easily shaken. 

She thanked me, crying, both of our cheeks now lathered, I offered to secure it around her neck. To this day I can still see clearly the moment, brown curls gathered carefully by hand at the back of her head. We embraced, and I felt the weight of this responsibility hanging on my shoulders. As far as it depended on me, I would not let her down. It was a promise, a bond that could not be easily broken.