Courage.

I didn't want to be at this seminar this weekend.

We were late, so I immediately felt every set of eyes on us as we walked in the room.  It took me all of two seconds to notice that we were the youngest ones there (by quite a lot, compared to some couples), and to make this education session into a competition between us and other prospective adoptive families.  As the adoption specialist began speaking, I made up my mind to already have the answers and to not need anyone's help.  I also determined that our adoption would be as closed as possible.  We would send letters and pictures to the birth mom just often enough to meet the agency's semi-open standards, and then we would politely walk out of her life.

I'm embarrassed to admit some of this, but these are real thoughts that I've had.  Of course, I never would have said any of it out loud.   I worried that the birth mom would want her child back.  (Do all adoptive parents worry about that?)  I secretly judged birth moms by thinking that they were just dumb girls who couldn't live with the consequences of their bad decisions.  (Yikes, I'm so sorry!)  I wanted to move away so that our baby's birth mom would never be able to have any contact with her son or daughter.  (I'm going to be one great mom, right?  *Sarcasm.*)

I'm still scared about navigating the relationship between us, our child, and his or her birth mom.  I feel so inadequate to be a parent, much less to inform our child about the unique family dynamics that occur because of adoption.  Somehow, though, I know that it will all fall into place.  One day and one question at a time.

A panel of birth moms spoke to us last night, and for the first time, I saw them as incredibly brave and selfless.  I can't imagine the strength that it takes to carry a baby for nine months, go through an intense labor and delivery, and then look your baby in the eye and say goodbye.  Although so much bravery is required for us as we step into the unknown and take all kinds of risks with adoption, I think that birth moms have more courage than I'll ever know.

After this weekend, I truly feel that the least we can do for a birth mom in exchange for the most generous sacrifice one can give is to allow her the opportunity to know her child.  That may look like pictures and letters for awhile, or our relationship could evolve so that we are all comfortable with in-person visits.  I'm not sure about any of that.  What I do know is that I no longer feel right about slamming the door in the face of a woman who chose to give a child a chance at life.

In typical Mary Rachel style, I at first freaked out about the unknown and about "sharing" our baby with his or her birth mom. "A child can never have too much love," my mom said.  Today, I'm thankful for that change of perspective.