A birth mother shares her story
By Dee
I am a birth mother who sits in the pew at Mass. I am the woman who placed my child for adoption more than 40 years ago. My name is “Dee.”
November is National Adoption Month and how do I celebrate it? I don’t shout my circumstance as a birth mother from the rooftops nor tell just anyone. Only a select few know, but it was the biggest decision of my life.
I was in a distant big city more than four decades ago, separated from family, but motivated by a desire to make it big as an actress. Yes, I had stars in my eyes and some naiveté, but the dream was there. I took classes, paid the bills by working a couple of part-time jobs, and auditioned for work when opportunities arose.
Eventually, a musician I had met on tour in my hometown, and with whom I had continued to keep in touch, moved to the same city. He was separated from his wife and kids, who lived in another state, and we moved in together. He also worked various part-time jobs while securing occasional musical gigs as he also pursued his dream.
We clung to one another in our loneliness amid the big city’s energy, nightlife, and hustle and bustle. At some point, we conceived a baby who would change my view of life, myself, and those who would nurture this little one.
Did I consider abortion? It occurred to me, but the father and I were Catholic. We knew human life was sacred and that it would be the wrong decision. To conceive a child who was innocent and created in God’s image and likeness, regardless of circumstances, made me a mother from that moment forward.
Nevertheless, this new mother kept quiet about it until I started to show. I answered questions about when I was due, but offered no details about delivery plans, desire for a boy or a girl, or any names under consideration. Based on my lack of control in the situation, it seemed wise not to get overly attached.
I went through a closed adoption through Catholic Social Services in this big city, which was typical at the time for most adoptions, unlike today’s practice in which most adoptions are open.
My case worker was a kind, caring, compassionate, middle-aged woman who had been at her job for years. We met periodically and she directed me to a hospital for prenatal care while asking about the type of family into which we wanted our baby to be placed. Our desires in that regard included a Catholic married couple who could give our child music lessons, take him/her to the theatre, play ball with him/her, and be a strong part of his/her life. It was the sort of life we knew we could not provide at the time.
The combined prevalence of abortion and single motherhood in the United States makes adoptions in our country so rare that it tends to make possibility of adoption the furthest thing from the mind of a mother in the midst of an untimely pregnancy. Everyone has heard a horror story, whether true or false, of an adoption gone awry. Even the common phrase of “giving up” instead of “placing” one’s child for adoption can be discouraging. The same is true about comments from well-intentioned pro-life women who say things such as “I could never put my baby up for adoption.” Such words can wound and influence others who are in or have experienced an unplanned pregnancy.
Birth mothers cover a spectrum of ages, economic backgrounds, ethnicities, educational attainment, and life circumstances. Although some may be teenagers, addicts, runaways, or convicts, some are not.
Despite it all, I believe a birth mother holds a special place in the Blessed Virgin Mary’s heart. When I look back on my circumstances, I believe the Blessed Mother had her arms wrapped around me during those times I in which I was emotionally distraught, lonely, ashamed, and uncertain about my future. I didn’t drown my sorrows in booze or drugs because I knew it would hurt the precious little one I was carrying. Was it the Blessed Mother guiding me? I think so.
In the middle of the night later that year, I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy, full-term little boy. I was sad and anxious for the next few days in the hospital, but I survived. I saw him a couple of times during that stay and had the chance to hold and talk to him, during which I told him how much I loved him.
The state in which I was living did not finalize adoptions until 30 days after a child’s birth. This meant the birth parents had 30 days to confirm or back out of their decision. The final meeting at the Catholic Charities office to sign the papers to relinquish our rights as parents was among the toughest moments of my life. I cried most of the time while the father and I answered questions from an attorney.
After it was over, we walked home on the sidewalk in a cold wind that seemed to mirror our empty, chilled feelings. Very few, if any, words were spoken. How could we speak after all of this? Eventually we drifted apart, and over the course of time, I made my own life and family with someone else.
This birth mother did more than survive. I gradually grew into a stronger, more tenacious, and generous person. I know that placing my child for adoption was an act that few others in our society would ever consider. My caseworker told me a birth mother has a greater love for her child than for herself. Through the action of placing her little one in someone else’s care, she fulfills an act of love and sacrifice of her will for the fulfillment of a higher good for her little one. What a gift a birth mother embodies!
Dee is a pseudonym for the author of this piece, who prefers to remain anonymous.
Editor’s note: This month’s gathering of After the Gift, Birth Mother’s Support Gathering was Tuesday, Nov. 4. The gatherings are held at 6:30 p.m. on the first Tuesday of each month at the Spiritual Life Center in Bel Aire. The next one will be Tuesday, Dec. 2.