I have three children, two by choice and one by choice of the heart.  Whenever anyone asks which one of my kids is adopted, I answer, “I’ve forgotten”, because it makes absolutely no difference.  A child is a child and whether it becomes yours by nature or nurture doesn’t matter at all.  Love expands and the more you need the more you have.  It’s that simple.

Children come into this world naked and crying…all they need is to be wanted and fed and cherished.  Whether they come through you or someone else is unimportant.  What is important are the arms that hold them, care for them, and love them.  

There’s a lot of talk now about giving adoptees access to their adoption records.  As an adoptive parent I staunchly agree.  Each one of us has the right to know, if we want to, from whence we originally come.  To some it may be an answer to a mystery that has consciously or subconsciously plagued them for years;  to others it may just be the freedom to know if they want to know, and are not held in an undeserved prison of ignorance.  

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When and how will probably be the biggest questions.  Too early could be confusing; too late might cause years of unanswered questions and, sadly, feelings of desertion.  The human psyche is a fragile part of one’s existence and must be carefully tended.  Trauma has many faces: anxiety, betrayal, self-effacement, anger and must be dealt with gently and with understanding.  The best we can do as adoptive parents is stand with our children as they make a decision, and back them up with all the love in our hearts.  
I’ll try to address the other side of the dilemma, the natural parent or parents who made the decision to surrender their progeny.  In most cases it was the most difficult choice they had to make and, remember, years ago it was harder to keep a child born “out of wedlock” than it is now.  We are more accepting in today’s society of single parents and attach, hopefully, no stigma to the child or the parent.  But there are still babies given up for adoption and they have the right to understand why.  

What rights, then, do the biological moms and dads have?  Perhaps they want anonymity.  We need the wisdom of King Solomon to address these questions because they are wrought with pain and trauma on both sides.   Where do you, my readers, stand?

 How can we find a solution to healing all those aching hearts?  

While we were waiting for our adoptive child I wrote the following poem.  Perhaps it can be of solace to some who read it.

The Promise
Somewhere, a woman not unlike myself,
Carries within her womb
My unborn son.
Perhaps she wonders who I am,
And will I love her child
As if he were my own.
Listen, oh my sister, and know this well,
Your babe lies here within my heart
While under yours.
I, too, can feel his gentle stirrings,
Growing stronger, more insistent
With each passing day.
I love him now, as you do,
And share in his creation…
You’ll carry him and give him birth,
I’ll nurture him and give him life.

Contact Adrienne at ergosum1@comcast.net