I Think of Her

I have waited seven Mother's Days for this Mother's Day. For so many years, Mother's Day was a cruel reminder that I could not have children. It was a reminder that I was inferior to all mothers, because I could not be one. It was a reminder that something was wrong with me and that I was a failure. It reminded me that yet another year had passed, and I was not a mother. I would go to church and see all the mothers with their children. I would see all the girls who were pregnant, who had been married only a few months. I would sit through lessons and testimonies on motherhood and how special it is to be a mother, and my heart would be tearing up inside. I was reminded of all the children around the world who are treated unfairly, and of all the mothers who do not take sufficient care of their children. I was reminded how unfair it all was. I would say I didn't care, but, of course, I did.

At church, on previous Mother's Days, all the "mothers" would get a flower, or some kind of gift or treat. I always took the gift because it was expected of me. I took the gift because if I really said, "I am not a mother. I don't deserve one because I'm useless," people would be taken aback by my sick sense of self. If I really let my feelings show, people would try and make me feel better. I didn't want to feel better. I only wanted to boil in my own pot of self-pity. And boil I did.

Obviously, this Mother's Day is a new, bright Mother's Day. It will be one of joy, and one I have looked forward to for many years. As happy as I am, I do know that there is another woman out there who loves Megan, too.

Megan's birthmother surely will feel some pain on Mother's Day. I am not in contact with her and do not know how her feelings stand about the adoption. However, I have to assume that she still thinks about Megan every day, because I'm sure I would were I in her situation. Birthmom carried Megan in her womb; I carry Megan in my arms. Birthmom took care of Megan's tiny, helpless body; I take care of her growing body. Birthmom fed her with adorable genes; I feed her with love and affection. I cannot forget what Birthmom did for us. There are approximately 1.5 million abortions every year in the United States (yes, it makes me sick, too), and Birthmom was a strong woman to carry Megan to full-term. I am lucky that she is one of the (unfortunately, too few) people who believe in the sanctity of life. I will never forget her. I will be grateful to her forever, and I don't care what anyone has to say about that.

I wonder what Birthmom will do come Sunday. Will she look at the photo books of Megan we have sent her? Will she read the letters we have sent her every month? Will she have any regrets? Will she cry? Will she rejoice? Or, will she try not to think about it? As nerve-wracking as it would be, I sometimes wish I could speak to her. We never got to meet her, and I would like her to know how much I appreciate what she did for Megan, and for us. I can only say so much in a letter, and with every letter, the things I say must sound redundant. I just want her to know that I think of her, especially at this tender time. I want her to know that I care. I want her to know, above all, that the child she carried is happy and healthy and well taken-care of. I want her to know that I hope she finds joy. I hope things go right for her in her life, and that she will feel blessed. I want her to know she made the right choice for Megan. So here's to you, Catherine, and all other birthmothers out there. Know we love you.

Dear Catherine, I think of you this Mother's Day.