On Dec. 11, the adoptive parents of my baby finalized the adoption in court. Even though I had signed over my rights six months earlier, I dreaded this day. The pounding of the final coffin nail rang in my ears. My fate as a birthmother was sealed.
Being at the beginning of my journey as a birthmother, I can see two roads ahead of me. One path follows a stream of denial. The other path climbs a mountain of acknowledgement, love, beauty.
Following the stream seems easier than climbing the mountain, since the pathway is level and less intimidating. But the stream will not lead me around the mountain, only keep me in its shadow.
To ascend to the mountain’s peak, I know I will have to struggle with fear, regret and grief. But I will also be on the path that many courageous birthmothers before me have traveled.
These are the birthmothers I want to follow: those who have bravely endured the loss of their children and pushed ahead to forge a path through the resistance of family, friends, and even themselves. This year, I will climb the mountain.