LIFE

This morning I was getting ready and Bren was sitting on my bed. "I don't know if I like my ears or my belly button more...I think my ears," he says. Then he asks, "Mom, what does a belly button DO?"

Bren is at a point now that he is quite aware of two things: he did not come from my belly, and he is not the same color as the rest of us. In turn, I am extremely aware that how I portray these two facts will guide his attitude about both being adopted and being black. Honestly, I don't know enough about either, so I just always try my best to be positive, learn from any one I can and have complete faith that God did not set me on this path to see me fail. We are just a work in progress.

Bren turned five this week, and on his birthday, I always think of his birth mother. We know so little about her, but as a mother, I know she must think about the little boy she carried. I wish I could tell her that he is thriving. That he can write, is starting to read, that he loves Star Wars, he has lost two teeth, he can ride a two-wheeler...most of all, that he is loved, that he is safe, and that he has such an amazing future--I just know it. His birthday also falls two days before the anniversary of Roe v. Wade, and this year, March for Life embraced the theme of adoption. Two themes that have deeply colored my life and who I am today.

Spring of my junior year in college, I found myself pregnant and scared--I didn't choose adoption....in fact, it didn't even occur to me. I have gone over the memory a million times in the last twenty odd years trying to figure out what I was thinking, but mostly I can only remember blurred fear. I didn't give life a chance, and I have never been the same person.

In hindsight, I have never grasped why I made the choice: I was raised soundly Catholic by a mom who was actively pro-life; I had never believed in abortion in any way, but when I found myself in that situation I only remember fear. I didn't feel I could turn to my family; my parents were often too consumed fighting their own demons. At the moment, I was pretty much a scared kid, but really there isn't an excuse. I am 42 now, and I have rarely shared this or even fully admitted it to myself.

The guilt I harbored was, at times, more than I could bear. I spent the next five years pretty much trying to destroy myself. I could not forgive or forget. When I was finally able to go to the sacrament of reconciliation, I chose a young priest at my parish in D.C. I hoped he would help lift the burden that was destroying my soul. Instead, he basically told me that I probably shouldn't be allowed to be part of the church since I committed a mortal sin; he only reinforced what I was already thinking. It took me years after that to realize that was just one young priest--a human--not Jesus. I still struggle at times to truly accept my forgiveness...or even to forgive myself. Faith and my family eventually pulled me through so I could weave something positive. I look back and see the struggles and the transformations and how in the end so much of my life was always in God's hands.

I know the choice--I know it is a positive word for a negative that can truly destroy a person. When I see the pictures from the news, I wonder how many who fight for abortion rights truly know what they are choosing? I cringe when people try to argue that abortion empowers women--nothing could be further from the truth. I have always tried to spin positives from negative.  I know what I did; I know I cannot ever change it, but that doesn't have to be the end of the story. I am an infinitely better mom because of the struggles I have overcome and even for the poor choices I have made. I am open and supportive, and I constantly remind them that I will be there for them and love them NO MATTER WHAT. I always have open arms for them. I often recall moments when I felt completely lost and connect with that when I see them trying to figure out their path in life.

Bren's birth mom had choices. I know she had to have been scared, but I thank God that she choose life. God has a plan. I explain to Bren that his belly button is where he was attached to his birth mom. That cord fed him and kept him safe so that he could grow to be a strong, healthy baby. When he is older I will share with him what I know of her, but for now I just want him to know he is wanted and belongs. I believe his birth mom must have loved him. She chose to give him life and then she chose to let him go when she realized she couldn't beat the demons in her life. We all have demons--it is how we chose to fight them that determines who we are and who we will become.