The Birth Mother Freezes –


The Birth Mother walked up to the glass doors of the school’s auditorium, in which the reunion was to take place. The Birth Mother taped a reminder to her bathroom mirror, to remind herself to send a Thank You card to her children’s parents for planning the reunion.

The Birth Mother was trying to smile, through all of her nerves that were severely wrecked. She tried to hold herself together. In her arms, she held a large box of things she had collected throughout the years.

The Birth Mother opened the door, walked into the building, looking anywhere she could to avoid seeing her children – before she could mentally prepare herself for the emotions that had been building all of those years.

The Birth Mother put the box down on the ground. She looked to the far left and to the far right. The Birth Mother knew her children would be somewhere in the middle of the room, but she was terrified of laying eyes on them. She was so scared that she would have a meltdown, right there – in front of everyone.

The Birth Mother reminded herself of the breathing techniques that she had been practicing for 15 years. Breathe in. Breathe out. Okay. No. Breathe in. Breathe out. Would she ever be ready to look at her children? Only seconds had gone by, but she knew people would begin to notice her standing near the door and the table next to it.

The Birth Mother took two steps forward, breathing in and out. She began to have the courage to look up, toward the people. Among the people, stood her two grown children. Lady Bug, her daughter, and Sweet Sesame, her son.

Happy Anniversary, Lady Bug!


Happy (1 year) Anniversary of Adoption, Lady Bug!

I’m so very happy for you. You are where you belong and where you should be.

You never leave my heart or mind. You’re my beautiful almost-4-year-old.

Yesterday, in class, I started crying (for another reason). An intern counselor asked me if I needed to talk. While we talked, I spoke of you, Precious Picklette, and Sweet Sesame.

When I told the counselor about you, I said, “My two and a half year old…

I had to stop myself. “Oh, …well, she’s almost four, but in my mind – she’s still two and a half.”

You’ll always be my baby.

Love – to you and your baby brother,

Your Birth Mother