I wrote her a letter, which I never let anyone else read and never sent. For the sake of so many adoptees out there, and their healing, I would like to offer this.
May 28, 1984
Dear Little Darlin',
I don't know how you must feel about this imaginary person who gave birth to you. Either anger at having abandoned you or being willing to give you to somebody else, or blessedness that I loved you enough to give you a real family. Perhaps I should tell you the basics. Maybe you'll understand this/me a little more.
Your father was a dear friend, not a love, but we shared many things in common, and I wouldn't have given up his friendship for the world. I only saw him once after you were born and then we talked about how you had affected our lives. I remember wondering, "How can a 15-second old baby look like a twenty year old man?" Whatever, it was true. Your birthday was six days after his. He loved history and fantasy and when I had contemplated keeping you, he said, "Send me a picture. I want to send it a sword on its 14th birthday." I loved him for that.
At first, he wanted me to have an abortion though he didn't even offer his opinion till he'd heard mine. You'll no doubt be please to hear that that never even was considered. You were starting to live, and you were going to stay that way if I had anything to say about it.
At first, I was shaky when I found out because I was afraid of disappointing my parents. But I was happy at the same time, because I'd ruptured an ovary once and I felt that God was saying, "See, you don't have anything to worry about." I have to admit, that though most people wouldn't think having an illegitimate child something to be proud of, in these days when there are so many couples incapable of having children, I couldn't help feeling a trifle smug.
My parents and I prayed about you (fortunately, they agreed with me on the no abortion) and they figured that adoption was the best thing. I was relieved and happy for several reasons. One of the major ones was realizing what a child I was and how incapable of being on my own, let alone caring for a child of my own. Another big reason was that I would be steward of a very special Christmas gift. God had an important purpose for me.
I had hard times, but overall, I loved being pregnant. It was a happy time, with not a huge amount of tears, surrounded by loving, Christian people.
One thing you should never, ever be afraid of. And that is that you weren't wanted. On the contrary, everyone wanted you. They put you on my stomach and I wanted to touch you so badly, and I had a great deal of trouble saying that I didn't want to see you. Every once in a while, I wish I had, but just because I promised God I would give you up didn't mean I had to be a martyr. The day after you were born, the lawyer called to make sure I hadn't been coerced into giving you up. He asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this. That was the hard time, but after I crossed that hurdle, God took me in His arms just as I wanted to take you.
My mom and dad looked at you and my dad said afterward, "I wouldn't have minded keeping her." It took all my strength not to say, "Neither would I."
My grandmother called to hear how it had gone and said that it was a good thing she hadn't seen you; she would have wanted to take you home.
The choir director at our church, who also taught me piano, was willing to move out of the state to have you.
Your father said to me when I last saw him, "It's hard to keep up the devil-may-care attitude I always try to come across with when there's something I do care about." I think you really made him.
There's an old saying, "Any woman can be a mother, but it takes someone special to be a mom." I'm your mother, not your mom, but as the lawyer told me, you're doubly blessed in having two sets of parents, all of whom love.
Lord willing, someday, I'll have other children, but I don't think any of them will be what you were, because you were mine; no one else really had a claim on you. In my mind, I always called you L.D.: Little Darlin'. I had been pretending about a someone like you since three years before you were born. I imagined traipsing around Germany with you on my back, and going for hikes in the Indiana Dunes and the Northwoods. If you love the woods, that explains it; both your father and I loved the forest.
I expect that you'll be fascinated by anything imaginary; a combination of both him and I couldn't be anything else. And thanks to the loving household that I was told about, I know that that imagination will work wonders.
Mother
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