I noticed their nametags first. Then, I noticed a year written underneath each woman’s name. I saw years ranging from 2018 to the early 2000’s. My mind scrambled to put the pieces together. This was, after all, my first birth mother’s day brunch. I wasn’t sure how this would go. Still trying to figure it all out, I let my eyes sweep the room. Beautiful spring tables topped with bright Begonia’s filled with breakfast foods and conversations that were in full bloom. I looked at another nametag worn by a young woman who sat beside me.
Suddenly, the years listed made sense. Suddenly, I saw. I knew.
The year listed was the year these mothers placed their baby’s for adoption. The year they lived out – and are still living out – what it means to love sacrificially. Recklessly.
I cried. I have a birth mother. 1972 would have been written on my birth mom’s nametag. Some of the women I met, had placed so recently that at moments in our conversation, tears were their words. Their anguish was palpable. Yet, so was their resolve to love their child the best way they knew how which was to allow another family to step in and raise their beloved son or daughter.
I was blown away by their bravery in the midst of complicated circumstances.
Do you know what it’s like to talk to women who’ve released their child fully into the hands of God, of another human being, not knowing what comes next? It was a gloriously painful picture of adoption that haunts me still.
That Saturday, I was changed by their stories. I was humbled by their authenticity. I was reminded that God’s redemptive plan isn’t easy. In fact, it’s far from it. But, when our eyes are open, we can see that it always points us back to Him. God’s redemptive love was evident at the luncheon, present in the lives of the women I met, even if they didn’t know it yet.
–Amie Beth, Adoptee