Friday, 22 July 2011

A Tale of Two Mothers: An Adoption Story

(c) Pig on The Run

Today on our adoption and fostering blog, we hear from Molly, who tells a poetic story of how her daughter's birth mother handed her over - and how they are preparing to meet again 24 years later.


It was snowing the day I met you - my daughter's mother.

It was a long journey there. I spent the entire time in silence as the car sped down the motorway and then meandered through the countryside until we came to the address.

The social worker from the adoption agency was waiting for us and quietly introduced us to you. You were very young and beautiful. We hit it off immediately. My husband sat on the settee without saying a word while you and I rattled ten to the dozen.

You loved jumble sales just like me, something that amused us both. We found plenty to talk about even though, in truth, we probably had very little in common; except for our bubbly personalities and our strong maternal instincts. 

The time passed all too quickly. I had thoroughly enjoyed your company despite my initial nervousness. Soon we were on our way home. I wondered if we’d see you again.

We did - at your request. It was your wish that you be the one that handed the baby over to us. Just as it had been your wish to meet us when you had been pregnant. It was the first time you had picked your daughter up, just as it was the first time I had held mine.

We sat at your bedside in the hospital for what seemed like hours. Taking it in turns to hold and gaze at the four day old little girl who slept contentedly the whole time. I guess we must have talked, but I don’t recall much of the conversation, except being asked what sort of food we liked to eat. 

Eventually it was time to go. I reluctantly took the baby back to the nursery. All the other cots were empty. I didn’t like the thought of her being there all on her own, but I laid her down anyway and said my goodbyes.

You stood outside the nursery door in your dressing gown. We held onto each other for a few seconds, the silence as vocal as a thousand words. As I walked down the corridor on the way out I looked back and you were still there.You hadn’t moved an inch. I had a huge lump in my throat. Once more I wondered if I would ever see you again.

No names, no addresses, no contact. Your choice.

We drove back home through the February snow.

Five eternal days later we went to pick up our daughter from the adoption agency. The social worker handed us a letter from you. On the envelope in the most beautiful, artistic writing it said, “To the Adopters.” I put it in my bag to read later.

To this day that letter makes me cry. “I’m glad you were chosen to be the parents and hope that out of my sadness you’ll find joy. God bless all three of you.”

We did find joy. Enormous joy. 

Our daughter traced you a few years ago and you generously welcomed her into her extended birth family and now, 24 years on from that hospital visit, I’m preparing to meet you, my daughter’s mother, again.

For more info and advice about adoption, please visit the BAAF website. If you need support tracing your birth relatives, you may find our search and reunion site useful.







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