It was a safe place for her to admit her fears. Fears I had once shared.
“Open adoptions scare me,” she said.
She had sent me a message on Facebook asking about our relationship with Jackson’s birth mother. I invited her to lunch. There are just some conversations that are better in person.
I wanted her to know that having a relationship with a birth mother can be a blessing. I didn’t want her to be afraid. God had taken away my fears about open adoption and I knew He would do the same for her.
The day I sat beside Jackson’s birth mom, holding her hand, waiting for the image of my son to pop up on the screen, the Holy Spirit whispered to my heart.
“This is about more than you becoming a mother. You have a chance to be my hands and feet to this girl. She has nobody else.”
Warm tears slid down my cheeks.
In that moment, God opened my eyes to the eternal impact relationships between birth mothers and adoptive families can have.
He reminded me again on my first Mother’s Day.
I peeked in on Jackson and found him wide-awake. He wasn’t hungry, and he wasn’t crying. He just wasn’t sleepy. I probably should have left him alone, but there would be a day when my Little Man wouldn’t want to be rocked.
I stared at the verse painted on the nursery wall like I had done so many times before. “I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of Him” (1 Samuel 1:27). I rocked Jackson by the glow of the streetlight pouring into the room through the cracks in the blinds. It was after midnight, my first Mother’s Day.
Our families were in town to celebrate the occasion as well as Jackson’s dedication at church.
I had called Allison the previous day—Birth Mother’s Day—to thank her for the precious gift she had given me. She had sent me a beautiful Mother’s Day card and had signed it “Much Gratitude, Allison.”
But like the night before the sonogram, I was overcome with grief. Jackson sucked on his pacifier as I rocked him. I silently prayed for my baby boy and thanked God for letting me be his mommy. The weekend would be full of joy and celebration for me, but I knew that wasn’t the case for Jackson’s birth mom.
I prayed for God to comfort Allison. I kissed Jackson’s head and held him a little tighter. Allison would never rock him. She would never walk into his room in the early morning hours and be greeted by his crazy bed-head and wide, toothless grin. Something about that realization made me sad. Would Allison feel sad, or would the day pass without any thought of Jackson? Would Mother’s Day always bring such a mix of emotions?
I sat in the dark, holding my son as he slept, and the tears began to fall. I realized Allison would always be a part of my Mother’s Day celebrations; after all, she was Jackson’s mother too.
***This post contains an excerpt from Jennifer’s book Bringing Home the Missing Linck: A Journey from Faith to Family. Use the Rafflecopter widget below for your chance to win a copy of her book or you can purchase a copy of the book here!
Jennifer wants to bring hope to first-time mothers who aren’t quite sure what they’ve gotten themselves into.The author of Bringing Home the Missing Linck: A Journey of Faith to Family, Jennifer is passionate about adoption, orphan care, and encouraging others who are struggling with infertility. A graduate of the University of Oklahoma, Jennifer received a bachelor’s degree in journalism and spent several years working as a reporter for The Oklahoman. Jennifer squeezes in writing between diaper changes and dirty dishes. She’s unashamed of her addiction to Dr. Pepper and loves anything related to a cupcake!She lives in Oklahoma with her husband, John, and their son Jackson. She blogs about her faith, motherhood, and adoption at www.jeniferjacksonlinck.com
photo credit: ninacoco via photopin cc, text added by Jen