This is my experience with adoption. It is lengthy, so settle in with a cup of coffee…  Read my abortion story here.

First I should tell you that I was raised in a Christian home. My mom was a pastor’s daughter and raised in a parsonage. My dad met the Lord at a weenie roast when he was 11 (betcha didn’t know Jesus enjoys weenie roasts!!!), but really didn’t come to know the meaning of his relationship with the Lord until I was 5. My mom took us kids to church and some of my earliest memories are of being at church, singing “Jesus Loves Me,” and coming home to my dad who was usually watching football on TV. Well, that all changed when he joined the Air Force and his first station assignment was at Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage, Alaska. He went first to try to find us housing and his boss invited him to church. These days that would probably be considered politically “uncorrect” but since when has Faith ever been politically correct? Anyway – my dad started going to church and really began walking with God, and by the time we all moved to Alaska to be with him, he was on fire for the Lord.

I came to know the Lord when I was 6. Since I’d heard about Jesus and how he died on the Cross for ME from the time I could remember, I was familiar with the story. What I didn’t understand was that He died for me because a) I’m a sinner, and b) I need God. So I asked Jesus to come into my heart & life.

My relationship with Him was deeply personal and sweet. Nobody forced me to do anything – as a matter of fact, I kept asking my parents about getting saved and finally after my 6th birthday and several weeks of asking, mom led me in the simple prayer. Then I wanted to get baptized because that was the next step, and they waited and explained things to me to make sure I understood what I wanted to do. I had a walking relationship with the Lord and it was meaningful to me. Until I got older and realized that not so many of my Christian friends had the same kind of relationship – and I felt left out. I was the “goody two-shoes” who wouldn’t or couldn’t do all the things they could, and I let resentment creep into my heart and began to turn away from the Lord more & more. (Hello Eve and the fruit from the tree…)

When I was 16, I was in a relationship with a guy whom my parents despised (with good reason), but whom I stubbornly remained attached to (because I was young). At 17, I was pregnant. A junior in high school. An honor roll student. And pregnant. Terrified. Freaked out. Afraid my dad would kill the guy. My boyfriend & I decided to abort. It was not something I supported or even believed in, but I felt desperate and rather than looking for help, I took the easy route. Well, what I imagined would be the easy route. It was instead, a long road of heartache and pain and self-inflicted misery. You can read my abortion story here.

At 18, I was pregnant yet again (obviously, I learn the hard way). Now a Senior in high school. But resolved. I’d broken up with the “guy” (whom I only somewhat affectionately referred to as the “sperm donor” for several years) and knew I would never abort this baby. His response was, “Oh, you can just have another abortion.” NOT ON YOUR LIFE, BUDDY! To my firm reaction – he left town. I counseled with a friend at a pregnancy counseling center – which was very eye opening and really helped me consider ALL aspects of aborting, keeping, or giving up the baby – and settled on Adoption. The father was out of the picture at this point, so it was up to me to decide what to do with this little life inside me.

Being a wife & mommy was the only thing I ever really wanted to do since I was young. The idea of now giving up my own child made me sad, but since keeping him was not feasible, and abortion was not an option – Adoption made sense to me. Looking at several couple & family profiles was interesting (since I’ve always been the nosy type) and I was gradually able to narrow it down to three. I was trying to settle on one of them and was not feeling easy about it, so I prayed one day on my way home from school. God & I had been having some “go-rounds” through all of this and He was slowly, patiently easing my way back to Him. I was convinced that I could ask Him for anything because He was my Father. So I began asking Him for things I’d like to find in parents to raise my son.

Besides the basic prerequisite that both parents should be believers, I wanted the mom to have long hair and play the piano. (I always wanted long hair to my waist, but my hair doesn’t “do” that, and I never got to take serious piano lessons which I’d always wanted to do.) I’d like for mom &/or dad to be able to enjoy music, singing, and speak at least one other language (My entire family loved to sing and we were always involved in church choirs & musicals; I never studied another language and wanted that for my child.) I prayed that they would have a dog or some other family pet (We didn’t have a lot of pets growing up). I prayed that the dad would be in the military (as mine was). I continued to pray this wish list with odds & ends.

An old friend living in another state called out of the blue one night. He asked if I was still considering adopting the baby out and said he knew a couple at church who had attempted to adopt a couple of times, only to have the birth mom back out at the last second. He wanted to know if I’d be interested in talking with them. Absolutely, I said, so the phone call arrangements were made. The next night the phone rang, and I heard a soft, sweet, southern voice on the other end and was immediately put at ease. Cyndi and Armando (he’s Venezuelan) were on the line and we chatted somewhat ill at ease for the first 15 minutes. Seriously, what do you say to each other during a phone call like this?

At one point, Cyndi said something funny and all three of us started laughing – which put us all at ease and the conversation moved into deeper things. I had a notebook with some questions I wanted to ask and as I began walking through my “prayer-wish list,” I could see that I was checking off each and every thing I’d asked for. From Cyndi having waist-long hair and playing the piano, to Armando being in the Air Force and knowing 5 (yes, FIVE) languages. I was reeling when I got off the phone. I was breathless and excited and KNEW in my heart that they were the ones. I came out and announced to my family that they were the ones! It wasn’t exactly greeted with the same level of excitement, but as time wore on, and I talked with Cyndi & Armando more and more, I was so thankful that God was giving this blessing to me.

I thought I’d gone too far away from God to ever deserve His grace. But the truth is, I never deserved it in the first place, even when I was a “good girl,” and He was beginning to reveal Himself to me in new ways.

I completed my Senior year of high school without any complications. I was thankful that I wasn’t asked to leave school and could graduate. So there I was graduation night, 38 1/2 weeks pregnant, still graduating with honors. Less than 48 hours later, I gave birth to a gorgeous 8.5 lb, 20 1/2″ long baby boy. With the support of my best friend from high school who bravely agreed to be my labor coach (she has always been spunky like that), and after only 3.5 hours of labor, Mikhael was born. His parents had chosen Mikhael as his name because it means “Who is like God?” We all thought that was appropriate!!! When I first saw him, I thought he looked exactly like my brother, Dan…

My mom called Cyndi & Armando and told them Mikhael was here – they were surprised, because he came almost 2 weeks early – but they would fly in that night. To me, I felt like I was given this one special day with my baby and I took advantage of it. The hospital staff was very sweet & thoughtful & supportive & accommodating. I can remember holding him when I was finally settled into my room and trying to memorize his beautiful little face. I cried a little, but not a lot. I honestly felt like my room was full of angels and I had no real reason to cry. I don’t mean that flippantly, but those days in the hospital were like few days I’ve ever experienced before. I felt God’s presence in that room and I never felt alone. When Cyndi & Armando walked in, I was holding Mikhael and asked if they wanted to hold their son. To me, it was the right thing to do and I had no qualms about saying it. She sat on the bed and just threw her arms around me and held us both.

From the very beginning, both Cyndi & Armando assured me that they would love me no matter what – whether I decided not to give the baby up or changed my mind. They repeatedly supported me and never hesitated to answer questions. We had agreed to remain in contact for up to one year after Mikhael’s birth, and I felt like family to them.

Cyndi & I connected strongly and deeply and I adored her from the second I saw her. After getting to know her more, I saw how many similarities we shared and thought it was a special blessing to me that his mommy was a lot like me. I felt like a part of me would be raising him even though she & I weren’t related. I felt the way Moses’ mother must have felt when she was able to take him back home after the Egyptian Princess adopted him…

Mikhael had a lengthy stay in the hospital due to jaundice, which gave all of us some time together. The week was somewhat of a blur – the court hearing, a last minute demand by Mikhael’s birth father to talk “or else…” in which I truly saw him for the first time. I saw who he really was and wondered what I could have ever possibly seen in him to think he was attractive. My family spent an evening visiting with Cyndi & Armando at their hotel (with a pool which my younger brothers enjoyed) and it was lovely.

The day came for them to leave, and throughout the week after I was discharged from the hospital, they would come pick me up to spend the day with them at the hospital with Mikhael. I bonded with Cyndi permanently. When Mikhael was discharged they drove me home to say good-bye. They were both crying and I just hugged them. They allowed me to love my baby and hold my baby without any hesitation or reservation and while it was incredibly hard to see them leave with him – I knew it was the right & perfect thing to do.

There were many hard moments since – but no moments of regret. And the one year of contact stretched into many years, and after I got married and had Princess Curly, Mikhael wanted to meet his sister, so Roy, Curly & I flew to visit him and had a really beautiful, fun, fantastic time together. Now that Princess Georgie is here, we hope to be able to visit again and introduce them and enjoy each other.

Anyone who is considering adoption – birth mom, adoptive parent – or who knows someone who is adopting should understand one thing very clearly: The Birth Mom needs love regardless of the decision she makes.

When I was pregnant – it was a very difficult time for my family.  We had so many other traumatic events and devastating circumstances going on – our book would read like a Primetime Drama Mini-series – and it was as if my family (as I knew it) was picked up, smashed,  and just scattered about. Amongst the physical, spiritual, and mental catastrophes occurring in our lives during that time, I began to see God for who He is, and not my idea or image of Him.

The one thing I always felt from Cyndi – always – was unconditional love.  When I felt pretty worthless, disappointed in myself, stupid, confused, lost, alone – and with good reason considering my choices – Cyndi always expressed this warm, unconditional love towards me.  She embraced me into her heart before she ever held my son – her son.  I knew without a doubt that she was the ONLY one I could give my own child to.  Only God could do that.  She was God’s arms to me during one of the most difficult times of my life.  She was the embodiment of Christ to me and am ever grateful for her continued love.  She is My Sister in Christ, in Spirit, and in My Heart.