Thank you.

You decided, from the very beginning, that my life was important. From the day you decided to carry me to term, to the day that you bravely handed me over to a loving Christian family…

You put me first, and that means more to me than you will ever know.

The amount of courage it took to decide that I was deserving of more than you felt you could give me at the time is incredibly selfless, and I can only hope that I would do the same.

I also want to say thank you because you sure know how to pick ‘em! (My parents are great!)

Thank you for listening closely to God’s voice when deciding on who should nurture and care for me. My parents are truly amazing, and I cannot thank you enough.

They have supported me in everything I set my mind to, encouraged me throughout my struggles, and most importantly they pray for me daily.

So just know that you did the right thing. If you ever ponder that, I hope God gives you the peace he has given me.

As I am sure your responses have varied over the years, I find that often times when I speak on my adoption, I hear things like, “Oh I’m so sorry” and “It must have been so confusing growing up." I am even asked if this is a “sensitive topic” or “are you mad at your birth mother?"

Well, to clear things up, I want you to know that I am not mad at you. I never was, nor do I see a reason to be. You were always spoken of highly in my house and my parents made sure the word “adoption” was taught to me early on. There were no secrets and no surprises.

No, I don’t feel rejected, and no I am not sorry this “happened to me”.

I believe adoption is a beautiful thing, and I am not at all sad to be a part of it.

Don’t let anyone tell you that what you did was wrong, that I am suffering inside as a result, or that I am missing out on something because you didn’t keep me.

That is ridiculous.

I am happy.

I had a great childhood.

It was one filled with laughter from my dad and I.

I turned out to be a daddy’s girl,

puppies

found out the hard way, I was allergic to cats,

afternoons spent playing in the street with the neighborhood kids

usually resulted in skinned up knees and busted elbows #tomboylife,

and being told every single day,

that I was loved by so many people in my life.

Basically, I want you to know that I was more than provided for.

I was fed, read to, spoiled, loved unconditionally, prayed for, watched over, disciplined (yes, I was spanked, but trust me, I needed it), supported, encouraged and, best of all, I was given a younger sister. She, like me, was adopted.

So no,

I am not missing out,

But that doesn’t mean that I’m not missing you.

People like to assume that I have a missing place in my heart, a place only you could fill. Rather than viewing myself as incomplete, I see it differently.

It is more like I am saving a space in my heart for you, and a place in my life.

I am eager to reach a potential time in my life where we become so comfortable around each other that sitting in silence isn’t weird, and speaking comes easy.

I become giddy when thinking of the chance to hear about how you grew up, your favorite musicians, and the day you found God, or maybe when God found you….

As excited as I am though, I am also patient.

I find comfort in the idea of God’s timing, rather than my own, and I care too much to rush things.

So just know,

as soon as God gives the green light,

I’ll be ready to meet you halfway.

I’ll be the brown eyed, curly haired girl, carrying journals full of poetry, juggling

baby pictures, and wearing a nervous smile.

But until then,

know that I love you,

and I will forever thank you for giving me the gift of life and allowing me a chance at a future…

A chance to play soccer as soon as I learned to run, the opportunity to develop a love for reading and writing, to witness God work heavily within my life, join track clubs, sing in the choir, and most importantly,

the chance to grow up knowing that I was loved...

and not just by one “mother”, but by two.