Routed Out

You just try not to cry as you read the last few entries at This Woman's Work, as Dawn and her family wait out a birthmother's decision. I feel as though someone has jammed a branding iron onto my heart. I can't even imagine the steel it takes to share the blow-by-blow as it happens, as the baby is born, as the hospital stay unfolds, as the decisive hour approaches. Were I Dawn, I would be hunched in the corner, retching and rocking on my heels.

It is also shaming to be exposed to the kind of raw emotions I toyed with so flippantly and ignorantly when I was a birthmom. My situation was never real to me, at a very young age 20, so how could I understand the position of the adoptive parents? Maybe I'll keep the baby. Maybe I won't. But I'll just call you any time I'm thinking about changing my mind, to ensure that you can't sleep at night.

Someday I'll write down my whole story, but not today. I'm more interested in Dawn's now than in my past. If you can spare any good thoughts, or have magic powers that enable you to create real world happy endings, please do do the right thing by her today.

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