In a few minutes it will be August 9, 2017. My daughter’s 12th birthday. I can think of a million things to say to our sweet girl. But all night, I’ve been writing a letter to an unknown mother…my baby girl’s birth mom. I write this unknown woman a letter several times a year in my head. I come at it from several angles. See, I’m Clara’s adoptive mom. But I’m also an adopted daughter. I see two of the three sides involved in adoption. Thoughts run amuck in my little head when I let them.
So, dear unknown mother, I write to you, knowing you will likely never see this. I know so very, very little about you. Actually, nothing in reality. I know that Clara was found in the bushes outside a hospital in Jiangmen City, China on a day in October 2005. I don’t know who laid her in the bushes in that very busy place, knowing she would be found and taken care of. Was it you? Was it a family member? Maybe her birth father? A local woman who takes care of such things? I don’t have a report from the police or the hospital to tell me how she was. If she was well, just left there. Was she sick or hurt? Did she have a bump on her head? Was she sleeping or crying? I heard that they guessed she was about two months olds. They assigned her the birthdate of August 9, 2005.
But I wonder. Who are you? Were you a young girl, afraid, not knowing what to do with a baby? Were you a mother who needed a son? Was Clara sick or crying a lot and you didn’t know what to do? Did you long to keep her, even though the law said you could not? Did you hold her long, look into her beautiful little face, memorizing everthing about her? Did you nurse her one more time? Did you hide across the street watching to make sure someone found her and took her into the hospital? Did you almost give yourself away with you weeping? Or did you turn your back and walk away stoically, vowing to not look back, knowing what you had to do? Did anyone notice? Did no one see the fear or sadness or anxiety on your face?
Sometimes people tell me “it must be so hard, having so much you don’t know.” At first I kind of thought they were right. But, eleven years later, I can’t selfishly think that anymore. Because there is an unknown mother, somewhere in China, who knows so very little about her child. I wish I could tell her that she was the happiest baby and made us laugh all the time. That she was smothered with hugs and kisses and love by everyone who met her. I wish she could know that Clara has one dimple and is left-handed. That she loves to dance and is joyous every day! I wish I could tell her that Clara is adventurous and loves to try new things. She loves to travel and explore. She likes to try new foods, experience new cultures, meet new friends. I wish she could see how Clara lights up when her brother walks into the room. Or watch her race her dad upstairs every night. Or hear her laughing hysterically with her best friend upstairs. I wish she could see her, big as she is, climb into my lap each night for “snuggle time”. Or catch her talking to Judy (her bitty baby doll) in bed at night.
And I wonder…does that unknown mom have just one dimple too? Is she a free spirit, joyfully dancing through life too? Does she loves a good party? Get excited about food…more than the average child? Is she left handed too? Does she forget to use the right side of her body like Clara does? Does she love math way more than reading? Would she sit and do Legos for hours on end without getting out of the chair? Has she ever seen The Sound of Music?
Over the last twelve years I have prayed for Clara’s birth mom much like I have prayed for my own birth mom. I’ve prayed for peace. Peace that only God could give them, to know that we are ok. I’ve prayed that they would know Jesus. I pray for workers to share the gospel wherever these women are. And I pray again, for God to give them peace in knowing that we are loved fully, blessed abundantly, grateful to them for making a VERY hard decision that impacted all of our lives.
So, as my baby girl sleeps upstairs, officially 12 years old by now, I go to bed, with those prayers on my lips. And a song of gratitude in my heart. Happy birthday sweet Clara!!! I love you more than all the numbers!
MoreThanAllTheNumbers 