“The Loss”

Whoever coined the term, “you don’t know what you got until it’s gone,” knew what they were talking about. As a birthmother- I have never faced a loss so profound. It is like a death because a part of you dies. You never realize how many babies there are until you do not hold your own. Commercials with babies seem to flood the television at a level you were never so consciously aware of, you become more sensitive to walking down the aisle of the baby department, and seeing a young couple happily appearing with baby seems to pierce your heart. You never really think about what you have lost, until you know that no matter what you say or do- the finality of your choice is over, and from this day forth you no longer have a say. I have spoken with many birthmothers and have heard their opinions on how much, if any they think they are allowed to be involved. Sadly, many feel as though they have no say. They realize that two other people serve as mommy and daddy. A choice made yes, but a harsh reality still remains.

As a birthmother, I know that I relinquished my right to parent. From the day I signed the relinquishment papers to the day my daughter turns eighteen, I have no verbal say. And even then- will I have say? I gave up my right to watch my daughter sleeping in the next room, teaching her to say her first word, being present for her first steps, walking her to the front door of school on her first day, absent from her first date, and the list goes on. Upon signing the adoption papers, we soon return to every day life. Only this time—we realize what an absence we have lost. At the time I placed I never really took the time to comprehend just what I would lose. I didn’t lose my baby. I lost my child. I relinquished all the years of her life, not just her infancy. Perhaps that is what makes being a birthmother such a journey, and a loss.

“Absent From My Hands”

I long for the brief memories we shared when I physically could touch your face,

no amount of happiness I experience will ever be able to take your special place.

I awake to your memory and close my eyes to the remembrance of your smile,

I draw my strength in knowing I can hold you again; even only if for a short while.

Someone else gets to kiss your face hold you tight and watch you sleep,

your first word and all the memories—I won’t have to keep.

I won’t be there to drop you off for your very first day of school,

absent as the role of mom- in protecting you and laying down the rules.

I will have no verbal say in what paths in life you choose to follow,

that is the part of this whole thing that makes my heart seem hollow.

Every picture that I get is a reminder of how you look just like me,

when I call to hear your okay- it’s not enough- I long to see.

You may be absent from my hands but never from my soul,

you are the one true gift God gave me in order to be whole.

When sadness overcomes me for the loss I so often face,

I remember that it was I who held you first in my warm embrace.

I wrote this poem when my daughter was about a month and a half old. It was when life had returned to normal, and the loss had settled in, that I realized I did not just lose my baby—I lost my daughter. My daughter was not at the babysitters- my daughter was gone. Phone calls from the adopting parents seemed to come less frequently, and there was a time that I began to feel forgotten. Here I was facing the loss of my daughter, and having it stab my heart every moment. Then I pictured the adopting family happy, and resuming life with my child. That thought made me so sad, bitter, and even jealous.

Then there were the times I would go out in public, and have others question me. I remember one instance in particular. A girl I had gone to high school with came up to me in the grocery store and she stared at me. Immediately she said, “where is she?” I had no idea what she meant, so I said, “where is who?” She said, “where is your daughter?” I couldn’t even force the words out. I just stood there, and it seemed as though eternity had passed. I looked at her and said, “she is at home.” Walking out of the store that day I cried and felt the loss just as if it were the day I kissed my daughter goodbye. It just would have been better for me to not have her ask at all. This was the beginning of the birthmother journey, and I would soon learn that many more questions and comments would follow. I would just have to learn to deal with the absence of my daughter in my life.

Many months have passed by now. I find the absence is still there, but I have learned to deal with it. I have learned it is a choice that I do accept that I must deal with it. I have heard many people say, “time heals the wounds.” I strongly disagree. It is what I do with that time that helps me heal. Losing my child to relinquishment is not a wound- it is a scar. A deep scar that pierces the heart and marks the soul, but I must always remember it was my choice. I chose the scars, and I chose the loss.

Britney Michelle Neilson

November 2003