Most people look at a child’s adoption as a beautiful thing, but rarely see the birth parents in a positive light.
In October 2012, the day my daughter was born, I lit several candles and whispered all my love for her into her ears. I pulled her against my body and tried to memorize her scent. I stared into her eyes. She stared into mine. I prayed, with every bit of strength left in me, that one day we could talk about all of this. On that day, I imagined, I could tell her all about her amazing parents, my parents, and Ray: the man I loved who had passed away only two years before.
I ran into the woman who would become my daughter’s mother at the 2012 Women of the World Poetry Slam in Denver. When she shared through tears that she and her husband had started the adoption process, I knew my answer. My decision came easily, with the sort of clarity I’d never experienced before and haven’t again since.