Mary G Bruno

The fear in the room was palpable, and so was the pain of a thousand heartbreaks. After what felt like a lifetime after walking into the room but was probably more like 15 minutes, the nurse finally asked me if I wanted to hold her. She asked the birthmother’s permission right before I graciously accepted her into my arms and finally became a mother…

There were so many questions rumbling around my head in anticipation of becoming a new mother. I wondered how things would be different, most of all. Would I long for the days when Chris and I could go out spontaneously and for as long as we wanted? How much would I miss my personal time? How will I feel on very little sleep? How hard will it be to accommodate this new tiny human into every aspect of our lives? Will we feel a connection? The list could go on. As for any set of new parents, it ended up being an adjustment and, of course, some of it was hard, but she quite beautifully and naturally melted into our lives. I remember not even giving that stuff a second thought. Our family of three pleasantly began our newest adventure… But wait a minute, wasn’t there someone else involved? What happened to that other person?

Although it would have been a lot easier, we did not find Isabella on our doorstep, and the first mother she ever knew selflessly stayed behind having a very different experience than us. Generally birthmothers go unnoticed by the world, but this one has boldly become my unsung hero, awakening my heart to a world of sacrifice with a depth of love that I did not realize existed. Full disclosure: I anticipated adoptive motherhood and my relationship with a potential birthmother selfishly and was completely clueless. I, for some reason, thought that I had a right to some potential child and that I should worry about how a birthmother might view or claim her own attachment to said child- as if I was working against her in some way. Wow, I sound like a horrible person. But I had no idea what to expect and as I began to grasp and experience the facets of this new person in our lives, I also began to discover a hidden gem.

Our birthmother, let’s call her “Clare” (my middle name), Chris, and myself had an interesting time getting to know each other. We communicated very well, if you don’t consider spoken conversation. It was very simple- she spoke Spanish and we spoke English. We enlisted the help of a couple of friends (Gracias, Gross and Daisy!) who were fluent in Español and this was a big help. But you can only communicate so well through others and a translation app on your phone. “Buh-nah-nuh!” said the minions from “Despicable Me” and Clare’s other two munchkins. This we could understand! The movies they knew and this one was their favorite. But I always wondered how she was feeling and if her emotional and physical needs were really being met. I had Chris and many others to confide in, but who did she have? This mere 21-year-old had traveled from multiple states away from the little family she had in the United States, with her two other children, to an unknown place where people spoke an unknown language, where she was prepared to hand the child in her womb over to a couple who she could barely communicate with, and then return home post partum empty handed. As tiny as she was and as little as I expect she felt, Clare carried more strength in her pinky finger than most do in their enitre bodies.

Our adoption agency’s CEO accompanied us one day on a visit and he was able to translate for us. This is how we got to know Clare the most, besides some paperwork she had filled out. We were able to get a small glimpse into the world of this lonely mother who was unaware of how brave and selfless she was. She was a woman of very few words, and what she wanted us to understand most was that she was not giving this child up because she didn’t love her. We weren’t able to see much into her world, but it was clear that she felt like she could care for two children, but not three, and she wanted this third child to have a better life than she had and that she could provide. As I began to understand her, a deep desire for her to be well taken care of began to take root within me. She explained further in her paperwork that she “really wants a family with no kids (check) so she can feel like she is blessing them with a gift they can’t have otherwise…” She added that she “didn’t abort the baby because she knew there were women that couldn’t have a kid.” (check check!)

I had a genuine desire to get to know the woman that was carrying our future child. Most importantly, I wanted her to know that we cared about her as a person and that she has value and worth because of who she is, not just because she was giving us this perfect gift. But how could I let her know this? I felt for this woman as she approached her due date, only being able to imagine how she felt, while simultaneously attempting to balance that with my own feelings of excitement and anticipation. I could not have prepared for the experience I was about to observe in her.

When the time came, we walked into the birthing room. In this room, there were two women with a deep desire for a child, making the choice to love- one lying down and one standing up, both having carried a cross. One was latched tightly onto her treasured offspring, and the other was latched tightly onto her husband’s hand. One was prepared to sacrifice her rights for the sake of the child, and the other was finally able to have one by accepting that sacrifice. The fear in the room was palpable, and so was the pain of a thousand heartbreaks. After what felt like a lifetime after walking into the room but was probably more like 15 minutes, the nurse finally asked me if I wanted to hold her. She asked our birthmother’s permission right before I graciously accepted her into my arms and finally became a mother. As the tension of Clare’s firm grip was finally released, so were a thousand tears- rushing from her face, as if trying to escape the source of the pain. My heart burst and broke at the same time as I witnessed this love in action. She truly loved Isabella, so she truly began to feel the depth of discomfort by letting her go. At this moment, she could not hold back her feelings and we got a much larger glimpse into her world. I felt the urge to immediately place this new and precious treasure into her daddy’s arms so I could comfort my hero.

What does one say? Better yet, what does one say when she can’t communicate in the same language? In this situation, I believe the best communication regardless of the words I chose was sincerity of heart displayed through body language. The only thing I could think to say with my words and gestures was what I wanted to make sure she knew at the height of her pain and our joy. I touched her arm carefully in an attempt to console her, looked into her eyes and said the only thing I could think of:

You are a gift.

“Eres un regalo.”  In those four words, I hoped to communicate that with or without Isabella, you are a selfless and holy and wonderful woman. Bella is a gift and you are a gift. In the eyes of the world you may not look like anything special, but we see your beauty, and it is resounding. You allowed God to make something good and beautiful out of a bad situation. Your sacrifice does not go unnoticed. You may know Christ or may not, but you were Christ in the sacrifices you made. You made a decision every day to put yourself second and another human being first. You might have felt desolation upon viewing that positive pregnancy test, but you have turned that situation into a gift, and that action is bearing fruit! You have loved. You did this despite the emotional and physical toll you experience(d) daily; despite the unknown; despite the loneliness; despite the poor decisions and dissappointments; despite the pain. You looked beyond yourself. How often do we feel unimportant or that we have nothing to offer others or the world? How often do we expect more from the world? We can always offer ourselves and it is from that offering that God produces fruit. Love is a verb. That verb can feel big or it can feel small. It can feel painful or joyful. It can even feel counter-cultural, but it is always the best choice to make.

The struggle for a birthmother rarely, if ever, magically ceases after the placement of her child. Clare continued to have physical and emotional complications well after Bella’s birth, and we must not lose sight of that. We continued to communicate via text, offering prayers and assuring her of Bella’s well-being, because we wanted to do everything we could to help her feel supported and remembered. I looked forward to these moments as being our best opportunity to make sure she felt loved and appreciated by us because we no longer had anything to receive from her. I hope that wherever she is now, she feels as much consolation and peace as the love she has lived out.

Two women exist with a deep desire for a child, making the choice to love a child- one lying down and one standing up, both fighting a battle. Both will surely reap the reward. Adoption is a beautiful alternative to terminating a pregnancy, and in our loving communication and encouragement to choose that option, it will be helpful to understand that just like it is not so simple for infertile couples to “just” adopt, it may also not be so simple for birthmothers to “just” put a baby up for adoption. The better awareness we have of others’ hardships, the better we can empathize and love each other into making the right decisions, regardless of how hard the right decisions are. Please pray for birthmothers.

 

Dedicated with love and respect to our birthmother,

The Brunos