an openly adopted child’s legacy
Once there were two expectant mothers.
One carried and cared for you beneath her beating heart
She became your Birthmother.
The other carried the hope of you within her.
She became your Mom.
As the days passed, and you grew bigger and stronger,
Your Birthmother knew that she could not give you all you needed after your birth.
Meanwhile, your Mom was ready and waiting for you.
One day your Birthmom and your Mom found each other.
They looked into each other’s eyes and saw a friend.
Your Birthmom saw the life your Mom could give you.
Your Mom saw how much your Birthmom loved and cared for you.
They decided that what you needed was both kinds of love in your life.
So now you have two families,
One by birth, the other by adoption.
And you have a home where you can get:
your questions answered,
your boo boos bandaged,
your heartaches soothed,
And much needed hugs.
And a place where you can find:
answers to your questions,
your image in the mirror,
a part of yourself,
And much needed hugs.
Two different kinds of families
Two different kinds of love
Both a part of you.
© Brenda Romanchik
from god’s arms, to my arms, to yours
So many wrong decisions in my past, I’m not quite sure
If I can ever hope to trust my judgement anymore.
But lately I’ve been thinking,
Cause it’s all I’ve had to do.
And in my heart I feel that I
Should give this child to you.
And maybe, you could tell your baby,
When you love him so, that he’s been loved before, By someone, who delivered your son,
From God’s arms, to my arms, to yours.
If you choose to tell him,
If he wants to know,
How the one who gave him life
Could bear to let him go.
Just tell him there were sleepless nights,
I prayed and paced the floors,
And knew the only peace I’d find,
Was if this child was yours.
And maybe, you could tell your baby,
When you love him so, that he’s been loved before,
By someone, who delivered your son,
From God’s arms, to my arms, to yours.
This may not be the answer,
For another girl like me.
But I’m not on a soapbox,
Saying how we all should be.
I’m just trusting in my feelings,
And I’m trusting God above,
And I’m trusting you can give this baby
Both his mothers’ love.
And maybe, you could tell your baby,
When you love him so, that he’s been loved before,
By someone, who delivered your son,
From God’s arms, to my arms, to yours.
(This poem was based on the writings of a young birth mother, whom she shared with songwriter Michael McClean. It has been set to music and comes with a 100% guarantee that no one who has been involved with adoption in any way will make it all the way through with dry eyes! )
© Michael McLean
legacy of an adopted child
Once there were two women who never knew each other.
One you do not remember, the other you call Mother.
Two different lives shaped to make you one.
One became your guiding star, the other became your sun.
The first one gave you life, and the second taught you to live it.
The first gave you a need for love. The second was there to give it.
One gave you a nationality. The other gave you a name.
One gave you a talent. The other gave you aim.
One gave you emotions. The other calmed your fears.
One saw your first sweet smile. The other dried your tears.
One sought for you a home that she could not provide.
The other prayed for a child and her hope was not denied.
And now you ask me, through your tears,
the age-old question unanswered through the years.
Heredity or environment, which are you a product of?
Neither, my darling. Neither. Just two different kinds of Love.
© Author Unknown
on children
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, “Speak to us of
Children.”
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,
not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you
with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that
is stable.
© Kahlil Gibran
the answer (to an adopted child)
Not flesh of my flesh
Nor bone of my bone,
But still miraculously
My own.
Never forget
For a single minute:
You didn’t grow under my heart
But in it.
© Fleur Conkling Heyliger
Credits: http://poetry.adoption.com/
Thoughts on being a Dad…
I never knew that being a dad could re-invent a man.
Things that were not so, now are. And things as they are,
Are amazing.
Showering: No longer a relaxing experience, but rather an attempt
To smell as sweet as your baby girl.
Shaving: No longer a habit of aesthetics, but a way to make the
Face-to-face cuddling as soft and as gentle as possible.
Eating: Just a way to keep you on your feet and wide-awake.
Sleeping: An insignificant and overrated opportunity.
Smiling: A contagious response to pretty much everything the
Baby girl does.
Crying: Now an uncontrolled display of emotion that you are no
longer
Ashamed or embarrassed about, rather empowered by.
Diapering: A fun three-handed activity, much like installing surround
sound stereo;
Really complicated but well worth the effort of doing it right.
Feeding: A one-handed job that requires a little practice and perfect
timing.
Loving: The most powerful and beautiful of all forces on the face of
the Earth.
Being a Dad is not what I expected. In fact it is more than I could
have ever
Imagined…more than I could have hoped for.
My baby girl has taught me how to live, and really, why I am alive to
begin with.
This little girl has changed me.
My heart no longer beats to keep me alive, it beats for her to live.
My thoughts are no longer clouded because she has cleared the sky.
My feelings are no longer mine to control, but rather, hers to own.
Everything in the world is wrapped up inside this beautiful little girl,
and it is slowly unraveling to reveal to me who I really am.
This poem is from Lew and Rob, who adopted through Forever Families
Through Adoption, Inc.