Dear Birth Mother

Today, Nova will have been with us for as long as she was in the home that cared for her until we became a family.

I think of all we’ve done in the past seven months: How much she’s learned, how close we’ve grown, how many special moments we’ve shared, huddled up close, staring at each other. I think of when she calls me Mama, and how it has changed me. How it does something deep within me. I’m challenged to be better. Better in every way imaginable, because she needs me to be, she deserves it.

And I think of how the way she looks at me has changed from just seeing me, to knowing me; knowing me as her mama, and I can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

No adoption story is the same. Adoption is a kaleidoscope of variables, wrought with difficult choices, desperate people and seemingly impossible circumstances.

Nova's story could have ended, or even started a total different way.

Our adoption story has taught me empathy and understanding. It has taught me to view birth mothers who choose not to raise their children themselves in a different way, and it has challenged me not to measure them all in the same way.

And so,

Dear Birth Mother,

Thank you for choosing us. It is one of the greatest accomplishments of my life: that you would choose me to be her mother.

That you would trust me to comfort her when she is afraid, to do my best to help her when she has her first cold, and her first broken heart.

That you would gift me the title of Mother, that you would give that to me.

Thank you for not throwing her away, for not abandoning her, but for intentionally, painstakingly choosing who would raise the child you birthed. This must have been a heavy weight to bare, it could not have been an easy thing to do.

You've shown me that not all adoption stories have to be filled with shame or grief of dishonour. But that they can be filled with intentional love, with the choice to choose better, to love in absence, to be responsible.

You did not give your child away, you gave her the best you could. And in doing that, you played such a big part in making me a mother.

And when she's looking particularly cute in a fancy dress, or when she shows us just how clever she is, or when she scrunches her nose and looks at me with those big brown beautiful eyes, I sometimes think of you and what you're missing.

I sometimes wonder how much of her is you, and how much of her is me.

I pray she inherited your kindness and selflessness. I know she has somehow inherited so much of my silliness and sense of humour. And from what we can tell so far; she a strong, brave, resilient little girl who includes everyone wherever she is.

I want you to know that I am very aware that I did not rescue her, rather the truth is, that she rescued me.

I want you to know we're doing our best to raise her to be kind, accepting and gentle.

I want you to know that she is a very smart little girl, and that her favourite thing to do is sing and dance with us and play guitar with her daddy.

She has brought a light to our lives in a way that only she can. And, she, in her short time with us, has healed more hearts than you could ever imagine. She has lit a fire in our community, and has shown people that families can look different, but that love is the same.

She is surrounded by an army of people who love and care for her. Strong men and women of all races who show me daily how beautiful it can be to raise a child in this country. Who show me it really does take a village to raise a child. To experience this

has been one of the most treasured things in my life so far.

Because of her, I believe so many families will pursue adoption, and be surprised by their ability to love and be loved in a way they never knew was possible.

I'm so proud to be her mama.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.