A Love Carried for 32 Years

Thirty-two years ago today, on October 5, 1994, I gave birth to a baby—and then I gave that baby up for adoption.

Thirty-two years.

There are some dates that pass quietly on a calendar.

And then there are dates your body remembers before your mind even has the chance.

October 5th is one of those dates for me.

I was young. I was making a decision that would change more than one life forever. I believed I was doing what I needed to do for my baby, even though doing it meant leaving the hospital without the child I had carried inside me.

People sometimes use the phrase “gave a baby up” as if it describes one moment.

It doesn’t.

You don’t simply hand over a baby and walk away from the experience.

You carry it.

Through birthdays you may not be part of. Through questions. Through wondering. Through growing older and understanding your younger self in ways you couldn't possibly understand her at the time.

And through love.

Because that is the part I think people sometimes miss.

Adoption can contain gratitude and grief. Hope and loss. Peace and questions. Love can exist right alongside pain.

Thirty-two years later, I don't look back at that young woman from the distance of judgment.

I look at her with understanding.

She was doing something incredibly hard with the life, circumstances, and choices she had in front of her.

And today, I am thinking about the baby I carried.

The baby I delivered.

The baby who turns 32 today.

Wherever life has taken you, you have always been part of my story.

Happy 32nd birthday.

And to the young woman I was on October 5, 1994—

I remember you, too.

I wrote about that decision, and the life that came after it, in my memoir Re-Imagined: Through Time & Love.