This guest post is by Amanda, a birthmother and author.
They say in the third trimester babies begin to dream. Dreams filled with the sensation of movement and familiar voices.
My baby knew my voice. The voice of a young girl who found herself in a hard place, who faced a difficult decision.
My dream for my daughter was this: That she would have two loving parents who could provide her with a stable and healthy home life.
Two new voices would fill her dreams. And I suppose mine would be tucked away, somewhere in the back of her mind.
Their voices would be there, constant, steady, and caring. Whispering “goodnight” before tucking her into bed.
Bragging to their family members, “You’ll never guess what she just did.”
She would hear their excited cries, “You can do it!” as she learned to ride a bike for the first time.
Because of them, she wouldn’t have to worry or be confused because of an absent parent.
Because of them, she’s wouldn’t have to go without. Because of them, she would have opportunities I couldn’t provide.
Her dreams would be full of possibility. A fulfilling future where she could explore her passions.
Sometimes, I dream that perhaps one day she will desire to hear my voice again.
But if not, that’s okay. Because she has two loving parents to speak love into her life. To nurture and encourage her. To provide for her, and to teach her important life lessons. To build her up.
Because of me, she hears their voices.
Amanda is a birthmother from Kentucky who moved to England, where she lives with her husband and two children. She is the author of Placing Bets, the story of her experience with adoption and the incredible journey that followed.
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