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This site is dedicated to my daughter Beth

At 15 my Mom died suddenly, and I was left as an only child to be raised by a strict father
At this point in my life I became a housekeeper, cook and companion to my Dad .
My life revolved around the home, and I felt I was being denied the life,
that most of my friends were having at that time.
When I was nineteen my Dad decided to remarry .
Paying him rent for the house I had grew up in, I was allowed to live alone.
I enjoyed a new found freedom, I had my own place, my own money,
I was like any adult! Free to make my own decisions, and free to make mistakes.
And mistakes I made!

Believing that I was loved ,I gave my heart and my body to my boyfriend .
In retrospect it should have been no surprise when I found out I was pregnant.
having used no protection, and having plenty of time to have sex.
Upon telling my boyfriend that I was pregnant,
I found he wanted nothing to do with me .
Claimed the child wasn’t his and joined the Navy, leaving me alone.
Fearing the wrath of my father, I called an older cousin that had been like a Mom to me,
Explaining the situation, I asked her if she would come with me when I told Dad.
With my cousin by my side I told Dad the news,
as I expected, he pretty much disowned me.
I was told to go out of town, and have the child there, and give it up for adoption.
At that time there was no societal glorification of being a single mother,
and having a child out of wedlock.
Instead it was something everyone tried to hide,
and keep hush hush.

So off I went to live with my cousin in another city.
All along the way I was always trying to find a way to keep the child that was now living inside me.
Each idea would bring another no from those around me, and in time I came to realize
that I needed to think of what was best for my child, and not what I wanted.
I made all the necessary arrangements to make sure my baby would have parents,
a home, and all the things that I would not be able to give as a single parent.
Nine months passed with me feeling the life inside of me, I would talk and sing,
to my baby. And many nights cry myself to sleep, knowing that soon my child would
belong to someone else, sometimes life seemed so unfair.
The little kicks and movements were there reminding me
the days we getting shorter till
my child would leave my womb and enter this world.
Then in the middle of the night it was time. A long hard labor was followed by the
miracle of birth and I was told I had a beautiful healthy girl!
I was not allowed to hold her right away,
but was stitched up and taken to a room with other young mothers.
For what seemed to be an eternity I waited until my daughter was given to me.
I counted her little fingers and toes, making sure they were all there,
and marveled at her beauty. To this day I remember the joy I felt, and the sadness
as I told her how she came to be, and why I had to let her go.
I kept calling her my sweetie.
Telling her how much I loved her, I tried to remember every detail about her
and store it forever in my mind, then all to soon they were there to take my sweetie from me.

I was heartbroken and cried like I would never stop, but time has a way of healing
and eventually the tears dried, but I would never forget my baby.
I was told my child was to be raised by a man who was a fireman and that she was going
to a good home. I was also told the records would be sealed
and had to promise that I would never attempt to find her.
My heart was broken, part of me was gone forever. I moved back to my home town,
but I never moved away from the memories of my child that I loved so dearly.
I longed to hold her, to tell her how I loved her. I wanted to know how she was,
was she happy, what were her hobbies, did she know that she was adopted, how was her life.
More years passed and on each birthday, March 15th all the more thoughts would pour into my head,
how is she doing in school, was she going to the prom, did she drive yet,
who does she look like, is she married, does she have her own children.
Mothers Days were especially hard, knowing I had another daughter out there,
someone who didn’t know the reason she had been given up for adoption,
a daughter I had wanted to keep but couldn’t.
Did she know anything of me? Did she hate me for what I had done?
I ached in my heart for her, praying that God might bring us together someday,
I knew it would take a miracle, as I had promised to never try and find her.
But miracles can happen, and I believe in miracles.
God answers prayers.

My father had recently passed away, and I was receiving his mail at my home until I could notify
all the charities he gave to, and all the businesses he had dealings with
of his passing. It was at this time I noticed a letter
from the adoption center that had handled my baby's adoption.
It had been mailed to my fathers address, but in my maiden name.
I was about to throw the letter away when something stopped me.
I believe that something was God.
The agency was asking for updated information on me!
I prayed to God that it was because my daughter was seeking me.
I made the call to the agency, and the woman on the other end said,
"Your daughter is trying to reach you
do you want contact with her?"
If I was to agree, papers would be signed and we could be reunited.
Tears streamed down my face, and joy filled my heart,
my sweetie I would know again.
Letters soon followed, with lots of pictures, from each of us,
and then a phone call would let me hear her voice,
a voice I had only heard as cries so many years ago.

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