In May 2002, I said goodbye to a most precious baby girl. I have the best adoptive family in the world for her. I am fortunate to feel the incredible love they have for my baby as well as for me; every few months in my mailbox, I am excited to find new pictures, updates, and sweet reminders that I remain in everyones prayers.

I was not able to give this little girl what she deserved, so I gave her the next best thing. I am proud of the family I have helped create, and of the wonderful gift I was able to give my daughter. My daughter's parents never miss a chance to remind me that I am important to them and that our little girl will always know who I am.

I am currently going to school and working to create a life that would make my daughter proud of me. I have plans to write a book on my experience and hope that it will encourage birthmothers to see the optimistic side of this awesome experience.

Birthmothers: Keep a journal, it is a great release and leaves you with a documented history of your emotional journey.

Adoptive Parents: Make sure your birthparents feel that they are important to you

I am a birth mother and I read your story tonight, From Russia, With Love (Parents Magazine). I just wanted to let you know how much your story touched me. I was covered with goosebumps by the time I was done reading.

I was fortunate enough to pick out and meet the couple who adopted Amanda. I do not know their last names, but meeting them made a world of difference. It was wonderful to read about the other side of an adoption.

The gift of life is such a beautiful and precious gift. The fact that you were open to adopting children who were already toddlers touches me even more. The older a child gets the less likely they are to ever be adopted or be a part of a family.

I hope adoptive couples see your story and open their eyes to adopting older children. I also hope that women who gave their children up for adoption hear your story and are given a sense of peace that their babies are being given a wonderful chance to have the life they so richly deserve.

I am able to exchange pictures and letters with the couple through the adoption agency. I was initially drawn to your web site to find a gift for Amanda's new parents, but have come away with more. Thank you for sharing your story. God bless you and your families.

It was my senior year of high school and my English teacher wanted us to write a letter and address it to ourselves, she would send the letters to us in five years. She wanted us to write a prediction of what and where we would be in five years. I still remember almost every detail of what I wrote and what I wrote was not a prediction. I was sure of what I would be doing. I was going to be somewhere serving in the United States Army, but little did I know that God had other plans.

I graduated from high school in May of 1994 and on August 24, 1994 I shipped off to go to basic training. I just barely made it through basic training and went to what the Army calls AIT (my technical training) in Fort Gordon, Georgia. My training was supposed to last for eight months. In AIT, you again had to pass physical fitness standards that were slightly higher than in basic training. I did wonderfully on everything except for the running. The distance was not my problem, but the speed I had trouble with. If I ran too fast I could not breathe. It was not a medical thing, I just never learned how to do it right. To make a long story short, I tested one last time and did not pass the run. I was sent home with an honorable discharge on June 5, 1995. I was in the Army for a total of nine months and eleven days, a long shot off of the career I had planned to make of it.

I went home and could not shake the feeling of being a failure. So when a man, that I deeply cared for, came to Texas on leave, I left with him, without a word to anyone. I went to Missouri, where his sister and her family lived. Two weeks after being there, he left to go back to Georgia in the Army to his wife and kids. Yes, I knew he was married, but he said he was getting a divorce. When he left, I stayed with his family. I did not have to look at anyone I knew and see what I thought was thought of me as a failure.

Well, I knew that things were not going to work out with me and the Army guy and I knew I needed to start over for myself. Two months after he left, I started work as a nurse's assistant (training to be a Certified Nurses Assistant) at a Nursing Home there in town. I loved the work, but it was not enough to get out on my own, so I took a job as a dishwasher at a local restaurant.

I was really beginning to like it there, except I was lonely and something was missing. An awfully cute man caught my eye and I thought that if I gave to him physically, he would love me and fill that emptiness. Four months later, I found out I was six weeks pregnant and had no idea what was I going to do, but I knew I was not going to raise my child on welfare and this guy, although cute, was not fit to be a daddy. I called my mother and got a bus home to Texas. Now not only had I not made it in the Army, but I was pregnant and not married. So I had to make it right and started looking at adoption.

In March of 1996, I moved into the Edna Gladney Center of Fort Worth, TX and began preparing to let go of the child I was carrying. Weeks later, I found out that I was carrying a girl. What a blessing this will be for someone else, I thought and wondered how I could ever let her go. She was mine.

Once settled into the center, a man, I once knew, and I began dating again and the love grew and grew. All the girls in the dorm dreamed of having a man like I had. We talked a lot about getting married and being together forever. In May of 1996, I moved out of the dorm and moved in with him. I still had every intention of placing the baby to the wonderful adoptive family that I had chosen and met. A couple of months later, I began second guessing my decision and we decided to keep her together. We were married and five days later she joined us in October of 1996.

I started working when she was six weeks old, got my first paycheck and we found that we had less money with me working than without. After looking at what we had we decided, we wanted a change and drove to South Dakota, where my father lived and we left without saying a word to anyone. It was getting close to Christmas and things were not going as planned, times were rougher there than in TX, so we decided that since we had already made the move we needed to make the best of it and start over. Jobs were scarce, but we found work at Subway for minimum wage. With the help of my father, we moved into an apartment in early January. My husband found a better job with a company that paid better at the new Office Max.

On Friday, January 25, 1997, we went to work and the baby to the sitter and when it was time to go home, he was not there to pick me up. I called his job and found out he had quit the day before. I called the baby-sitter and the baby was still there. I got a ride to pick her up and went back to our apartment, he was gone and so was his stuff. My daughter and I were left stranded in South Dakota. I called a lady that I had met at little church called Rimrock Evangelical Church, the Sunday before, and she came over to be with me. The following Sunday, this woman that I had only met once had paid two-thirds and my father one-third of my way to fly my daughter and I back to Texas.

Back in Texas, and not willing to ask my parents for help because I had left twice now with no word, I stayed with my in-laws, who knew he was leaving. Shortly after being there, I found a job and bought a used car. March of 1997, I got approved for my first apartment. I began going to church in an effort to find myself. My husband came to me and apologized. I figured that one time was a mistake so I let him come back.

Things were ok for a little while, but it was starting to get rough again. On Friday, June 6, 1997, I got up to go to work and take the baby to the baby-sitter. My husband had to leave early to go to work. I got to work and found I no longer had access to the building and when I got in I found my extension no longer worked. After about two hours of trying to figure out why all these weird things were happening, I found out. The company was down-sizing, they let go of 180 people that day and I was one of them. I was distraught and tried to call my husband. After several attempts to reach him, his job told me he was coming in late. Late, I thought, he told me he had to go in early. This can't be happening again, I thought. I went and talked to the agency I was working through and there was nothing that they could do. After picking up my daughter, I went home to find the door unlocked and the key on the table and all his stuff gone...again.

I collapsed and stayed with my grandmother through the weekend. Monday, I went to a temporary position and was sent home because I was not needed that day. I was numb and could feel anything. A walking zombie. On the way home, I decided that I would get the oil changed in the car as soon as I got to my side of town, which was forty-five minutes away. Almost home and I began hearing knocking, a WHAM and then smoke. I was now sitting on the side of the road. I tried to call for help and could get none. I waited for five hours there and was finally picked up by my parents.

My sister took me to pick up my daughter and on the way back she told me to stop putting it off and place my daughter for adoption. I told her I would think about it. When she dropped me off at my apartment, there was a note on the door. It was an eviction notice, even after I told them all that had happened. My husband was supposed to pay the rent, but chose not to and the money I had went to the baby-sitter. This time my parents let me stay with them and I called the Gladney Center and placed my daughter in foster care. I left her there for a week, but unable to bear another loss I brought her back home.

For the next three months, I moved a total of nine times, because I did not feel I could stay with my parents with my daughter. I met a lady at the church who was willing to put a little faith in me and help me out. I stayed with her for a week and decided it was time to stop pitying myself and get on with my life. I found a job where I could start over and began work on September 8, 1997. I found that because of my situation I could get emergency assistance and get into government housing. I was determined this time to get back on my feet, for her sake. I was set to move in on September 15th. I called my mom and told what I was doing and asked if I could stay with her for a couple of weeks and she agreed.

I moved into my new home and was working on getting on my feet. I loved my new job and my new home. While in training my husband's best friend told him where I was. He contacted me, but only when he wanted or needed something. It was an emotional rollercoaster, I was not ready to take. My daughter turned one year old in October of 1997 and in November, I lost it. I could not take the rollercoaster anymore and took it out on her. I slapped her hand and turned it bright red and scared myself. She had done nothing except want her mommy's attention. I just had no more to give. I called the Gladney Center and told her that they had to take her before I hurt her.

November 18, 1997, I took her in and signed my rights away, so there was no turning back. I called my husband and told him to do the same because he had already made his choice when he left. Gladney then had to begin the search of her birth father to relinquish his rights and that process would prove to take three and a half months.

The realization hit me on November 20, 1997 and in the most agonizing pain of letting go of the one thing that meant more to me than anything, I spent the night with my husband. Again, I thought if I gave him my body he would stay. I got up that very night and knew I was pregnant again. I just knew. It was confirmed on Christmas Eve of that year. I was devastated again, but I knew that I was going to let this one go, also. By then I figured that my marriage was gone, but could do nothing about it until the baby was born because of a law in Texas that prevents divorce while a woman is pregnant.

Finally in January of 1998, I was allowed to look at some adoptive parent profiles and God directed me to the profile and family that He wanted me to choose. The day after Valentine's Day, Gladney called the prospective adoptive parents and told them that they had been chosen. On February 20th of 1998, I had lunch with them and an hour later carried my daughter down the hall and handed her over to her new parents.

In March, I moved into Gladney and continued to work and meet with my caseworker to deal with my very recent placement and prepare for my next that was rapidly approaching. Three months later, I found out that I was having a girl again. Still working and counseling I trudged on. My husband came and went many times and it was all taking a toll on me, but I was not going to hurt another little girl. In my eighth month of pregnancy, they allowed me to pick the adoptive parents, but my first question was would the adoptive parents that have my first also take this one. So they called them and I got to ask and without hesitation they said YES. They would love to have the sisters together. So in August, she was born and on August 20, 1998, exactly six months to the day she was placed with her sister. It was a glorious day. I knew that I could not have them, because it was not my time, but they could have each other with a family in Arkansas that would love them and care for them as I dreamed of doing.

I cried some with her placement, but nothing like the first. I had refused to allow myself to enjoy my pregnancy or even bond with her. I was determined to stick through with my decision so I shut myself off emotionally. Shelby's birthday and placement date passed without incident, because I was still numb. My emotions caught up with me and when they did they hit me with a vengeance. Depression set in. I was actually called suicidal and they wanted to admit me. Me, suicidal, yeah right. Sure death was better than what I was feeling, but it was not my place to take my life. I was taught that if I took my life that I would spend an eternity in hell and I was already miserable, I did not want to make it worse. So I never followed through with my thoughts. Through some anti-depressants and counseling at Gladney. I was on the mend.

I remarried a wonderful, Godly man who loves the Lord in March of 2000. In June of 2000, I met my Lord and Savior in a way that was not only in my head, but also in my heart and it has continued to grow. In December of 2000, we welcomed our daughter Rebekah into the world. In December of 2004, we moved to Nevada, Missouri for a new job with a wonderful company and have been allowed more time to grow as a family and in the Lord. In February of 2005, we welcomed our son into the world. While we both nearly lost our lives, we are doing well and he has celebrated his 1st birthday.

It is now March of 2006 and has been almost 12 years since I graduated high school and wrote that letter. Who'd have known that when I wrote that letter to myself so many years ago that I would be where I am now. It may have been a rough road, but I can truly say that I have learned a lot. It's funny how when you look back over your life you can so clearly see God's hand in it even before you really knew Him. The blessings are innumerable.

Born into an alcoholic family as the youngest of four girls I had no idea of the abuse that would come to torment my life. Both my mother and father were harsh abusers, my father sexually, my mom physically. How can a young girl possibly grow into a health adolescent when what she knows about life is taught by the hands of a sick man and mother intent to poison? I may not ever understand, but perhaps that is my journey.

My older sister, Cindy became my hero. She fluffed my pajamas in the dryer before bed, sewed my Girl Scout badges on my uniform, comforted me when the kids made fun of my glasses, skinniness, and shyness, and read me bedtime stories. She also became the surrogate mom in our newly formed mini-family. When I was 11 to my surprise and fear, Cindy could take no more of the sexual abuse and told our mom about what had been going on for years, something my mom claimed to know nothing about at the time. I felt so alone as I went to live with my mom and Cindy requested to be sent to a foster home. My other sister, Debbie had already left home by this time and my half-sister, Joy, ran away to live with her biological dad.

I was scared but determined. I was put into a foster home. I had tremendous defensiveness, fear, and walls I built around me like Fort Knox. As the realization set in finally that my own parents didn't want me, I was placed in an emergency shelter where I was to live in between foster homes. I graduated from high school and went to college wanting to be a writer and refusing to let anyone stomp on my dream no matter what I'd been through.

When I was 34, after thinking I couldn't get pregnant, I got a positive pregnancy test. Though extremely tormented I knew I couldn't keep the baby because of living in abject poverty. I had spent my whole life trying to be someone I wasn't, namely someone that knew how to live but I finally broke free by looking at my daughter, MacKenzie, and seeing me. It was then that I smiled inside as I made the connection from my head to my heart for the first time.

"I have given you awesome parents and you re going to have a great life", I told my newborn daughter on Placement Day as I shielded her eyes from the sun. I had always thought of myself as selfish and here I was performing the most selfless act I have ever performed. With all the strength I could muster, with God's grace, there was no choice but to do the right thing.