"For as thou hast not forgotten the people who now are and those who have passed away, so I remember those who are appointed to come."  
                         --The Apocalypse of Baruch



A Letter to My Son

The following is an edited letter from a mother to her son whom she put up for adoption. She wrote it shortly after his birth and handed it to the adoptive parents to give him when he came of age to understand.

My precious son,

I do not know how you feel toward me and the decision I made about your adoption, but I trust your parents, and they must feel you are ready to know the circumstances of how you came to be. At the time I became pregnant with you, the relationship with my parents was suffering severely because of my negative attitude. I had just turned seventeen.

Eventually, with the greatly needed help of a church leader, I told my parents of the pregnancy, and we proceeded with making plans on what to do. After much counsel and prayer, and after weighing all possibilities, I made the decision to have you and give you up for adoption. Our parents agreed that your father and I were yet too young to marry.

My paernts felt I should live with a foster family in another state until after the birth, and arrangements were made. I now understand the wisdom of their decision, but at the time, I was angry and felt as if I was being "put away" to hide their shame. I did not want to go, and as the time for me to leave drew near, I became desperate to find a way to stay at home.

I had always been strongly opposed to abortion, but with these difficult pressures, I found myself thinking about it occassionally, and even considering it. If I could just remove the presence of the baby, I could move on with my life and everything could go on as it had been. No more problem. No fears. No shame. No facing up to my mistake.

The idea of having an abortion actually started to sound like my solution. I really did not want an abortion, but I was feeling desperate. I knew I had to act quickly as my flight was scheduled to leave within a few days. Each clinic I called was unable to fit me into their schedule until well after flight out of state.

I was emotionally exhausted when I finally hung up the phone. I went into my room, turned off the light, and crawled into bed, where I cried myself to sleep. It has been many years since that night, but I can still remember the dream I had as clearly as if it were yesterday.

In my dream, it was a few weeks before your scheduled delivery date, and I was lying on a table in the doctor's office having an examination. The doctor wanted to make sure that you were growing properly and wanted to take your weight and measurements. He made an incision in my abdomen and carefully removed you from my womb. I watched as he had you weighed and measured. Everthing was just fine, and you were developing normally into a fine, healthy baby. I was enjoying the experience, yet at the same time I was still searching for a way in which I should not have to follow through with the whole ordeal. For a moment, I considered telling the doctor not to put you back into my womb--to stitch me up and just let me walk away.

But at that moment, a wonderful thing happened. You suddenly turned your head and reached out for me, your big eyes glistening with tears. I could not resist the urge to pick you up. As I held you close, you wrapped your tiny arms around my neck with the strength of an adult and would not let me put you down. I could feel your desperation to cling to life, and I knew then that it was a small sacrifice for me to provide that life for you. The doctor and his office slowly faded away, and you and I were left alone, still clinging to each other. . . .

When I awoke the next morning, I told my mother about the dream. I told her that now I knew without a doubt that my child had a right to live--a right to be born into this world and experience the joys, as well as the sorrows, that this life can bring. My sweet son, please believe me when I say how much I love you!

I thought over every possible solution concerning my keeping and raising you myself, but there were just too many factors mounted against it. I know I made the right decision in having you adopted, but it is the hardest thing I have ever done. You were such a beautiful baby, and I loved you so much.

I felt that another couple that was prepared to start a family, but could have none of their own, would be able to provide for you far more adequately than I. With me, your life would start in shame, guilt, sorrow, and without a father to love you as your adoptive father now loves you.

I truly believe that we are , in some way, assigned children in our pre-earth existence. At one point as I deliberated, I wondered if I might be giving up one of my assigned children by placing you up for adoption. But before I reached a conclusion, I had another thought. What happens to the children assigned to a coule who are physically unable to have any of their own? The moment I had that question, it was answered in my mind. The couples adopt them. Each time the child seems to fit so perfectly into the family. I then realized that I was actually carrying a child that had been assigned to another couple. I hope you understand. Even though I am the person who carried you and gave you birth, your mom and dad are actually your true parents.

Though all my wishes are that I could watch you grow up to be a handsome young man, I know deep in my heart that I have done the right thing. I hope someday in the eternities we may meet and share our feelings face to face. I love you son, and always will.

Forever my love,
Mom

(from Coming From the Light, by Sarah Hinze, p. 75-79)



  Sarah and Brent Hinze are continuing to research spiritual communication between parents and unborn children. Those wishing to share PBE stories or obtain more information about the Hinzes' work, may reach them by the following methods:

email:  shinze@juno.com
USPS mail:  P.O. Box 31086, Mesa AZ, 85275-1086 
phone: 480/898-3009


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