The Woman Who Carried Him in Her Belly

And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Colossians 3: 14

“Can I see the picture of the woman who carried me in her belly?” My younger son Dylan surprised me with this question one day while we were in the car running some errands. After attempting to digest the implications of such a request I told him that as soon as we were home, I would look for the picture. “But what if you forget?” He replied with concern…he knows I am prone to forget now and then… “Well, you make sure you remind me, OK?” I said to him, to which he replied with a simple, “OK.”

As surely as Dylan had predicted, I got home and became entangled in a million little things which made me forget his request. As surely as I had known, he reminded me. So together we went to the filing basket where I have kept all the adoption paperwork for the last seven years. I have to admit that I was a bit nervous. Many things went through my head as I searched through the dusty papers and faded manila envelopes. My little boy was putting things together in his mind and the realization that he had not come out of my own belly was becoming more tangible to him. I wondered what he would say once he saw the picture of the woman who had“carried him in her belly.” I wondered what I would say in reply. I prayed for wisdom.

“Here it is!” I said to him when I found the ID-size picture of Dylan’s biological mother. He took the picture in his little hands and stared at it for a long while. The young woman had a sadden expression on her face. My son examined the unfamiliar features carefully and intently. He did not say a word.

After he was done studying the picture, he handed it back to me. I asked him then, “Would you like to meet her some day?” He looked at me a bit puzzle and nodded silently. “Well, when you are a little older, we would go to Guatemala and we will try to find her so you can meet her, OK? Would you like that?” A quiet “yes” came out of his mouth, and I gave him a big hug. He walked away, and soon he went back to his daily routine of playing and torturing his older brother.

I looked at the picture of the woman who had given me the chance to be a mother, and I immediately thought of how thankful I was to her for having chosen life. Her choice made my current happiness possible. That young woman’s decision to keep the baby about eight years ago meant a changed life for us, and for that I would be eternally grateful. It was a sacrifice. The decision to have Dylan to then give him up for adoption was, indeed a hard choice, one that is not made lightly. It was a choice made out of love…sacrificial love.

At that moment I felt bad because I didn't point that out to Dylan. I should have said to him that his biological mother loved him so much that she gave him up so we could raise him since she couldn't have provided for him, and she wanted the best for her little baby. I should have told him that her sacrifice reminded me of Christ sacrifice on the cross…of how He died so we could live…but I didn't. And for that, I felt convicted.

Perhaps, he wasn't ready to grasp such a profound thought. Perhaps that’s just my cop-out. But I do know that the Lord will give me another opportunity to point out this truth to Dylan some other day. And I know that I will be ready then.

Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all. 

(When I Survey the Wondrous Cross)

I'm linking with:  Simply Helping Him, Judith Wholehearted Home