Although I consider myself a literate and learned man, I confess that these are the hardest words I have ever written or read in my nearly fifty years of life. I want to tell you about the circumstances of your conception and birth. Since I will not be able to do it in person, this letter will have to suffice.
Were you to have come into your family I would have been your grandfather and you would have been the first female in my lineage in two generations. I am the oldest of six sons and I have two sons. Many are the times I have longed to have a daughter or granddaughter. To see you as I did this week, with tubes and monitors attached to your tiny, not even three pound frame, is to make my arms ache to hold and protect you.
My son and his beautiful girlfriend conceived you out of marriage. As parents we loved the two of them and hoped they might marry, but at ages sixteen and eighteen it seemed unwise. Our children wanted to make the foolish, but understandable choice to abort their unplanned pregnancy without telling us. When their secret was revealed, we parents assisted them for a time, even to the point of taking your birthmother to a nearby town for a procedure. We couldn’t follow through with our sin—it was too painful for us all. Through God’s strength, your parents and the parents of both your birthmother and birthfather chose to see you through birth and adoption.
All of us, for two generations on both sides of the family are Christians. I confess to you, granddaughter, that grace and providence snatched you from the jaws of death. All of us, your birthparents and both sets of grandparents, stood before a church congregation asking for forgiveness and prayers. Your birth is a confirmation that God heard and answered those prayers.
Do you see that before you ever came into this world you were loved and special? You were also early, two months premature to be exact, crying and wiggling, flush with life and defiant of the odds, which are accorded babies like you. All of us wept and said good-bye to you several times.
I want to say a word about your adoptive parents, though I know them mostly from photos and letters. The first time they will see you is when you are in intensive care, pink and fighting for life. In the adoption process, as we looked at numerous portfolios, your parents stood out from them all. The soft love of your mother and the determination of your father, uncles and grandparents tell us that you will be in good hands from now on. What is more, we know you will be raised to know that same grace which gave you life in the first place.
I am giving this letter to an intermediary who is helping handle this adoption. I have told him to let your mother and father read it, and they can show it to you when they feel the time is right. I may be gone from this world when you reach adulthood and want you to know more about why you are the way you are. I cannot tell you who I am, but records will be available to allow you to find out more when the time is right.
I love you with all my heart and soul. Never forget that.
Published by Jewels News, copyright. Sherrie Eldridge. No reprints without permission.