Sit on my Lap - by Suz

Bobby had been there for a few minutes, maybe even an hour when we decided to take pictures. If I recall correctly, I took a few of Hiedi and Bobby first, the server took the few of the three of us and then Hiedi took one of Bobby and me.

No bigee, right? Well, for me, it kinda was.

I had this weird feeling come over me at that time and I told Bobby, a 37 yo woman, to sit on my lap!! I really wanted her to sit there. I practically demanded it. Anyone who knows me well knows I am not a physical person. I have real issues with physical boundaries and generally don't like being hugged, kissed, or touched. I like to maintain a certain distance around me and my fellow man.

But when it came to taking a picture of me and Bobby I said sit on my lap?? Where did THAT come from? She chuckled for a brief second but she did – not once -- but twice!

This stayed with me for days. It was so off, so not me. But the feeling of awesome curly haired 37 yo Bobby sitting on my lap (okay, my right thigh) is still with me.

On Bobbys arrival to the hotel, she and I hugged and cried. She kept looking at me and said "you are like my mom…". I have come to believe that somehow, in some parallel universe, Bobby mother was asking me/working through me to have her sit on my lap. Her mom wanted Bobby to sit on her lap. Equally so, as an adoptee, even one only two years younger than me, I wanted my daughter to sit on my lap. Yeah, sure, outwardly it was me and Bobby. Internally, on some spiritual level it was me and my daughter and Bobby and her natural mom.

Thanks Bobby.

My Name and a Ring - by Bobby

I am so excited right now that I can hardly make the words I want to
say make any sense.

Let me take a deep breath and try to share this with all of you.

For those that will know this next part, please bare with me and for those that don't, I left my adopted name behind and took my parent's names for my own. I took my dad's first name, my mom's middle name, and my husband's last name. To make a long story short, my husband has never been thrilled that I refuse to go by my adopted name and we have had some down right ugly battles over it.

Now for the new information. My husband and I have started really talking about my adoption and how it has played a huge part in our marriage and why I decided to let go of my adopted name and how important it was to me for him to acknowlege me as Bobby. Well, something I said began to sink in and he has slowly started to call me, BOBBY! This is a huge step for him.

Now any adoptee will tell you how important their heritage is to them. My aparents have always told me that I was of Swedish heritage, but when I was reunited with my brother, he said that we were Irish and English. English from our dad and Irish from our mom. Chicago south side Irish to be exact. I was instantly proud of this and have been researching Irish and English history every since.

Well, today my husband left me speechless and in tears. I have been feeling kind of in the dumps lately because my parent's birthdays are in November, so to try to kick the dark mood, I got all the Chistmas stuff out today. I thought a little early Christmas spirit would
cheer me up. My husband saw the mood I was in and said, "We need to talk." Most of the time when he says this, he is pissed off about something. So, I sat down at the kitchen table. He said, "Give me your wedding ring." I said, "Hell no!" He said, "Would you just give me your ring." So, I handed him my ring. Then he placed a black box on the table and said, "Open it." So, I did and my mouth fell to the floor. Inside the box was an IRISH WEDDING RING!" He said, "Take it
out and read it." Engraved on the inside of the ring, it read, "Bobby, I love you." I just started crying. He said that he was going to wait and give it to me for Christmas, but he saw I was
starting to become depressed.

The Topic of Searching by Kristen

In the state of Illinois the legal age to search for birth relatives is 21. If you are not 21 you need your legal guardians/parents permission to search. Until this past January 4th I was not considered legally old enough to start a search for my birthmother/family through legal channels. I was adopted as an infant. I don’t remember a time that I didn’t know I was adopted. Searching never crossed my mind until I got the letters from my birthmother. The letters were date in January 1984. It was the first glimpse I was given of the woman who gave birth to me. I was loved. I was wanted. But I was given to a couple who raised me and gave me the world.
Before finding the letters that my birthmother wrote to me she was just a woman who accidentally got pregnant and cared enough to have a baby rather than have an abortion. This woman was young but chose to go through the pregnancy. She relinquished me to the Adoption Agency- Easter House. That was where the story ended. I was happy and content in my life. I did think about this woman from time to time but I wasn’t obsessively thinking about it. Adoption was just another facet of me.

The letters I received changed my perception of my natural mother. The letters and her selfless message changed my life. My natural mother isnt just some woman, she gave birth to me. She cared enough to carry me around for nine months and do what she thought was best for me, even though that meant giving me up. I hate the idea that Iwas abandoned. I feel like there is a difference between abandoned and given up or surrendered. The word abandoned to me reeks of being left out on someone’s doorstep and hoping for the best. I was given to a responsible loving couple, not left on their doorstep. Although it different it feels the same way. I felt unwanted even though I hadsolid proof I was loved and wanted. Over 21 years Ive grown up and come to understand that there is no nature or nurture debate, it’s a combination of both. I am a combination of my genetics and my nurturing family.

A simple selfless letter filled with love has driven me to search for my roots. I need something less abstract that words on paper to really know the truth. I knew, as I gazed deeply at these letters that I had to search. It became something that was a vague distant thought to a deeply driven, burning need. I knew, however, that it would not be easy.
As I stared at the letters, the handwriting, which was so very much like my own seemed like it was staring back at me. It was so dreamlike I was there but so many thoughts were going through my head that the physical world became somewhat separated from my thoughts. Alone with my thoughts I realized many things.

I wanted so very much to share my needs and my journey with my adoptive parents but I could never tell if they would be supportive of me or not. We never really talked about adoption beyond them spitting out some basic facts here or there. When I asked them questions I was never asking because they were not doing a good job parenting. I wasasking because I wanted to know my beginning. Sadly the parents who raised me are not the parents who were there at the beginning so there is a great deal of loss for all of us. They didn’t get to give birth to me and I didn’t know who had given birth to me. I feared hurting them not realizing that my need to search was about me and not them.

In reality searching isn’t a reflection of their parenting and by searching or not searching nothing was going to change the fact that they adopted me and could not have given birth to me themselves. I thought some more.

Next into my mind was having children of my own and the ”what ifs” What if I had some disease or bad genes or something else that I could pass onto my children? What if I couldn’t get pregnant? What if inherited something horrible that was going to kill me in an untimely manner? It was amazing to me that there were these endless, unanswerable possibilities because I was adopted. I thought maybe I would just not have children, no risks then. I don’t want to not raise a family. Again I realized how badly I needed to search.

I moved onto thinking of the family traditions that I had. I was raised Polish but my ancestral roots were Irish. My traditions don’t match my roots and my children would not be Polish because I was adopted they would be Irish. The law says I am Polish but my blood says you are an Irish Lass who doesn’t know the first thing about being Irish. This is not to say that the traditions I celebrated all my life weren’t important. I can celebrate both traditions but only if I knew about both. I felt a great deal of guilt as if I was turning my back on my adoptive family. I also realized that guilt was a pretty useless emotion, especially considering that I was not throwing traditions away I was adding to them so that they fitted the person that I was born as. While I want my family to realize it is not a rejection of them, I am not them and I do not take responsibility for the things that they feel about my actions. I am only responsible for my actions.

I thought about just going ahead and searching. I do not need to tell my parents I am a legal adult. I did, however, value the truth and honesty so highly that I felt it was important to tell them what I felt I needed. I have never liked that the adoption system has felt the need to keep my heritage a secret from me and since two rights dont make a wrong I knew that it was important to be truthful, at least for my personal journey. I dont think all adoptees should be required to tell their adoptive parents, after all we adoptees grow up and as adults our choices are our own just like any non adopted adult.

Why ask permission as a child would?

I realized that by feeling the need to talk to my parents that it was not solely about honesty and truth. It was also about needing some form of support. I needed to be understood and I needed to have my thoughts and feelings validated. I began reading and talking to adoptees online. I did not build up the courage to tell my adoptive mother I wanted to search. I just followed my gut. My gut was driven to go ahead and search, so I began without my adoptive parents support.
After I started to search I found that I was not fearless. I was terrified that my first mother was dead or dying. I have had so many people get sick and/or die since I was a young child. I know how fleeting life can really be. I thought what if something horriblehappened to them? I realize that asking unanswerable questions was really a block in moving forward and tried not to dwell on those what if questions. I also though that maybe I really wasn’t wanted even with the letters I had. I thought maybe they would not want to be found. I couldn’t think about an ideal reunion when the possibilities seemed to be so endless in terms of what might happen if I was able to make contact. I thought about my first mother with other children who replaced me and never knew they had an older sister. On one hand I felt that this woman, whoever she was owed me an explanation but on the flip side I didnt want to be made to feel like I was intruding.Walking into another familys life has big implications and opens up a world of issues. Issues that are not affecting just me and my parents but possibly my first parents, their other children and maybe even their extended family as well as my extended family. I felt overwhelmed but I put my names on the online registries anyway. I figured hey, if she wants to find me, she could do it with that, no responsibility on my part.

I’ve talked to many first mothers, not a single one did not want her child. The ones I have met are totally willing and hoping to find their child or be found by their child. This is not to say that there are no first mothers who feel so much shame and guilt that they refuse contact. I know of a few, who out of fear and terror refuse contact, but even those mothers are not rejecting their children. The refusal has always been about deep rooted fear, guilt and shame over what happened never about the adoptee.

Most young children daydream about having another mother when they are in trouble or have done something wrong. For me, as an adoptee, at those times I was daydreaming of a person that was abstractly real. I differed from my non-adopted peers. I imagined my first mother so many times an artist, a princess, the Queen of France, always an idealization of a person, perfect and beautiful in every way. I realize that while daydreaming is healthy and normal that no person is perfect. I also did the reverse, imagining a hag or a bag lady or someone with a very low mental capacity. I was excited and terrified at the same time. I figured not to have any real expectations would bebest and that if I could be reunited I would be meeting a real person not something or someone I dreamt up.

I moved onto thinking about my name. For 21 years I had one name. I have had the name my adoptive family gave to me. My name is not the name my first family would have called me by. I would be meeting someone who knew of me by another name. I am touchy about my name. I correct people constantly to get it right. It’s MINE, I like it and I define myself by it. Having two names from two families is strange. For 21 years my first family has referred to me by one name and I have called myself by another. Until I found the letters I was unaware of there ever being a name before the one I have always known. The name issue has bothered me since I found the letters and it still bothers me.

I have always known I was adopted. My parents did a good job of helping me to understand that I was loved and wanted by them but the unanswered questions about my past were pervasive. The questions were not something that cropped up once in a blue moon, no they were always there, lurking around every corner, everyday. I cant say I have never felt angry at having been surrendered. I am grateful I was given life.I would rather live with the pains and sufferings of life than to never have lived. I had minimized what she did for me until just recently. For almost 20 years she was just some woman who accidentally got pregnant and had a baby (who is me). That baby needed a good family so I was given one. It was that simple to me for a long while. My family was very good to me. I had no reason to hate anyone or to search for something more. I realize as I get older that this woman who happened to accidentally have a child was brave to give birth and carry me around for nine months. She very easily could have had anabortion but she didnt. She cared enough to give me life and the best should could to find a good life for me. She had enough love in her to walk around pregnant for nine months even though society looks down upon unmarried women and teen mothers. She was able to deal with the labels society placed on her for my sake not her own. Something about that makes a person question, if this mother did all of that then howcould she not want me, how could she give me up, how could she put me down in the hospital that day. I thought that given the letters I received that something else had to have gone on. My first mother said very clearly “do not ever believe that you were unwanted or that I didnt love you. You are loved and I wanted you”

Some adoptees never question their families. Searching is a deeply personal choice. I know I need to know as much as I can about my history and my heritage. There are many roadblocks from both sides for me as an adoptee. I hate seeing people in pain or hurting and feeling as though I am the cause of someones pain hurts me back. It is often very difficult to look at the adoption triad and stand up for what I need. I feel like adoptees often worry more about their parents adoptive and biological more than their own needs. It isnt any member of the triads fault that this is difficult for all of us.

There is always the possibility that first families and adoptees are searching for each other but that the two paths have not converged. The legal system makes searching in states with closed records very difficult. Most states do not open records to adult adoptees. There are very few options for adoptees who are searching to locate theirfamilies. Online registries and state registries only work if both parties are searching for each other. Adoption agencies often become unhelpful after the adoption is finalized. Private investigators can become quite costly and none of these can guarantee results.

There are many problems today with the adoption system. As human beings any system we create is our best attempt effort at it. It is not perfect. Closed adoptions are just harmful. Open adoptions and adoptions from foster care a different. What would the world be like if there was no adoption?

There are contraceptives today. They are more readily available but not always easy for people to get, and there is not always a perfect system for educating women and men about their options. There are not any good options for young, teen mothers who can’t care for children alone, not in America that is. The system still pushes them to either abort a fetus or surrender their children at birth. The number of families who can’t have children but desperately want them greatly outnumber the babies who need families, 100 to 1. The number of older children stuck in the foster system outnumbers the families willing to take them in as their own, 134,000 to very few. The situation is a sad reality. Our best attempt system is not working completely for us. Adult adoptees have no legal access to their birth certificate and other records in most states. Updated medical information is difficult to obtain because so many of the records are sealed for 99 years after the adoption is completed. By the time 99 years goes by I would be at least 101 years old and my first family would mostly be long dead. At that point the medical information is gone and useless. Medical information that was provided at birth is not always useful. When young women have babies at 16 or even in their early twenties the medical problem that run in their families may not have become prominent for them. Medical issues crop up later on in life and adoptees are often kept unaware of their current family medical information.

I need my medical information. I need my heritage. I want to know that I look or don’t look like someone out there, even if its really scary. I want to know about the events prior to my birth and those leading up to it. I have an incomplete narrative story of my life. I want to complete it as much as I can. While I am concerned for my adoptive and first families I am more concerned with me, my future and my future family.

An Amazing Adoptive Mom Story

Maureen is an adoptive mom. She adopted her daughter via Friends of Children and Birth Hope. She is, without question, truly amazing. We need more adoptive mom's like Maureen. This is her story as told by her. - Suz

A Happy Adoptive Mom’s Story!

Were do I start? Lets go back to when I was a young girl with the dreams of being a mom, wanting at least five little one’s running around. Well, that dream wasn't to be. I was able to conceive, but couldn't hold my babies more than ten weeks, continuing to miscarriage. Then in 1985 a miracle happened, I was blessed and became a mom to a very ‘special angel’, my daughter, Tara-ann.

The moment I held this beautiful, tiny little life in my arms I knew there was a terrific, yet very sad woman out there somewhere hurting badly, still loving her child. Here we were, two different woman, two different situations, living miles apart and both loving the same beautiful child.

My intentions from the start was to be open and honest, telling this little one the truth and all I knew of her birth mom and by God I stuck to my word. If it were possible, I would have kept this wonderful woman up to date, letting her know that her child was safe, happy and healthy. Unfortunately, we know that situations like this are very rare.

When my daughter was starting to understand things, I decided to go to the library and get a few books explaining adoption, wanting to make sure that I did it correctly. Well, I found a couple that described it all for a toddler; stories with crayoned pictures of the birth mom and dad, the adoptive mom and dad and the adoptive child. She loved hearing these stories and asked little questions here and there, that I did my best to answer. She would always ask: ‘Mommy, would you read me the story about my ‘BIRCH’ mom again. Needless to say, I died laughing each and every time she used the word birch, doing my best to explain that birch was the name of a tree and the right word was ‘BIRTH’ - she got it eventually.

Skipping past the years, last October she came in with the mail, handed me a bunch and put an envelope on the table. She said probably junk, since it had no return address and I continued sorting the mail. Well, from out of nowhere I heard this horrible GASP - turning to see this child shaking and completely hysterical. Just imagine what it does to you, seeing your child shaking like the last leaf on a tree!


She handed me the letter and I read part of the first sentence: ‘I am a birth mom trying to’ - I put it down, reached out my arms and said come here you. I held this upset, shaking young girl securely in my arms. Consoling and assuring her that I was still her mom and dad was still her dad - that nothing’s changed;while reminding her she knew this day could come. Also reminding her as I have for years, that this woman has always loved her and just wanted to know if she was all right. Plus, I let her know that this was up to her and her alone. That it was her decision, if she didn't want to pursue it further, then it was done and over with. Because Tara-ann has always known how much I wanted this day to come, I was confident in telling her that I would check it out and make sure that this was indeed her birth mom, which she was fine with.

After finally calming her down, she smiled, hugged and thanked me, then got up to go into her room. I returned to read the balance of the letter when I heard her say: ‘AGHH CRAP, I hope she doesn't need an freak-en organ!’ Not knowing if she actually thought that, I really had to read face good. Seeing she was all right and just joking, I told her she was nuts and we both laughed.

Having information I should NOT have gotten (stupid agency's fault) I contacted this woman, who I have known for years as Deborah. Wanting to be absolutely sure, I asked a few questions of my own. With the information I had, I was able to confirm without any doubts whatsoever, that she was indeed my daughter’s birth mom.

Upon letting Deb know, that is after the poor woman regained her strength after falling apart with the joy of learning she had actually located her first born, we started communication thru the Internet. I sent Deb Tara-ann’s high school graduation picture and told her a little about my husband Joe and myself, (I'm Maureen by the way), plus little stories of Tara-ann's life.
All the while my nosey daughter's reading over my shoulder each and every word we were typing. After a short time I started feeling kind of snobbish referring to her as ‘MY’ daughter. I consider myself to be an intelligent person and know by law that Tara-ann is 'MY' daughter, yet I've never tried to live in a fairly land and know I didn't give this child life, Deb did. So, I decided from then on instead of referring to her as ‘MY’ daughter, I would say ‘OUR’ daughter, as she is and always will be.

Within a few weeks, she got up the courage and started emailing Deb herself. Realizing she now has another wonderful, loving and somewhat nutty mom, plus two younger siblings, Krystyna and Erik. Plus, being thrilled that she was the older sister, everything was going along smoothly, that we had even started making plans to meet.

During one conversation, Deb mentioned that ‘Wendy’s Restaurant’ was having a promotion
that was ending soon; if you collected enough coupons from the sides of their soda cups, you would receive free round trip airline tickets. Now, your not going to believe what happened next, I am still having trouble myself. I want it known that I am NOT the type of person that goes through the garbage, nor do I want anything from it either. My husband Joe, on the other hand feels it’s a treasure hunt and loves rummaging thru dumpster's and trash – YUK!

Well, here I go, dragging the ‘Dumpster King’ (as I've named him) along, first stopping to speak with the manager to get permission, not wanting to get arrested for going thru their garbage. I'd say we went thru the dumpster's for three nights - in the middle of dead winter - here I was DUMPSTER DIVING! We must have gone thru hundreds of half-eaten hamburgers, left-over salads and ice cold sodas, while freezing our hands and butt’s off; but in the end it was all well worth it. We were able to collect enough coupons for five free round trip tickets for Deb and her family to use.

As I said before, things were going so smoothly, too smoothly in fact, that both Deb and I were getting a bit concerned. You know when things go too fast, too soon! Well our feelings were correct, out of the blue Tara-ann completely shut down and backed away. Everything was at a stand still and till today, I really don't know what happened, nor why.

Being totally confused and not knowing what to do, I contact Suz. What a truly wonderful person she is, she helped us more than she'll ever know. She advised me that this was a normal reaction from an adoptee, that they just get too overwhelmed and shut down. She advised me to just let it go and give her time to absorb it all, hopefully everything would turn itself back around. She was right!

One night, very nonchalantly I said: ‘Hey, what’s about meeting with your birth mom Deb?’ All I heard was ‘OK!’ Talk about almost falling out of a chair, I had all to do to keep myself from screaming and running around the house like a loon. Somehow, I managed to stay calm and said: ‘OK, then pick a date and let’s see if we can get it together.’ Meanwhile, I was inwardly exploding with excitement and emotions. I was dying inside, waiting till I could contact Deb privately and explain what transformed on my end. Again, Deb was overwhelmed, shaking and crying with excitement, yet did her best to control her emotions, I'm not sure if she handed. or threw the phone at her husband. Shortly afterwards she received an email from Tara-ann, whichconfirmed her decision and then started making plans on her end.

Now everyone knows when you want something so badly and have to wait forever for it to happen, it never runs smooth. Well, I have been wanting and wishing for this day for nearly twenty-one years. Finally being able to meet this unselfish and loving woman. To actually be able to tell her face to face, just how much we appreciated her decision to give life to this beautiful child and hopefully, be able to join our families together as one. Everything's in place, their due to arrive on July 19th and what happens? Just three days earlier, we're in a complete and total blackout, in the middle of a heat wave to boot! Aghhhhhh

Regardless of the circumstances, things could not have gone any better. Just to see the joy and curiosity in young girls eyes - sitting right next to the woman who had given her life - and that woman soaking in all of her first born, tore my heart in half. I have never in my life been so proud, just being able to be a part of this wonderful and special day. The next day Suz drove down from her home to meet all of us - her and Deb had never met either. I can't put into words how I feel about this woman; she IS a nut - that's for sure, but the love she has within her, pours out to all she touches.

Now, one would think that was enough, right? Nope! There's more .. Deb few in again, this time to celebrate Tara-ann's twenty-first birthday. It’s was a double celebration, their FIRST birthday together! Deb stayed with us this trip and Tara-ann was so comfortable with everything, that they even shared the same bed. I cannot imagine the joy Deb had to have felt - sleeping along side her first born. As we all know turning twenty-one is a very special time in our lives, but for Tara-ann, this was an extra special one - she had both of her Mom’s celebrating with her.

We are planning a trip in May of next year, attending her sister Krystyna’s high school graduation. Not only will Tara-ann be able to get to know her sister and brother better, she will be meeting the rest of her extended family, her natural Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles and Cousins. Plus, be able to share more time with a very special person, (although I'm not quite sure of the correct title for him) and that's Deb's husband Paul, who's a wonderful, loving and caring stepfather(?) to her. I'm sure we'll come back totally twisted and confused, trying our best to remember who’s who!

I wish with all my heart that other adoptive parents could had a small percentage of the confidence I've had and know that the love they've given to their child will never go away and sharing that love with the person who gave them life will only enhance their relationship by joining two families into one. Thus making an adoptee's reunion with their natural parent(s) a wonderful and special time!

For those who are still waiting for your reunion day to come, I pray that your's is as joyous and wonderful as ‘OUR’ beautiful daughter's was. A reunion that will continue on for her entire life.
So, keep hold of your dreams, never-ever let them go .. they DO come true!

Maureen - (nifty50mo at aol dot com)

Conception

"He who profits by a crime commits it” - Seneca

Approximately twenty years and nine months ago today, two young lovers embraced on the shores of a lake in upstate New York. They had spent the day with friends, swimming, camping, talking, laughing.

A stranger would have easily seen the loved they shared. Those that knew them well would see it too but they would also see something else. A tension, something a bit out of sorts.

As the evening wore on, the lovers left the campsite and wandered alone through the woods, towards the lake. They found a tree. They sat beneath the tree. Moonlight reflected off the lake in front of them. Stars, what seemed to be billions of them, shone brightly from the darkened sky above.

The girl knew the boy was anxious to be intimate. Sex.

She was apprehensive. Outside? Here? People might see. And besides….

A kiss. A caress. A warm embrace.

How she loved him! How he loved her! She knew this. She always had. He clung to her like she was one of his vital organs. She could feel his desire. His intensity. He wanted her. Needed her.

But something inside her held back.

They hadn’t been together for sometime. There had been awkwardness in the air today. Unspoken words. An air of confusion, uncertainty.

He pulled her close.

As the passion rose, she watched the stars. Him above her, kissing her, holding her. The stars were exceptionally bright. She had never seen so many stars. It seemed she could reach out and grab a handful. They twinkled magically around his head, above his shoulders.

“Are you still on the pill?”, he asked.

She paused.

“Yes”, she whispered.

They made love beneath the stars that night. The fifth time they had ever had sex. He was content. He held her close even still. Smiling, comfortable, happy, he exhaled deeply. She saw his breath in the cold evening air.

While he rested peacefully, her heart and mind filled with anxiety and guilt.

She had lied to him.

She was not on the pill.

She gambled. She played the odds.

A stranger, an outsider, might be quick to judge her now. Label her. Cast her out. Criticize her.

Yet others might understand.

She needed him. She had to keep him happy. She had to hold onto him. If she was a vital organ sustaining his life, he WAS her life. LIke generations of women before her, she traded sex for love.

He was the only person that loved her. The only person that had ever been nice to her in the eighteen years she had walked the earth. She loved him. Needed him. Could not bear the thought of living life without him in it.

What if she had told him the truth? What if she had denied him the physically intimacy he craved? What would he have done? What would he have said? Would he have been angry? Left her?

Perish the thought.

He might leave. He wanted her. He loved her. No one else did. She could not risk losing him. Denying him sex could put the only love she ever felt in serious jeopardy.

It would be okay, right?

Depends on your point of view.

The girl saw a shooting star that night. Brighter than anything imaginable, it shot across the sky.

The hand of god reaching down from the heavens and right towards her. To her womb.

A child was conceived that night. A child, a baby girl, would be born nearly nine months later over a thousand miles from that lake.

A religious person would judge the girl. She would be cast out for having unprotected sex. For having sex out of wedlock. Her family would be shamed.

But her child would be born.

What is her crime? What is her shame?

Loving the only person that ever loved her? Probably not.

Being too insecure to risk losing that love? Possibly.

Having sex? Depends on your beliefs.

Lying about the birth control? Perhaps.

Seneca says, "Those that profit from the crime commit it". The lovers and the child did not profit. They lost.

Twenty years later, we see the product of that love. A beautiful, brilliant, talented young woman. If the loving act that produced her was a crime, than what is she? If the mother is dirty and full of shame, what is the child?

No. These are not crimes. Love surrounded that child the day she was concieved and has never left her. The lovers, the child have nothing to hide. No reason to feel shame.

Those that took the child from the mother can bear it all.