Thirty-six years ago, my husband and I adopted a baby girl and two years later a baby boy. Now, she is the mother of five adorable children and a licensed vocational nurse, working part-time with cancer patients; he is a registered nurse, working with premature babies and in the emergency room of a large hospital.
I ask the Lord's blessings every day for the two mothers, who, with unselfish devotion, carried these children for nine months and then surrendered them to a responsible agency for adoption.
Sometimes I wonder about all the babies who have been killed because of their mothers' greater desire to go to school, or to work, or to Europe. Maybe they would have grown up to be engineers or artists or Presidents, or at least, they would have had a chance to try. Maybe some of them would have solved a few of the world's great problems. Maybe they would have given love to their mothers. Or to adoptive mothers like me.