Adoption Poems for ABC
ABC Adoptions is
interested in posting adoption related
stories, personal experiences, art and poetry.
Happy Birthday Baby Girl...
18 years ago was the first time that we met
held you in my arms so tight as I gently wept
I'll never forget the day that you were born
held onto those memories for so long..
how your big beautiful eyes glowed
sweet scent of baby
oh, I never wanted to let
For two whole days you were mine
held you so close and never let you leave my side.
I would whisper in your ear
how much I loved you
and how I would always be near.
were with me always
but even more so on your
December 2nd, the hardest day of the
I imagined you wearing a beautiful little
and flowers tucked behind your
A big birthday cake
A huge bouquet of
balloons and streamers too
I always hoped that
the day had been wonderful for you.
these were happy thoughts about your special day
the loss and heartache I felt never ever went away.
The day of December 2nd always ended the same way
whispering "Happy Birthday baby girl" as I
cried myself to sleep.
Today's your birthday once
Its been 18 years, the times seems to have
gone by so slow
But the past Three months have
changed my whole life
My dreams of finding you
have finally come to light.
It all happened so
fast, so much to take in
All this time the
dividing line between us was so thin.
right across town
we probably crossed paths more
than a few times..
that single bright star that I
probably at some time caught your eye.
So here we are now, our family puzzle complete
I'm so happy that you and your brothers and sisters
were finally able to meet.
I know it seems we
haven't had much time to spend together, one on one
but our journey, I feel, has only begun.
December 2nd but its different from the rest..
all love you so much that words cant express.
so proud of you and what you've become..
beautiful young lady whose smile shows happiness and
My eyes still get wet from memories of the
but today my hope for the future made them
This morning I was able to whisper
Happy Birthday my baby girl..
birthday Kelsie Lyn
I love you!
My name is Elaine Rideau
Tomlin, and I am submitting my poem, Sharing, which
Adoption and is written from a birthmother's point of
view. I was adopted at
age of four. Hope you can find a use for the poem. I'm
told that it has helped many
In the stillness of the morning -
In the hush before the dawn -
A cry screams through the silence -
And a new life has been born.
And she wonders what will happen -
To her newborn baby girl -
How she wishes she could keep her -
And protect her from the "world".
But she knows that there are "others" -
Who would gladly give the world -
To have the chance to hold and love -
Her precious little girl.
And she prays to God for guidance -
As she holds that tiny hand -
With the desperate hope that someday -
Her child will understand.
So she bravely signs the papers -
And the tears fall from her eyes -
As she signs away her baby -
The Light inside her dies.
One last kiss she gives her darling -
For the "others" have now come -
To claim the life she gave them -
Now a family has begun.
And with heavy heart she watches -
As they hold "their" little girl -
How she wishes she could somehow share -
A small part of their world.
But she knows this will not happen -
That for her it cannot be -
And always she will wonder -
About the child she'll never see.
NOW, the Times, they are a'changing -
And a new dawn has begun -
Soon ALL will be together -
Bringing hope to everyone.
Elaine Rideau Tomlin--Adoptee
"For I have promises to keep...and miles to go before I
sleep...and miles to go before I sleep"
Prayer for a Couple Adopting a Child
We have waited for so long
for this child of choice.
with an abundance of your love
that we may be good parents,
that we may create a home of blessing,
that we may encourage this child
to the fullness of his/her potential.
Bless our child, O God.
Give her security in our family,
the joy of laughter in our home,
and the courage to face
the challenges ahead.
Let our child know the love
we feel so deeply for her,
and let this love be a strength
to confront the opportunities of life.
We've added to our family tree, a stronger one to
A child from another plant, has become our new namesake.
Just as a limb is grafted from one tree to another...
It alters and improves the plant, making it uniquely, like no other.
Our family tree has been improved, adoption made this so...
For love, much more than bloodlines, makes us thrive and grow.
We chose to share our life and love, and all the joys to come...
Our "Family Tree" has blossomed, with the arrival of our son.
My Birth Mother
This life she gave unto me was as gentle as the look from upon her face.
Gone far away from me nothing can replace the love we shared. My heart
openly cries for her gentle embrace. For the wind blows across this
place where she lay in eternal grace, all dressed in lace.
Thee Hidden Face
What name is this that she shall be called ? Stay still this spirit that
churns within. Un like no other, no not this past of your. Reach far,
listen and you will hear. This call that stirs the soul like never
before. This passion that cries ever embracing this heart, O where O
where, does this road lead. Come find the one who is lost. For then and
only then shall this knowledge set you free.
Conceal this identity of mine if you may, but know this. You can never
take away this heart that beats ever still.
BY: M.C. Benso
A gift of love, an extension of myself, given to me by God above. A
Mother filled with life you see. An out pouring of love she gave onto
me, a Brother, a Sister, like a reflection in a mirror. A shadow of
light, like the gentle warmth of the sun do I see. A face unto my own
comes, to me.
BY: M. C. Benso
We adopted our daughter through foster care. She is now
five years old, and has been living with us for almost two years! This
poem is for her.
It's been no deep , dark secret.
It's something you've always known.
The mommy who gave you life
Is not the mommy watching you grow.
You've had many different mommies
In your first three years of life,
But little girls need stability
And not days so filled with strife.
You may not know the words
To voice the questions in your mind,
And it breaks my heart because I know
The only answer is time.
I quickly turn my head
And pray that you don't see
The silent tears I try to hide
As you battle insecurities.
As I dry your eyes and hold you close
I whisper in your ear-
I'm your "forever mommy"
And I'm always going to be here.
by Jeff D. Kent
I wonder what it would be like
If I ever did find you.
Would you welcome me?
I know you haven't a clue!
My mother was pregnant at a young age,
She didn't know what to do
I'm hoping that the stories Ive heard
Are somehow going to be untrue.
She's given me your name
And that is all I know.
All I really want to do
Is stop and say Hello!
Did you ever think of me
After you ran that day?
Were you to scared to stay with her?
Or afraid of what others might say?
I forgave you years ago
But I still wonder everyday,
Do you still think of me?
I think as I kneel and pray.
Sharon Molina 2002
You Will Always Be My Mom and Dad
You brought me home at three days old
I was chosen by you, I was always told!
Another woman carried me but gave me up that day,
That other woman thought it would be the only way.
Then you cam along with your arms opened wide
You told me that you loved me and you would be my guide.
You raised me from the start like I was your very own,
If it hadn't been for you and dad I would be all alone.
You taught me so many things everything I know!
You taught me to walk and talk You watched me grow.
I may not be of your genes because you did not carry me.
But there are things stronger then that - love is the key!
You were there through all the years, the good times and the bad
No matter what happens, you will always be, my mom and dad.
I may have found my roots and found something I was looking for.
But I have the two of you and I couldn't ask for more!
By Sharon Molina
When I was a little girl
I would wish upon a star
And I would always wonder
If you were near or very far.
There were so many questions
In which you had the answers to.
So many things
That only you knew.
As I got a little older
Those thoughts faded away
They werent my top priority
I just lived day to day.
Its not that I didnt want to know
Or that I didnt care,
There were other dreams to live
Not dwelling on whats not fair.
I had a wonderful life
And my mom and dad were great.
College and kids of my own
Were other dreams I wanted to create.
I made those dreams happen
Everything had come true.
The only thing missing
Was being able to find you.
I was much older now
And I stopped and looked in the sky
There was another bright star
That stopped me and caught my eye.
I knew I had a dream
And knew what I was looking for
I didn't want much
Just a little bit more.
I made one last wish
And closed my eyes
I just wanted to know
About my family ties.
Now I can say
That my wish has come true.
The wonderful wish
Of finally finding you.
By Sharon Molina
Our now 2 year old daughter's Birth Mom wrote this poem
for her. I have typed it on beautiful paper,
framed it and it hangs in her room. We read it together often and I'd
like to share it with you.
Heart of Mine
I listened to you, Heart of Mine
For nine months of the year
I called you Little Sweetheart
Darling, Dumpling, Angel Dear
I loved you more then life itself
I prayed for you each day
And when you came all pink and warm
I gave my heart away
I couldn't bear to lose you
But I couldn't keep you fed
I couldn't be the Mom you'd need
So I picked one out instead
I trusted her to do for you
What I couldn't do alone
So I kissed your cheek and bid you well
And gave my heart a home
I know that some day you will see
The love that held me tight
To know you had all I could give
And know that I did right
And so I listen still, my Heart
Not nine months but all year
And know you know I Love You so
You're still my Angel Dear
Deb Hampe- Mom to Cylie Elizabeth
In 2 weeks our adoption will be final. I wrote this after running into
an old friend and she asked, "how's life treating you?"
Five more minutes
I don't want to go to bed.
You can wash my hair
But not my head.
I'll be Barbie
you be Ken
Can we watch
Wizard of Oz again?
Mommy I'm hungry,
Mom I need a drink,
She drives me so crazy
I can hardly think.
But then again..
Its wishing on rainbows
And trying to catch clouds
Running in the rain
When its pouring down.
Singing "this little piggy"
And Mother Goose songs
If I didn't Know better
I'd say she does no wrong.
It's blonde curls bouncing
On sun kissed cheeks
And skinned up knees.
It's little sun dresses
And big pink bows
Smiles with dimples
And suntanned toes.
Its watching my troubles
Whenever I hold
My little girl near.
In this great world
So filled with strife
I must admit.....
I love my life.
You and I,
Now and Always
I've always known that you and I were OK with each other.
Like a butterfly, I've felt your thoughts draw near and dart away
through the years.
Ive felt them flutter against my cheek in the darkest moments
and after overcoming great obstacles and battles within my mind.
Yes, they say. That's my girl.
When I think of you, I feel what can only be likened to believing in God
I don't question its why and its how --
I just sit still and quiet in the knowledge that I know you are there
with me some how.
I believe in you in simplest and purest terms.
And I know you believe in me.
Perhaps you told me in conversation we had when we shared the same body.
A conversation that would have to be remembered for an eternity, despite
a fading memory and, at times, a doubtful heart.
Perhaps you told me that you would always love me,
and that your love would never waver -- no matter where we traveled or
who we knew.
Perhaps you said that you would never really leave me, and I would never
really leave you.
Perhaps . . . perhaps . . . perhaps.
Perhaps there will be a time for us,
in place for us, that is far away and not of this life,
but a rainbows distance.
Perhaps I will be the mother, and you will be the child.
And Ill shower you with all you never received.
And well do all the things that we just couldn't get to this time
Maybe . . . maybe . . . maybe.
Until that time, I wish you peace.
Now and always.
Purely and simply.
And know that when your dreams and imagination
are grazed with love and warm smiles . . .
That will be me flying by you.
Contributed by Kim Celli
I wrote the following poem to my oldest daughters
A Birthmothers Love
As I watch my precious child drift off to sleep
My thoughts are with you with love so deep
We prayed that someday a child would come
although we had no idea where she'd be from
You carried her with love beneath your heart
knowing your lives would be lived apart
You searched for parents that could raise her right
to love her, read to her and kiss her good-night
When we first met there was such a connection
you choose us to parent with little hesitation
Delivery day came and with that a beautiful daughter
and we want her to know the Love of her Birth Mother
A part of her life we asked you to stay
so she could know you and your loving way
For if it weren't for your Love and unselfishness
This bright little child's life we would have missed
God blessed us beyond our wildest dream's
a child, our family and You!
Written by: Shelia Davis
My sweet little angel
We didn't even know your name
When we first learned about you
But we loved you just the same.
We prayed and we dreamed
Of the day when we would meet
The special little person
Who would make our life complete.
That we were brought together
Is an answer from above
You needed someone to care for you
We needed someone to love
The road that you have walked alone
Is now part of your past
So rest assured my angel,
You are safe at home at last.
I wrote this one night after I couldn't sleep with all the stress that
adopting can bring.
THIS IS THE JOURNEY YOU MUST UNDERTAKE. YOUR DESTINATION IS UNKNOWN; ALL
THAT YOU DO KNOW IS THAT THERE IS A GREAT TREASURE AT THE END OF IT;
IT'S WORTH BEYOND ALL COST; A JEWEL SO PRICELESS THAT ALL YOU ENDURE,
ALL THAT YOU SUFFER, ALL THAT YOU HOPE FOR WILL BE MORE THAN WORTH IT.
IN SOME WAYS MAYBE IT'S GOOD NOT TO KNOW THE FUTURE; FOR EVEN THOUGH
THERE IS AN AWARENESS THAT THINGS CAN AND DO GO WRONG, YOU KEEP ON
GOING. FRIENDS AND FAMILY ENCOURAGE YOU, BUT EVEN IN THEIR CARING IT IS
NOT ENOUGH. FOR NO-ONE UNDERSTANDS THIS CALL OF YOUR SOUL.
PERHAPS THIS IS WHAT MAKES HUMANITY IN ALL IT'S FRAIL AND THOUGHTLESS
WAYS SHINE WITH GREATNESS. FOR THE ONE THING THAT KEEPS BEAUTY IN OUR
WORLD, THAT BUILDS GREAT MONUMENTS AND ENDEAVORS, THAT OPENS EYES AND
HEARTS AND SOULS TO ALL THAT IS THE VERY HIGHEST AIM OF HUMANITY; AND
YES, EVEN YOU ON YOUR JOURNEY; IS LOVE.
Submitted by Marla McConnell B.C. CANADA
FOLLOW YOUR DREAMS
If while pursuing distant dreams
Your bright hopes turn to gray,
Don't wait for reassuring words
Or hands to lead the way.
For seldom will you find a soul
With dreams the same as yours,
Not often will another help you
Pass through untried doors.
If inner forces urge you
To take a course unknown,
Be ready to go all the way,
Yes, all the way alone.
That's not to say you shouldn't
Draw lessons from the best;
Just don't depend on lauding words
To spur you on your quest.
Find confidence within your heart
And let it be your guide.
Strive ever harder toward your dreams
And they won't be denied.
--Bruce B. Wilmer
An Adoption Song
So many wrong decisions, in my past I'm not quite sure,
if I can ever hope to trust my judgment anymore.
But lately I've been thinking, cause it's all I've had to do,
and in my heart I feel that I should give this child to you.
And maybe you can tell your baby,
when you love him so, that he's been loved before
by someone who delivered your son,
from God's arms, to my arms to yours.
If you choose to tell him,
and if he wants to know,
how the one who gave him life could bear to let him go.
Just tell him there were sleepless nights I prayed and paced the floors,
and knew the only peace I'd find is if this child was yours.
Now I know that you don't have to do this,
but could you kiss him once for me,
the first time that he ties his shoes or falls and skins his knee.
And could you hold him twice as long when he makes his mistakes
and tell him that he's not alone, sometimes that's all it takes.
I know how much he'll ache.
This may not be the answer for another girl like me,
but I'm not on a soap box saying how we all should be.
I'm just trusting in my feelings, and I'm trusting God above,
and I'm trusting you can give this baby both his mothers' love.
Song by Michael McLean
The Legacy of a Child in an Open Adoption
Once there were two expectant mothers. One carried and cared for you
beneath her beating heart. She became your Birthmother.
The other carried the hope of you within her,
She became your Mom.
As the days passed, and you grew bigger and stronger, Your Birthmother
knew that she could not give you all she needed after your birth.
Meanwhile, your Mom was ready and waiting for you.
One day your Birthmom and your Mom found each other.
They looked into each other's eyes and saw a friend. Your Birthmom saw
the life your Mom could give you. Your Mom saw how much your Birthmom
loved and cared for you.
They decided that what you needed was both kinds of love in your life.
So now you have two families, One by birth, the other by adoption.
And now you have a home where you can get: your questions answered,
your boo boos bandaged,
your heartaches soothed,
and much-needed hugs.
And a place where you can find: answers to your questions,
your image in the mirror,
a part of yourself,
and much-needed hugs.
Two different kinds of families Two different kinds of love
Both a part of you.
from The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
"Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for
They come through you but not from you,
and though they are with you, yet they belong not to
You may give them your love, but not your thoughts,
for they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make
them like you.
For life goes not backward, nor tarries with
AN ADOPTION POEM
Once there were two women
Who hardly knew each other
One you do not remember
The other you call mother
Two different lives shaped to make yours one
One becoming your guiding star
The other became your sun
The first gave you life
And the second taught you to live in it
The first gave you a need for love
And the second was there to give it
One gave you nationality
The other gave you a name
One gave you the seed of talent
The other gave you an aim
One gave you emotions
The other calmed your fears
One saw your first sweet smile
The other dried your tears
The age old questions through the years;
Heredity or environment -
which are you the product of ?
Neither my darling - neither
Just two different kinds of love!
Contributed by Denise
Poem for Adopted Child
To both pairs of parents
One set remembers the daughter of their youth
The other delights in their daughter on this day
For her, they all have committed their hearts as one
To protect the special radiance that she has brought
into all of their lives
J.T. Niswonger 1998
The Velveteen Mother
By Kathryn B. Creedy
Special to The Washington Post
Sunday, May 10, 1998; Page F01
"Now this is real," I thought, flexing my stiff hand as I finished
stitching the numerous patches onto my daughter's Brownie sash. My mind
had drifted back to an encounter on the train that morning, when a seat
mate noticed I was reading Adoptive Families magazine. She had all the
usual questions of someone unfamiliar with adoption. Where were my two
daughters from? How old were they when they arrived? How old are they
Then the conversation took another typical turn.
"I don't know how anyone can give up a child," the woman offered. "I
just can't imagine. Do you know why their real mothers gave them up?"
I've always met that question with a lighthearted response. "I feel
real," I said, leaving the next move to her.
Usually, when faced with that question, I try to discuss what it means
be a parent -- not an adoptive parent or a stepparent, but what it
means to parent a child. As families have changed in the past few
society also is struggling for a definition. "I mean the birth mothers,"
she said. "Why would they give them up?"
I decided to answer her question by educating her on the etiquette of
adoption, a speech I'd repeated many times. "I'm so glad they made
adoption plans," I said. "It was the answer to all my dreams. All I know
is their birth mothers were very great women to do what they did, and I
thank God for them every day."
I went on to gently explain that the girls' adoption stories were theirs
to share, not mine. I also said that if Alexis and Brooks were with us,
sure they would tell those stories. Because we are all quite proud of
family history, unusual though it is.
I've been a mother since 1991, when I brought Alexis home from Romania
at the age of 14 months. Like many other women in this decade, I became
mother on my own. At 39, with no marriage on the horizon and my career
firmly in place, I wanted children. But unlike some "Murphy Browns," I
wanted parenthood without pregnancy.
Adoption was my first choice for many reasons, the most important of
which was that pregnancy didn't look fun. Delivery looked even less fun.
Second, I had no special investment in my own genetics. I knew genes
provided no guarantees, because there are none in life or with children.
I knew how deeply I could love a child the moment I met my 2-week-old
nephew, Matthew. He showed me what I was missing. I knew that any child
I adopted would be my own regardless of how she joined the family.
As one of four children, I also knew I wanted to adopt more than one.
so, in 1993, Brooks arrived. She was 5 months old -- three years younger
than her sister -- and came from the Bolivian plains. She has the golden
glow and almond eyes of the Quechua Indians, descendants of the Inca.
During these seven years, the feeling I've always had is not exactly a
feeling of being real. It's more like utter amazement.
I was amazed to be able to have two such wonderful little girls. If I
called Central Casting and asked for the perfect child, Alexis would
come marching through the door ready to party. I was amazed at the
differences in Brooks, my shy, petite little one who curls herself into
lap whenever she has the chance.
I was amazed at my luck as I listened to them giggle and play while I
stood at the stove cooking dinner. And I was especially amazed when I
hovered over them each night whispering our good-night ritual and
feeling them pull me down for a big hug. Even to this day, I walk away
shaking my head in wonderment, thinking, "Do people who birth their
children have this much thankfulness for the gift they've been given?"
Others have described real to me in terms of chores -- as if quelling
fights, toiling over homework, changing diapers, nursing sick children
coaching innumerable soccer games somehow grants us an entitlement to be
called Mom or Dad. All that, like the Brownie patches and birthday
at Chuck E. Cheese's, represent our patches in this troop called
parenthood, to be sure.
But what few realize is that our paths are not so different. While they
grew a life within them, we grew a mountain of paperwork and researched
the way we would build our families. We, too, went through endless
checkups, but also had extensive home studies. We rearranged the rooms
middle-of-the- night nesting rituals. Our emotions rose and fell wildly
we waited. Waited the long months for our assignments, then months more
before a precious picture or shaky video turned into someone who could
fill our aching, empty arms and hug us back.
Even so, it is not persevering through the similar stages of pregnancy
or adoption that make us real. There is so much more to it. Real is a
tiny hand in mine as we cross the street. Real is the whisper of
breathing as Brooks naps in my arms. Real is as light as a baby's touch.
Real is lying in bed reading stories with small bodies on either side
interrupting with so many questions you think the story will never end.
It's planting flowers and jumping in puddles. It's tickling. It's
a running youngster as she jumps into your arms when you pick her up in
evening. It's mastering roller blading and ice skating. Real is lifting
a crying child into your arms and dabbing a bloody knee. It's letting go
of the bicycle and little hands at the classroom door.
It's secretly watching a 2-year-old sing lullabies as she lovingly lines
her baby dolls and covers them for a nap. It's listening to kids pound
down the stairs on Christmas morning, their feety-pajamas swishing along
the bare floor toward the prizes ahead. And it's passing on the family
traditions, as your child takes your place at your father's side to
become the official Thanksgiving turkey taster --her small hand reaching
up to remind him she's ready for her job. Real is, quite simply, the
thrills all parents get from just being a parent and loving their
Finally, around midnight, the once-bare Brownie sash was festooned with
patches: the Troop 1351 patch, the theater, dancing and sleepover
As I turned it over and pictured it on Alexis, it didn't surprise me to
discover that my rare and feeble attempt at sewing had resulted in all
patches being affixed to the back of the sash.
"Typical," I thought, shaking my head. "Well, it will just have to do."
As I readied myself for bed, I thought again of my favorite passage from
"The Velveteen Rabbit."
"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day -- . "Real isn't how you are
made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a
child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY
loves you, then you become Real." Real is also when you get lucky enough
to have a child to love.
And, yes, it's also taking all the patches off and sewing them back on