Enjoy this guest blog post from Erin E. McEndree. Even if you are not in the adoption arena, there is great wisdom in her words. I met Erin many years ago through a writer's group. Her calming spirit always makes one feel welcome and loved.

Erin's book is available on my website as well at https://maryrodman.com/updates. I will pass on the information to Erin and she will send you a signed copy.

Hi! I am Erin. I like to say I was my mom and dad’s little girl before I was born.

My birth mother got pregnant, and my birth father broke it off and did not take responsibility. My birth mother’s parents took her to a maternity home for three months until I was born. It was not her choice. She prayed for a Christian couple to raise me surrounded by the love of the Lord. She did not get to hold me or see me. The nurse told her I was a girl and that I had all 10 fingers and all 10 toes, which translated to, “You had a healthy baby.” Her dad came to pick her up, and I was never spoken of again. But that didn’t mean she didn’t think of me all the time.

My mom could not have children. She and my dad tried many different methods without success. There were tests and shots and temperature readings. Every month was a letdown without success. They adopted my brother three years before me.

My parents raised us surrounded by the love of the Lord. We always knew we were adopted because Mom read us books about being adopted. Being adopted was just a fact about my life. Mom and Dad equated being adopted to how God also adopts His children. I grew up reading and believing the passages about being chosen, adopted into the family, having the same rights as biological children, and as my great-grandfather said, “It ain’t no different. You love them kids as your own!”

I was content with my loving family. I never had a deep need to search for my biological family. I knew whose I was, God’s child, and that led me to be secure in who I was regardless of my beginning. There are so many biblical truths that were our lifestyle that helped me sidestep trauma or depression or anxiety or feeling rejected that can accompany adoption.

I always said, “If God wants me to know my birth mother, He will work it out behind the scenes and let me know.” Well, He did give her to me.

At 36, out of the blue, I came across an adoption connect website that helped adoptees and birth mothers find their biological parents or children. So, kind of for fun, I put my info on the board to see if a Search Angel could find anything. Well, within two hours I had our birth certificate number, her dad’s obituary listing all the relatives’ names, and her Facebook photo. God just gave her to me.

I was also sharing this with my parents. I didn’t keep any secrets. They didn’t keep secrets from me, and I was their child they raised with the same beliefs. My husband found her phone number in the phone book on the computer. But I didn’t use it right away because I was struggling with whether or not I was going to open a huge can of worms for her, cause her grief and pain, or destroy her relationships, especially if her family did not know about me. I was content and secure with my life. I didn’t need to know her to feel complete.

At the same time, I would go to a coffee shop and write. I’m a writer. One day I was talking to the owner, who made a great latte, by the way. She asked me if my last name was Williamson. I immediately got all teary-eyed and emotional, and she came to give me a hug and asked me what she had said. Williamson was the last name of my birth mother, whom I had not called. She said she had no idea why she said that name.

I told her God had just used her to let me know, “I, God, have given her to you. Call her.”

That night, December 14th, 2009, I called. Her husband answered the phone. I was mortified, hoping I had not just destroyed her life and brought up her past that she never wanted. I told her my name, that my hair was red like hers, my birthday, and that I would love to talk to her, but I wanted to know what she wanted to do. Then I paused. She paused. Then she said, “Can I put you on hold?”

Later, she told me she looked at her husband and asked, “This is my baby. Can I talk to her?” We just had our 16-year anniversary of that call.

She was also a Christian. We put the characteristics of Galatians 5:22–23, the Fruit of the Spirit, into practice straight away. It was already our lifestyle, and we practiced love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. We always think of one another when we talk, my mom included, being careful not to dredge up the past. There is nothing back there we need. We started from December 14 and went forward.

We shared recipes, fun family photos, traditions, and became good friends. My mom was a little more cautious. She needed proof that my birth mother was not going to hurt me, was not trying to replace her, and didn’t want anything from me. It took my mother nine years to finally be curious enough to ask questions. I shared small details here and there, but my mom never asked any follow-up questions.

Finally, they met on neutral ground. My mom and birth mother talked for two hours. Her husband and my dad talked for two hours. I was in the building but had other responsibilities and was not privy to their conversations. After the event, later that night, my mom said, “They are such nice people.” I wanted to yell, “I know!” But my mom had to do it in her own time. God was working on her heart just like He was working in all of our hearts as well.

This is long, and I could write so much more. Actually, I have written and published my story, called Adoption Reimagined: Building Relationships in the Adoption Arena and What to Do When It Doesn’t Work. I am also a life coach, and I weave in the nine Fruit of the Spirit and strategies to help adoptees, adoptive moms, and birth mothers navigate difficult situations and the trauma that adoption can create.

I will end with this: patience is the key. My daughter got married in August, and my birth mother sat next to my mom, who sat next to me on the front row. When I asked my mother if she could sit on the front row, my mother said, “Of course! Where else would she sit?” I am so glad I made the call.

If you need help navigating the adoption arena, want my book or book a call, visit my website. Click here: ADOPTION REIMAGINED