The Birth Mother

Somewhere in China a woman is about to give birth to a baby girl (or girls) who will become our daughter/s. For no particular reason, we sense Kavanna is yet to be born (although sometimes I wonder if she's already here, but recently so). My thoughts wander to her birth mother, waiting to deliver her baby. Is she anxious with anticipation, knowing that if it's a girl she cannot keep her? In China it's illegal for doctors to reveal the gender of a baby to the mothers. Who is she, I wonder. A farmer, a factory worker, a student? Chances are she's married, as it's nearly unheard of for women to bear children out of wedlock. Is this her first child? Her last?

I imagine her feeling the kicks of her unborn child. She must feel the elation of a mother who feels life growing within her, and also the dread of knowing she cannot keep a girl baby. I wonder if she ever argues with her family about the fate of her unborn baby, vowing to keep her if she's a girl, or if she has submitted to the inevitable with a sense of helpless despair.

What will Kavanna's first hours or days be like? My hope is that in the brief time she is with her birth parents that she feels loved. I imagine them weeping as they say goodbye, kissing her and holding her tight, memorizing the feel of her. For them, that last touch must last a lifetime.

We will never know Kavanna's birth mother and father. And we will always be grateful to them for their sacrifice... and their gift to us.