The science of how new life begins is fascinating. The way a woman’s body recognizes the tiny embryo inside of her, and how it begins to change to support the pregnancy. The way her hormones, blood, and cells all work together simultaneously, and instinctively know what to do to feed and grow this new life that is part of her. Her belly soon begins to swell. There are the first signs of movement, the flutters and kicks. For those nine months mother and baby are one, in their own little world.

Oxytocin is often called the “love hormone”. It has been found to be associated with feelings of bonding and motherhood. It is first released in a woman’s body during labour. At this time, morphine-like hormones, called endorphins, are also released. As well as natural pain relief, endorphins can also induce feelings of elation and happiness in a woman. In the moments just before delivery, the fetus is also releasing a high level of hormones of the adrenaline family. There is a major spike in cortisol levels at this time. This prenatal cortisol surge has also been linked to more attentive mothering in both women and animals. A newborn’s smell is scientifically proven to be addictive to new mothers.

After the baby is born, blood levels of oxytocin are said to be very high, which supports bonding between a mother and her baby. A newborn and their mother will make eye contact as they experience skin-to-skin contact for the first time. This experience will stimulate the release of more oxytocin and further encourage bonding. In fact, many mothers describe being in a euphoric state just after labour, which is due to the natural effects of oxytocin and endorphins. Both mother and baby are in a complex and fascinating hormonal balance. This is the miraculous experience of pregnancy and birth.

This experience has nothing to do with a woman’s culture, her family’s religion, her financial status, her age, or even her marital status. It is pure and natural science. It is the way we were designed. It is instinctual. It’s what makes us human.

I came across the following post on Facebook two months ago, just before Christmas:

“To my FB prayer group friends, a request from a friend this Advent: ‘please pray that an unwed pregnant mother and a young couple unable to conceive find their way to each other through the Lord’s graces’”.

I was deeply triggered by this post. I could instantly feel my heart beat faster and harder while reading it. I felt both profound sadness and anger. I was that unwed pregnant girl. Now I am a 51year old married woman who lives with the gut-wrenching pain of regret. I’ve battled thoughts and feelings of inadequacy and unworthiness ever since losing my firstborn to adoption, because I was led to believe someone else was more deserving of parenting my baby than I was. For my entire adult life, I’ve believed that I was not enough.

So how does it start, this journey to becoming a birth mother? How does a mother walk away from her own flesh and blood? In my experience, and for many others in the Church, it starts with the shackles of shame and guilt. Shame drove me into hiding and solitude. It began to thrive in secrecy and hiding. It whispered “you are such a failure, you are alone, and you are not enough”. Shame wreaked havoc on my mind. It caused tremendous stress, confusion and denial.

During my very first appointment with my family doctor after I discovered I was pregnant, he brought up the topic of adoption. It had honestly never even crossed my mind, neither did abortion. He proceeded to tell me about relatives who were unable to conceive and would love to adopt my baby. I left that appointment thinking to myself, “I am NOT giving my baby away”.

In the days that followed, a battle of fear and excitement waged war inside my mind. I was fearful and worried about what my family, and people in my church, would think about my pregnancy, what they would think about me. But I was also excited about having a baby. As a young girl who loved playing with dolls, I had always dreamed of the day I would have my own real babies to care for.

Soon after that, it was suggested to me by my parents that I could move away, give my baby up for adoption, and no one would ever have to know about my pregnancy. That was all it took for shame to grip me in its shackles. It seemed I could cover up my sin and escape the reality of my situation. Shame and fear hung over me like a dark imposing cloud. They wrapped around me, and silenced me. Without hesitation, I made the decision to move away. I never even gave a second thought to the implications of such a life-changing decision. I had no idea at the time how the decision to let my baby go would change the trajectory of my life, or my family’s. I had no earthly idea what I was getting into.

I shared this decision with my family doctor and he put the plan into motion after that. A social worker contacted me shortly after my move, and began her ‘home study’ of me. Once all this had started, it seemed impossible to stop. I began to feel very conflicted about my decision. I began to experience an overwhelming sense of confusion and powerlessness over my own life.

In her notes, the social worker recorded that I cried a lot during our meetings, yet I don’t recall her pausing to ask if I was okay, or if this was what I truly wanted. I certainly never gave myself permission to feel what needed to be felt, or question this adoption plan either. I desperately wanted to escape from the disapproval and shame. I thought giving my baby away would “fix” everything, and after all, I could make a prospective adoptive couple’s dream come true. Their sadness and their burden became mine to carry. My shame and guilt had been reinforced by the social worker, and I felt obligated to provide a baby for a couple who could not conceive their own. It was my redemption.

I still remember everything about my first pregnancy. I remember tenderly rubbing my hands over my belly as it began to swell. I clearly remember sitting on the old orange couch in my basement apartment watching in awe as my baby moved around changing the shape of my round belly. I wondered if it was his tiny foot, or little elbow that quickly moved when I poked with my hand. I remember everything about the day my labour started and how afraid I was of the physical pain I knew I was about to endure. And then several hours later, my baby had entered the world screaming. I’ll never forget the moment I first laid eyes on him, and how calm and at peace he became once the nurse laid him on my chest. I remember counting his tiny fingers and toes. I remember feeling so much joy as I drank in this miraculous bundle of perfection. I remember. We all do. You can never forget your baby.

Psychotherapist and author, Nancy Verrier, writes, “The connection between mother and child is primal, mystical, mysterious, and everlasting. Far more than merely biological and historical, this primal connection is also cellular, psychological, emotional, and spiritual. So deep runs the connection between a child and its mother that the severing of that bond results in a profound wound for both, a wound from which neither fully recovers. In the case of adoption, the wound cannot be avoided, but it can and must be acknowledged and understood”.     

Why do we not apply the same depth of a mother’s emotions and feelings to the young, unmarried girl who is pregnant? Why is she seen as less-than? Why is she seen merely as a vessel for the purpose of building a family for someone else?

In his book, The Genius of Jesus, author Erwin Raphael McManus, writes, “In my life experience, I have found that perhaps the greatest gift you can give another human being is the gift of being understood. When no one understands you, you are truly alone in the world. But when someone understands you, it makes an incredible difference. When we know we’re not alone, we can bear almost any hardship, survive almost any wounding, overcome almost any pain or sorrow”.

Walking away from my baby in the hospital that day in the name of adoption was neither beautiful, nor brave, nor courageous. It was the act of a fearful, confused, and ill-informed girl who became a birth mother.