December 3rd, 1998 seems but a breath away in my memory. At any given moment I can recall and relive the events from that cool winter’s morning. The scene lies untouched in the dark place of my heart; a place of perpetual mourning. That day the snowflakes fell outside of my hospital window as if they were trying to gain my attention, if only for a moment. Not today. I was determined to stay centered on one small, but special being ...my newly born daughter, Emily. I was young, and during my pregnancy, I had made the decision to relinquish my baby for adoption. As the day draws near to celebrate my daughter’s fifth birthday, my mind escapes back to that day in December.

That day was both the beginning and the end of our lives together as mother and daughter. I do not regret my choice, for I did what was best for both of us at that time. I only wish I had known the consequences of that one choice, and how that single choice of relinquishment would forever alter, for better and for worse, the girl I once was and the woman I had hoped to become.

Only a few weeks had passed after placing Emily into her new adoptive home before I came to realize that I wanted to help others who had walked a path similar to my own. I had an open adoption, which meant I would continue to have a relationship with my daughter and her family--a relationship built on respect, honesty, communication, trust, and of course, love. Although my personal situation was flowing smoothly, I quickly learned that many other birthmoms were abused and abandoned by the adoption system. This quickened my heart with compassion and concern. A passion I never anticipated grew within me. I never knew that once I signed the relinquishment papers, I’d actually walk away with something of value. I gained purpose. For the first time in my life, I knew what I wanted to do with my life. All my former dreams of being this or that flew out of the window of my heart. I decided I would write from my experiences as a birthmom, as well as humbly try to be the voice for others who were too afraid to be vocal.

After two years of networking online and speaking at local adoption agencies and maternity homes, slowly I was offered opportunities for employment in the adoption community. I was astonished that I could not only do what I loved, but also get paid for it. First I began working as a contributing writer for Adoption.com–a job that lasted nearly three years. I was able to get my feet wet, as well as get my name known as a writer, at Adoption.com. Currently, I am sharing my views with the readers of Adoption Today Magazine as a birthmother columnist. I’ve also contributed my writings to Fm Magazine, a new magazine just for birthmothers that two birthmom friends started this past summer. Not to mention I am the webmaster and founder of Lifemothers.com, one of the best internet web resources for birthmothers. Looking back, I cannot believe how far I’ve come in five short years and I eagerly look forward to where I will be in another five years.

I often look back on the girl I once was, a girl who made such a big choice in such a small amount of time. No one at the adoption agency told me all the ways I would be changed on a personal level after placing my daughter for adoption. I was told that I’d grieve, and I’d be sad, both truth, but I was never told of the life-changing, immense ways I would be changed on a level so deep and intimate. I would look at all aspects of life differently. From marriage, motherhood, friendships, career, and even the way I view myself as a woman. I’ve been rendered forever altered. The scrawl of my daughter’s name remains tattooed on the foundational pieces of who I am. Looking back, how could I have ever believed I could be the same after nurturing her within my own body, delivering her into my arms, and then whispering a breath of goodbye? I did not know then, but I do know now.

Choices. They are ours to make every day. Some choices are simple, leaving only a wake of small consequence behind. Some choices, on the other hand, are so great they can cut us down to the bone and leave us in pieces; fragments of the former, and hopeful for the future. I refuse to see myself as better or worse since I became a birthmother–I’m just different. I have a passion that greets me each morning with a new sense of purpose, and a job that brings fulfillment to my life where it once lacked. However, I do long for her, the girl I once was. Sometimes, I can still see her sitting alone in the waiting room at the adoption agency. A girl so familiar, yet forever lost to me. Her face laced with unseen tears, as her hand rests tenderly on her swollen belly. She swallows hard the choice that is hers alone to make. If I could go back and say just one thing to that girl, I’d stoop down before her and say, "In relinquishing Emily, you’ll be relinquishing a part of Skye, but darling, hold on like hell to what you’ve got left, because you are going to make it."

And nearly five years later, I'm doing just that.