I was reminded of a very basic reality last night. I was sitting in a circle with 25 other birthmothers at a weekend retreat, and looking around the room, I once again realized that we are all sooooo different and yet, so much the same. (and don’t ask me why this continues to strike me as something to blog about but I guess I am a slow learner!). Let’s see, this retreat has a med student, a few grad students, a massage therapist, a high school sophomore, a grandmother, a full-time mother and a nurse... and that is only a very partial list!
I remember when Elizabeth Edwards died recently, another victim of breast cancer, I heard several interviews from people who knew and loved her and was struck by the one common thread that kept coming up. All the people they asked to comment on her life were not political pundits, or Washington big-shots, but people who had some connection to breast cancer. The very first interview I heard (ironically it was with a man rather than a woman) but he still said “...the most amazing thing Elizabeth Edwards ever said to me was that no matter where she goes, whenever she meets another cancer survivor, she feels an immediate bond with kindred spirit with them.” Then someone else said, “...Elizabeth Edwards shared a sisterhood with every other survivor she met.”
So I guess if you want to know what it is like to be a birthmother, go talk to a breast cancer survivor. We all know what it means when we see someone in a pink baseball cap; It means she is a fighter, a brave survivor, yet obviously not without the scars left from the both physical and emotional wounds inflicted by a terrible disease.
Maybe someday birthmothers will wear a cap too, and then you will see that we aren’t so rare after all; We too are fighters, brave survivors, yet not without out wounds inflicted from making the most difficult decision of our lives.
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