Adoptee/Author/Speaker Julie Barnhill Shares-" My Birth Mother Chose Life and I am Forever Grateful!"

 

 

My birth mother did not know the name of the man who fathered me.

He was a random extramarital hook up during an alcohol-fueled time period during the marriage to the father of five of my older siblings. (Step-siblings it turns out.)
I will never know the paternal side of my DNA makeup, ethnicity, or blood lineage of my birth father. I will never see myself in the physicality or mannerisms of a birth father. I will never know anything more about him other than what my birth mother told me when I was 40-years old: "He was dark."

I will never know but, understand this: I am known & my life was ordained.
God knew where my birth mother would be the day of my conception.
God knew (knows) the man who contributed the XY portion of my genome set.
God knew in that moment of adultery that I would be formed.
Me, the illegitimate child.
Me, the brown-skinned, brown-eyed baby who shocked everyone in the decidedly not brown-skinned, brown-eyed, biological family on a California morning back in 1965.
God knew them--birth mother, birth father.
God knew me--Julie Ann.
God ordained [fixed or established especially by order or command] the weaving together of my body, mind, spirit, and soul, in the secret place of my mother's womb.
I have lived outside the womb 1,583,280,000 seconds.
How does one fathom their non-existence? or, grasp what it would have been like to not know the love of treasured adoptive parents and the delight of a beloved Grandma? or, begin to comprehend not being part of the lives of friends from Kindergarten to her 50s? or, to have missed the passion of a tall, dark, and handsome man whose touch still makes her melt? and to have never felt the life of her own babies kick within her and to watch them take their first breath and turn at the sound of hearing your voice?
How? One does not. It is impossible.
Hashtags abound today exhorting women to ‪#‎ShoutYourAbortion‬. Tonight I choose to ‪#‎ShoutMyLife‬ and to give thanks to my birth mother (now deceased) who chose to continue my life despite her fearing over nine-months that I would be who she feared I'd be: another man's child.
Abortions in 1965, though technically illegal, were still a very real possibility for someone seeking an out from the evidence of her infidelity. My birth mother, Guin, chose life and I am here as the result and forever grateful for such.

‪#‎ChooseLife‬ ‪#‎EvenInTheWorstOfCircumstancesChooseLife4ItISLife‬

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Julie Barnhill, adoptee, wife to one husband, mom to three children, author of eleven books, and Founder of Solace Gathering, an island retreat for women whose cheese has fallen off their cracker. 

Adoptee Writing Contest 2015, 4th Prize winner Hugh Steven, An Open Letter to the Mother I Never Knew

An Open Letter to the Mother I Never Knew

~By Hugh Steven~

 

At the outset, I must say this title is not exactly correct.  What is true, however, is that after more than half a century, I learned your real name. Elizabeth is such a lovely name.  It slips off the tongue with a delicious poetic rhythm and cadence, although I understand everybody called you Elsie. 

 

It is also true I never heard you laugh, saw the color of your hair, knew what your favorite foods were, the kind of music you liked, or the books you read, but I have come to know at least who you were.  And while I am saddened at never having had the joy of recognizing your handwriting on a birthday card, or hearing the sound of your voice over the telephone, I have, however, met you in ways far beyond those who made life difficult for you when you delivered a four and a half pound boy without the support of a husband or the approval of family.  What a moment of awful loneliness for you.

 

I say I know you, because I can close my eyes and visualize the kind of young woman you were.  Like most young women, you were vulnerable, trusting, longing for love and acceptance.  Later, when you found yourself pregnant, you had the strength to admit that to be human is to err.  You also had the strength of character not to blame anyone but yourself.  You steadfastly refused to implicate my father.  And then after keeping me for five and half months, you found yourself in the grip of circumstances greater than your strength to cope.  But you possessed enough emotional intelligence to make the hard choice to give me up to an orphanage rather than an ill-tempered abusive uncle who wanted me.  Thanks, Mom.

 

As it turned out, some of the several foster homes that I was in for a couple of years were not a whole lot better than the home of my ill-tempered uncle.  What you didn't or couldn't have known was that all this occurred within the Divine will of God, the Creator of all life.   You see, God had a plan for me to be shaped and molded in a certain way and that shaping would come from the tutelage of my Grandfather Steven.  But before this could happen, I had to be taken into the home of Dave and Mable Steven.  They were a young couple who had suffered two miscarriages and believed they would never be able to have children of their own.  And so, Mom, at the age of two and a half, the Stevens took me into their home.  But what they didn't know was how much the abuse of over two years of poor foster care had on my physical health.  I don't remember it of course, but my new mom said for several weeks after they took me to their home, I was unable to walk. I had severe ear infections that required surgery, and I contacted every childhood disease that came down the pike.  These illnesses, plus being a nervous and shy little boy, made me lose a lot of early school time.

 

But little by little, as the years passed, my health improved under the care of the Stevens.  All through those years, I was also under the supervision of God's grace. 

I say, God's grace, because as a young teenager, there were many competing voices calling for my allegiance.  Some would have caused great personal wreckage had I listened and followed.  But that did not occur, because the most High God prevailed.  At the suggestion of Mom Steven who thought, I should attend the neighborhood Baptist church; I complied. Interesting, I noticed you and Clarence the man you eventually married both listed your religious affiliation as Baptist.

 

Thus, as a young teenager, I found myself in church, and as I began to hear a story of profound love, a spiritual rebirth took place in my life. Soon after my spiritual journey began, God brought into my life a dark-haired, beautiful and talented young woman who shared my same faith in God and my dreams for the future.  She had herself discovered how much God loved her and had made her own personal commitment of faith.  Her name is Norma, and she became my superlative wife and mother of four fine talented children, two boys and two girls.  My sadness as I write this to you is that you never had the opportunity to meet Norma nor any of your amazingly beautiful and highly individualistic eleven grandchildren and our two great grandchildren.

 

As I close this letter, I have often wondered about you, what you looked like, what my two half sisters and brother were like.  But more than wanting my curiosity satisfied, I have thought about your own emotions during particular moments of solitude.  Perhaps, just before you drifted off to sleep or while walking through a park, you may have heard the excited laughter of a child.  Did you, in that instant, think of me and wonder what I was doing, what I looked like?  And as the years ticked by, did you ever wonder how I matured?   I can tell you that looking at me today, none of my friends would ever believe I began life as a four and a half pound baby!

 

Since this is Mother's Day, and since this is the very first letter I have ever written to you, I want to tell you I love you, am grateful to you and to God that you didn't take the easy way out, but gave me the gift of life.  That took courage, faith and love.  Thanks, Mom, and Happy Mother’s Day. ~

 

 

Hugh Steven is a historical biographer, author and photographer with Wycliffe Bible Translators (now retired).  He has published over thirty books and hundreds of articles on the work and ministry of Wycliffe.  Many of his books, articles and photos have given readers dramatic insights into the high adventure and transforming power of the translated scriptures into many of the world's ethnic languages.  

 

Hugh has also been a summer lecturer at Regent College of the University of British Columbia, Biola University, and Trinity Western University on creativity and writing.  With his wife Norma, Hugh has held writers workshops in Singapore, Australia, the US and Canada. His book The Nature of Story and Creativity is a standard text in these workshops

 

Hugh's most recent book is Translating Christ, the Memoirs of Herman Peter Aschmann.  When they are able Hugh and Norma spend time each summer on one of the Gulf Islands in the Pacific Northwest, fishing,  “a great place to read.”.  He and his wife Norma, also an author of four books,   enjoy visiting their children and grandchildren in Seattle, Virginia and Florida.  The Stevens make their home in Santa Ana, California.  They have four married children and eleven grandchildren and two great grand children.  Both are active members at Trinity United Presbyterian Church, both are ordained elders.

( Permission is needed to reprint this letter in any print or online media, 2015 )