I want to shout from the rooftops about my experience recently. I can’t share it all due to confidentiality, but if I can leave you with one thing — something everyone has heard before — be kind.

I had the heart-wrenching but cherished honor to be with someone as they gave birth. I held her hand as the baby was removed from her body and watched as doctors and nurses did their duties to bring life into the world. A human being was created, and I had the utmost honor of watching her be born.

Little one, you are fearfully and wonderfully made.

I then sat and held a woman as she battled her own demons, swayed back and forth in her parenting options, life goals, and future plans. A human being had to sit in a sterile room as professionals walked in and congratulated her on her baby. Her eyes would close and her shoulders would fall each time a new hospital staff member walked in. She would let out a breath and brace herself for their first words: “Congratulations!” She was more brave than I could ever hope to be.

On the final day before she was discharged, she proclaimed, “When someone loses a child during birth there is a sticker or a notice placed on the door. A subtle indication to all who enter to be kind, to acknowledge this moment. Why can’t there be stickers to let those who enter this room know what has taken place, an adoption? Be sensitive, mindful, and respect MY choices.”

I had the heartbreaking but awe-inspiring pleasure to witness life entering the world, but also life cradled, loved, cherished… and then surrendered to another.

I held a woman who put her own wants, wishes, and desires last. She birthed a daughter, held her, whispered I love you, and provided her a different life than she could offer. She metaphorically ripped her own heart out of her chest with no anesthesia, and then, with a swipe of a pen, brought renewed hope, love, and family. All the while, she was crumbling.

I love you, mama. I will forever hold dear what you allowed me to witness. You will forever be on a very short list of humans I admire, respect, and that inspire me. I love you.

The saddest aspect of the entire event was leaving the hospital. Waving goodbye to mama as she traveled home. Then I walked back to the parking lot, stopping at a crosswalk, seeing people walk by, stop, drive. And then realizing the entire world keeps going. This monumental, life-altering moment changed lives, altered families, yet goes largely unnoticed. A bleep on the radar.

Be kind. Those you are passing may just be holding it together with a prayer alone.

To the birth parents of the world, you should be honored. Your bravery and strength are unmatched.

To adoptive families waiting, your time will come. While you wait, pray for your child’s first family as they navigate this seemingly unforgiving world.

To hospital staff, you know these women for 24–48 hours. Every time a new person walked into mama’s room I had to ask, “Have you seen her hospital plan?” Every single person, doctor, nurse, care team, etc stated, “No, I just came on shift.” Wouldn’t it be helpful to know what you’re walking into?

I understand you are busy, sometimes swamped. But wouldn’t your time and the care of your patients be elevated if you didn’t have to make them explain why they are here? Your time in each room would be less; you would have more information and be more efficient. Of course, emergencies happen! But a giant portion of your staff who will know these women for only 24–48 hours say things like, “You can parent if you want to,” or “There are a lot of resources available.”

Then, after you have swayed them in their plan, they discharge, walk out those hospital doors, and those babies often end up in the system or an unhealthy environment. You don’t assist them in how to parent or even find them resources to help; you wave goodbye, thinking you helped her.

Women making an adoption plan spend weeks, sometimes months, with their caseworkers exploring all options: parenting, placing, finances, resources, emotions before, during, and long after labor. They get counseling. They weigh their options. Then, in the midst of the traumatic, emotional event of giving birth, you catch them off guard. You have no idea the planning she has done for this moment.

If she is working with a licensed adoption agency, all due diligence has been taken to empower her, advocate for her, allow HER to have choices, and assist her to build the future she has imagined.

Adoption is not the stealing of babies. It’s the building of families, communities bringing people together. Do better at honoring your patients’ choices. Be kind.

To those that are scared of open adoption, or adoption in general: it will be okay. You will cross fewer hurdles and your children will be less traumatized by not only acknowledging birth families but treasuring them even if you experience a newborn adoption. This is not co-parenting, this is a celebration of expanding families. Embrace differences, honor culture, and above all else, remain kind. Build your adoption village! Talk openly to your kids, allow them to express their thoughts and feelings. Even if the words may sting, they need to process.

Adoption is blind faith. You take a step, close your eyes, and pray someone will catch you as you fall for all parties involved. The adoption triad is sacred. There is no room for selfishness or entitlement, it is holy ground that should be respected, appreciated, and honored.

Be kind