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On Saturday, May 8, I will celebrate my role as a mother and reflect on the life I made for my daughter without me. For I am a birthmother and with other birthmothers and a growing number of adoptive parents, I will be marking Birthmother's Day and the roles we played in our children's lives.

Memories of those days come flooding back to me and again I am touched with pride in what I was able to accomplish for her during my short time as parent.

I remember sitting alone - seven months pregnant -- as the noisy celebration of the Fourth of July, punctuated my uncertainty concerning the decisions I had made during my pregnancy. I faced three options, single motherhood, abortion or adoption and had long since rejected abortion.

Her birthfather was too young and had too many problems to take care of anyone other than himself. So, for seven months, I had been confident that I would join the legions of single mothers raising their children however difficult those circumstances would be. Everything would be okay - somehow. Many women did it. I was sure I could too.

But during that hot, July weekend, I began to wonder. My confidence about becoming a mother was suddenly being nudged aside by overwhelming questions. How will I feed my baby? Sure, I could work two jobs but I'd never be home. What kind of life is that for a child? Suddenly, I felt selfish in the face of a complete conviction that my daughter deserved the best. That's what Moms are supposed to do for their children, I reasoned. They are supposed to do their best and I was wondering if my best was what was best for her.

I began considering adoption but knew little about it. I was trying to make a lifelong decision and I needed facts, fast, before I started to meet any prospective parents.

What emerged from my research and silent deliberations was a direct placement. I knew the only way I could make an adoption plan was to exercise my parental rights. It was, however, more than a right. It was an obligation, a sacred duty. I had to know who her parents were to be. I had to know she would be safe and loved. That was a job I could not hand to another.

Because adoption has changed today, the ability to choose parents gave me what I needed to make my difficult decision. It allowed me to do what was right in providing for the rest of her life while entrusting her to other people to raise.

My counselor helped me work through the details of my adoption plan. She educated me on adoption and guided me in my planning. She did everything she could to help me weigh the pros and cons of each option, to help me make the right plan, first for my baby and then for me. I wouldn't have been as strong without her guidance and concern.

My mother also played a pivotal role in both supporting me and in linking me to my child's parents. I received their letter and it brought tears to my eyes. I could feel their hope and excitement. But still, I needed time. I needed to make sure of my decision to make an adoption plan. I did not want to get their hopes up if I were not truly ready to talk to them as my baby's prospective parents.

I learned much waiting for her to be born. I wondered if I had the courage to take the next steps. I learned I had strength I didn't even know I had to accomplish the tasks ahead. The journey showed me that courage, and determination, are an inextricable part of making an adoption plan.

I learned that no one should make such decisions alone. My grandparents supported my plans, as with my mother, provided counsel gained through the wisdom of age. Friends and family kept me busy when they saw me retreating into my confusion.

I learned from my best friend, also facing an unplanned pregnancy and plans for single motherhood, that we must each make our own decisions unfettered by outside pressures or decisions others make for themselves. We are all different and while our choices may differ, they are equally valid; equally right.

I learned responsibility despite the far easier paths I could have chosen. My mother was suffering guilt, thinking that she should care for my child. But for her to start over with an infant seemed so cruelly unfair. This was my responsibility. I was an adult and I was going to handle this; make a plan.

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