“When a mother gives up a child, it fundamentally changes her, on a cellular level,” I said, carefully choosing my words. “I wasn’t the same person I’d been before I was pregnant.” I could feel the tears coming, the futility of my words, knowing that no matter what I said, it would never be enough to explain what I’d done twenty-five years ago or the choices I’d made in the last several months. “Over the years it’s a yearning—a physical need that buzzes beneath your skin, a constant reminder that something important is missing.”
