Toby's Story:

It was a late spring evening when we met on a blind date, in Brooklyn, NY. We walked to the bay, where the Verrazano bridge was lit up. That was the night we fell in love. We were both fifteen.

I was an orphan by age ten and was living with my stepmother, her sons and my sister. My brother had been separated from us. I did not get along with my stepmother and needless to say, the loss in my life was enormous. On that spring night, someone fell in love with me.

When we were sixteen, I became pregnant. His family would not accept me and my stepmother was livid. She sent me away to a home for unwed mothers and told me that I had to give my baby up for adoption. She also told me some other things. I was worthless and dirty. She warned me not to tell any of my family members. Not even my sister or brother knew where I was or that I was pregnant. Stories were made up as to where I did go. I was so terrified and in a state of shock, that I truly believed that I couldn't call anyone in my family for help. Except for one aunt, who befriended my stepmother and collaborated with her to send me away, no one knew. I was forbidden to see my boyfriend ever again.

I gave birth to a beautiful, dimpled baby girl. I named her and held her for seven days. When my step mother came to the hospital, I asked her if she saw my baby in the nursery. Her reply was, "Wipe that smile off your face. Any cat can have kittens."

My boyfriend and I brought our child to the adoption agency and said goodbye to the only daughter that either one of us would ever have. I went home. The shot they had given me in the hospital to dry up my breast milk did not take effect. I could not stop crying. My stepmother slapped my face and told me that there was more where that came from if I didn't stop crying. There was a social worker who wanted to counsel and console me. My step mother cut off all communication between this social worker and myself. I was not worthy to have a kind word said to me.

I was to go on as if none of this had ever happened and was told to be thankful that no one would know just how bad I was.

Each birthmother has their story. Some sadder, some not as sad. What remains the same in us all is that we have had our hearts broken in the same place. The birthdays we will never share. The first steps we did not see. That first day of school. The word "mommy" not heard.

This is our story

I found my daughter when she was seventeen years old. We met twice and then parted. She has photos and many answers to her life long questions. I am a single mom to three loving sons. I have been doing searches for families separated by adoption since 1984.

"Give sorrow words: the grief that
does not speak whispers to the o'erwrought
heart and bids it break"  William Shakespeare

In 1997 something wonderful happened. I became a foster mom to my son's girlfriend. We are quite close and love one another dearly. She and my son are now married. I walked her down the aisle.

I have a daughter and she calls me "mommy".