The 1960s were the years of the Flower Power Generation. The Conflict in Vietnam was escalating and the United States was involved. Students were protesting our involvement. The youth of our Nation was revolting against this conflict, society, and their parents.

I was facing the biggest crisis of my life and the world, with all its events, ceased to exist as my world came crashing down around me. I was sixteen, pregnant, and unmarried! Marriage wasnt an option because of our age and immaturity. Therefore, my parents opposed my desire to keep and raise my child. They wanted to avoid the shame and pain that was sure to follow. I was left to deal with feelings of abandonment by the birthfather and my parents. The love and support that I needed during this time in my life was not given to me.

I was sent to a far away city to live in an Unwed Mothers Home to await the birth of my baby. I was separated from not only my family but from every person I had ever known and thrown into a home with strangers. Life in the home was a struggle, not only daily living but when giving birth alone.

Against my wishes, my child would be placed for adoption. It was a decision that would separate me from my child and haunt me for years to come. It would change my life forever.

I will never forget the day I walked down the hall to meet my daughter. It was a moment to say hello and goodbye. This should have been a happy day but sadness was in the air. My heart was overwhelmed with an indescribable pain Id never felt before. I wasnt sure of my feelings as I approached the door and stood outside, briefly listening to her muffled cries; but knew I had to see her.

I entered the room where my baby was lying on a dressing table. She was clad in a diaper and her legs were kicking slightly. I walked over to her in amazement as I looked down at that tiny piece of me. I wish mom could see you now, I thought, as I touched her through my tears. I began to count fingers and toes and she was just as perfect as the nurse had said. My throat was tight and I was shaking in fear. The words slowly came to my lips as I spoke lovingly to my daughter.

I re-affirmed my promise to her at that moment as I held her to me. I vowed to search for her some day, someway as I whispered, I love you. She began to cry and her tears mingled with mine, cementing the bond of a mother and child. I tried to control my emotions as her image blurred through my tears. I dressed her in the clothes I bought for her. I picked her up again and hugged her close to me. I felt gentle hands prying her from me. I struggled to hold on and yet not hurt her, but it wasnt meant to be. Her face blurred through my tears as she was taken from me and they left the room with her. I was left standing alone shaking in uncontrollable sobs.

I realized Id just lost the final battle and wondered if this new feeling inside me was hate and if it would ever go away. Could I deal with it or would it destroy me?

I put her in Gods hands that day knowing that even if He were angry with me, He would protect and watch over her, because she was his littlest angel. Knowing I could name her, I picked up the pencil and wrote her name; Angel, and handed the slip of paper back to the clerk.

Defeated, I returned home to my life where it had been abruptly left. Failing to make a smooth transition back into school and with my old friends, I made another fateful decision and enter into a marriage of convenience. A subsequent new family consumes me for many years.

When my son died in an auto accident at age 12, the shock of losing him brought back the feelings of when I lost my first-born. The pain was the same, though one was lost to life and one was lost to death.

The morning of my sons funeral, I went out to feed his rabbits. A mother had given birth to her babies but she rejected them. They were lying on the wire mesh where she dragged them from the nest. They were making little crying sounds. I touched them in their naked form, as tears ran down my cheeks, thinking that life can sometimes be so cruel. It revived my promise of long ago to my first-born.

Following the turmoil of a divorce two years later, I was finally free to think about me. I was so wounded from life that I needed to heal. For me to find the healing I sought, meant for me to commence the journey to search, not only my first child, but to find closure and healing. Follow my journey as I successfully struggle through this healing process called search, riding the emotional roller coaster of life.