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Year:
1984 Age: 24
Doctor: "How can I help
you?"
Me: "...."
Beginning to cry....trying to speak.
Doctor: "Take your
time."
Me: More crying...
I did finally
manage to say something to that poor, unsuspecting doctor. It all came out
eventually. The details of the teenage pregnancy, the adoption, how it wasn't talked
about, the anniversary depression. He seemed strangely moved by my story. It
triggered from him a twenty minute monologue on the tragedy of teenage pregnancy and the
damage it does psychologically not to grieve the loss of a child through adoption.
He didn't tell me anything I didn't know already, but I came away feeling cared for.
He had listened. He had empathised. I felt comforted. God was at work again.
But I still didn't
know it.
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 He didn't tell me anything I didn't know already,
but I came away feeling cared for. He had listened.
He had empathised. I felt comforted. God was at work again.
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