Mother reunites with daughter she gave up for adoption

Helen Elgas walked into Catholic Charities a different woman 20 years ago.

Pregnant at 26, she was scared and lacked the resources to be a mother.

She gave the baby up for adoption in hopes the little one would have a more fulfilling life.

But Elgas, 49, was always thinking about that girl - the only child, she would learn later on, she could physically have.

She didn't hold the baby. She didn't see the baby. She didn't name the baby. It was too hard.

"I was thinking, 'Should I do this? Shouldn't I do this?' I just wanted her to have a good life," Elgas said.

There wasn't enough money to take care of another mouth.

She didn't want to know the baby's gender, but someone let that slip as she signed her over to the agency.

It was a girl. She always wanted a girl.

Six days later, the baby was placed with a family.

Five years later, Elgas discovered she could no longer bear children. She had given up her only child.

Elgas wrote letters and called social workers to check on the girl. All she knew was that she grew up a tomboy and was doing well.

But in 2009, Elgas walked back into Catholic Charities. Only this time, she left with the daughter she thought she would never have.

The girl is 23 now. Not so little anymore. Her name is Mika Maro. She slings food at a Strip restaurant and has a boyfriend.

The two recently shared their story just before National Adoption Month.

"It was a big thing to meet a complete stranger that gave birth to me," Maro said.

She calls the woman who gave her life "Helen," and Helen's OK with that.

"I told her from Day One, 'I'm not your mom,' " Elgas said. "I'll be your best friend, but you already have a mom. I just gave you life. And that's the way we keep it."

Elgas does call Maro her daughter, but "I don't ever try to be her mom. If she asks my opinion, I'll tell her, but I don't try to mother her. I look at her as a friend."

Maro struggled for years with the decision to reconnect with her biological mother. But she's not bitter or angry. She called Catholic Charities when she was ready.

The two contacted the nonprofit in the same week in search of one another.

Brad Singletary, director of adoption services, said these reunions are "rare but happening more and more in the past 20 years."

He called Elgas' experience "unique." On average, the nonprofit reunites less than one family annually. About 35 children are adopted each year.

"We do have counseling to help them prepare that it may not turn out well or that one person or both people may not be ready," Singletary said.

A social worker at the nonprofit facilitated the family reunion. It was the same social worker who had placed the baby, Maro, into the hands of her adoptive mother two decades ago.

Maro was scared. Two days after calling, they were meeting. She brought flowers. Mostly purple ones.

"I just wanted to meet her," Maro said. "I walked in and was, like, wow. I noticed her eyes. She's got my eyeballs."

They met in a conference room. The tears flowed. There were hugs.

"She was like a deer in the headlights," Elgas said while chuckling and wiping away tears.

It was a relief for Elgas, who worried Maro might not forgive her for the adoption.

"That was one of my biggest fears, that she was going to hate me," Elgas said, choking back more tears.

"She did ask me, 'Why?' when I first met her. She's never held it against me."

Elgas serves as a mentor of sorts to young birth mothers and shares her story with adoptive families.

"When I found out the great life she had, it solidified why I did it. (Maro) had a great life, better than what I could have given her."

Contact reporter Kristi Jourdan at kjourdan@reviewjournal.com or 383-0440.