Abbi Johnson, a florist from North Carolina, has been grappling with her past for the last 17 years. In 2008, at just 17 years old, Abbi made the heart-wrenching decision to place her newborn son for adoption after residing at the controversial Liberty Godparent Home in Lynchburg, Virginia. Despite being a mother of three now, she reveals, “There’s not a single day that goes by that he’s not on my heart and on my mind.” The emotional impact of her choice continues to reverberate through her life.
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The Liberty Godparent Home, founded in 1982 by the late televangelist Dr. Jerry Falwell, has been a focal point of controversy over the years. Once located on the campus of Liberty University, this establishment aimed to provide care for young, expectant mothers. However, accounts from former residents, like Abbi, highlight a troubling atmosphere where they felt coerced into giving up their children, often to couples that adhered to the strict conservative values espoused by Falwell and his followers.

In a recent issue of PEOPLE magazine, several women shared similar experiences of pressure and manipulation, with many expressing the pervasive sense of shame that accompanied their decisions. As T.J. Raphael, the creator of the investigative podcast “Liberty Lost,” explains, these young women were made to believe they had sinned and were unworthy. For many, the adoption process became a convoluted pathway to perceived redemption.

Abbi’s journey began in Charlotte, North Carolina, where she was raised in an Evangelical family and homeschooled to seek her parents’ approval. Her first encounter with love, a relationship with Nathan, soon became complicated when she discovered her pregnancy in 2007. Faced with denial, Abbi hid the pregnancy test but ultimately could not conceal her situation from her family.
When Abbi revealed her pregnancy, her parents reacted with disapproval. They insisted that an adoption was the only acceptable option, leading to her confinement in the Liberty Godparent Home. There, her sense of autonomy was severely restricted. The residence was described by Abbi as having locks on doors and windows, while the rules enforced a tight regimen of chores and limited communication with the outside world.
The home made it clear that pregnant residents were expected to consider adoption as a viable alternative. Abbi recalls feeling increasingly isolated and dismissed, even as she voiced her desire to raise her son. “It makes you feel like a caged animal,” she lamented. The environment created feelings of hopelessness and a palpable lack of support, pushing Abbi further into despair.
When Abbi gave birth, she lived in three fleeting days of joy with her child, desperately clinging to him, hoping to etch every moment into memory before his transfer to adoptive parents. “It felt like people should be feeling what I was feeling, and I just couldn’t understand the isolation of my trauma,” she reflected on the day her baby was taken away. Her heartache was compounded by the harsh reality that the adoption was finalised shortly after, despite her pleas for clarity and agency.
Even after marrying Nathan and expanding their family, Abbi’s sense of loss remained a part of her life. Now separated from her husband, she noted how her former relationship was marred by the persistent sadness surrounding their first child. Abbi and Nathan have been allowed limited interaction with their son, controlled by the adoptive family, which has only deepened her feelings of grief and frustration. “I’ve never been allowed to be alone with him,” she shared, highlighting the constraints imposed on her contact with her firstborn.
As years progressed, Abbi sought to have more honest discussions with her son about their situation. When he was 14, she approached the adoptive parents for permission to communicate directly, hoping to express her deep love and advocacy for him. However, this led to the adoptive family cutting off all contact, leaving Abbi shattered.
The pain of relinquishing parental rights is not unique to Abbi; it reflects a broader narrative of mothers who have had to surrender their children under similar circumstances. Ann Fessler, author of “The Girls Who Went Away,” catalogues the experiences of numerous women forced to part with their children from the late 1940s to the 1970s. She posits that such traumatic decisions leave indelible marks on mothers’ lives, shaping their future choices and emotional well-being.
In sharing her own story, Abbi highlights the ongoing struggles faced by birth mothers who feel coerced into relinquishing their children. “We really want our children to be okay,” she points out, adding that the pressures and societal stigma often push mothers toward this painful path. Now studying to become a therapist, Abbi aims to help others heal from similar traumas, hopeful of breaking the silence surrounding the profound mental and emotional impacts of adoption under duress.
