Every year, I am given a special day where my family makes me feel cherished. My kids prepare breakfast in bed and present me with handmade gifts. Who wouldn’t appreciate cold toaster waffles and necklaces crafted from pasta?
This brief moment of indulgence is a refreshing escape from the daily grind of snack-making, nose-wiping, and keeping monsters at bay. While I can’t completely abandon my responsibilities, I certainly relish the opportunity to enjoy cold waffles in bed.
The night before Mother’s Day holds a deeper significance for me. It’s a time for introspection about a woman I will never meet. My son is adopted; he was left behind just two days after birth, likely due to medical issues that his birth family couldn’t handle.
I have no knowledge of his origins, genetics, or the circumstances that led to the decision not to parent him. I can’t tell you where he inherited his dimples or his spirited nature. For him, life truly began when we met in a bustling government building at the age of three.
Yet, the story is more intricate than that. My child’s journey didn’t start the moment he joined our family. Though I may never learn about his history, I often reflect on the mother who came before me, and I can almost envision her in my mind’s eye.
This letter is my way of reaching out to an unknown woman who occupies my thoughts on Mother’s Day, birthdays, and many moments in between. During a season when we honor motherhood, your presence is always felt.
I often ponder the reasons behind your decision. I can’t fathom how hard it must have been to leave your sick child behind, hoping for a better life for him. I like to believe you watched from a distance, ensuring that he would be found and cared for by someone who could provide the love he needed.
While I struggle to grasp your choice, I hold no judgment against you. I can only imagine the heartache you experienced that day. I hope that time has eased your pain, although I realize that might be a tall order.
To say I think of you often is an understatement. Are you at peace? Do you think of him? Do you wonder about my role in his life? I wish I could share with you that he is thriving, healthy, and surrounded by love. I wish you could see how deeply I care for him.
He hasn’t asked about you yet, but I know that day will come. I long to communicate with you, to understand what you would want me to share with him about his roots and heritage.
I find myself imagining what you look and sound like. Do you have a spirit of adventure? Are you tall or short, slim or round? I wonder if you have hair that defies gravity, standing up despite your best efforts.
I want you to know that I think of you during our son’s milestones—big ones like his first day of school and small ones like baking chocolate chip cookies together. You are not forgotten. In my own way, I cherish you.
People often say he is lucky; while you may agree, I feel like the fortunate one. I wish you could see how happy and safe he is, and how we will always remember you.
You are the person I wish to meet most, despite knowing that is unlikely. I think about you in still moments, like late nights spent on the couch unable to sleep. Do you ever think of me, too?
Someone once told me that I altered this child’s fate, but I believe he has changed mine. Thank you for the incredible gift you bestowed upon me this Mother’s Day.