“Do you have any children?” the woman next to me asked as she lovingly cradled her sleeping toddler. I felt a wave of sadness wash over me. “I’m a caregiver,” I replied, gesturing to the three kids I had brought to the park, before making a hasty exit to “check on them.” I was weary of waiting for my turn to be a mom. It seemed like everyone around me was effortlessly having children, producing adorable little ones with cherubic features and infectious smiles. And then there were the expectant mothers everywhere, rubbing their growing bellies and sharing their midnight cravings and family drama. Even in my own home, I couldn’t escape the reminders of motherhood. The TV commercials showcasing babies, the baby shower invites flooding my mailbox, and the catchy song on the radio celebrating love and family made it all the more painful.
My path to motherhood was filled with obstacles that could rival the most dramatic Lifetime movie. After enduring a mysterious illness for over a year, I was diagnosed with a severe autoimmune disorder. It was during a hospital stay that my husband and I made the life-changing decision to adopt. While choosing to adopt felt like a clear choice, the waiting that followed was agonizing. Adoption is not as simple as “just adopting,” despite what some may suggest. It involves extensive paperwork, background checks, home evaluations, and interviews, not to mention the financial burden. The waiting—sometimes lasting years—for the call that would finally make me a mother was excruciating. Meanwhile, I watched others become mothers multiple times, while I stood by feeling heartbroken.
The reality is, I’m not alone. There are countless “other mothers” who experience similar heartache each Mother’s Day and every day. There are foster mothers selflessly caring for children who aren’t their own, women who have suffered the pain of miscarriage, those mourning the loss of children at any age, and birth mothers who carry the weight of their decisions long after placement. Even surrogates, who generously offer their bodies to help others, can grieve the babies they carried.
I eventually had the privilege of becoming a mother myself—first to two daughters, then a son, and another daughter. Each adoption came with its unique challenges, reminding me that my kids have first mothers, whom we honor every Mother’s Day. To all the “other moms,” know that you are in my thoughts this Mother’s Day. I recognize your pain, vulnerability, and the weight of your loss. Your experiences matter, and however you choose to observe this day is completely valid.
For those seeking support and information on pregnancy, I recommend visiting CDC’s infertility resource, as it’s an excellent starting point. If you’re interested in boosting your fertility, check out our article on fertility supplements. You might also want to explore intimate moments for further insights.
In summary, Mother’s Day is a complex day for many, filled with joy for some and sorrow for others. Recognizing all types of mothers—biological, adoptive, foster, and those who have faced loss—is essential. Every story deserves acknowledgment, and every mother’s journey is unique and significant.