When this photo was taken, my daughter’s birth mother was experiencing the initial pangs of labor. We were enjoying a spring break getaway, blissfully unaware of the life-changing moment unfolding elsewhere. It’s easy to think my daughter Mia’s journey began when I received that midnight call, but the reality is, while I was savoring custard on a chilly night in St. Louis, another mother was laboring to bring her into this world. She was feeling the intensity of contractions, the transition from pregnancy to motherhood.
The term “real mom” often arises in conversations about adoption, typically referring to biological parents or sometimes affirming the role of adoptive parents. But who truly holds the title of “real mother”?
Here’s what I understand: eleven months prior to Mia’s birth, I gave birth to a child whom I only knew during the eight months of my pregnancy and for a few hours after delivery. Though I didn’t take him home or witness his growth, I felt his every movement, and he recognized my voice and heartbeat. I held him close, and his face is forever etched in my memory.
Does that make me any less his “real mom” because he’s not with me now? The answer is a resounding no. My motherhood was profoundly real. I was his mother, and I continue to be. No day will pass without me remembering how old he would be now, and my heart aches every time I see a toddler around his age.
Equally, I know Mia will always be in her birth mother’s heart. She will always be aware of Mia’s milestones and the life she’s missing. Her motherhood is undeniably real too.
So, what about my role? I became part of Mia’s life when she was just 15 hours old. I was the one who gently untangled her from wires in the NICU to hold her skin-to-skin. I sang to her, prayed over her, and soothed her, even while knowing she was searching for a different voice, a different heartbeat. I set my alarm to feed her every three hours and worried about every little sound she made. I’m the one she reaches for, the one who can elicit her giggles. I even jokingly told my partner, “Okay, I’m officially the real mama now” after using a “nose Frida” for the first time.
But again, who is the true mother? The answer is both of us. Mia’s birth mother carried her for nine months, feeling her movements and giving her life, paving the way for her future. Her motherhood was as real as mine.
After my son, Leo, was born, I returned home from the hospital with brochures that said, “Your body doesn’t know your baby died.” The shock and agony of those early days without him still take my breath away. When I brought Mia home, I couldn’t help but think of her birth mother, enduring her own recovery, mourning the absence of her baby. Though our circumstances were different, the pain of separation was similar.
My heart is permanently intertwined with Mia’s birth mother. I often find myself wishing to communicate with her, expressing: “Do you see this precious baby? Do you see the joy she brings? She is cherished beyond measure.” Every milestone she achieves is a moment I want to share, a moment to say, “Look at her!” It’s almost comical how much we adore this little girl; she has an entire entourage of love surrounding her.
In September, Mia’s adoption was finalized, and her birth certificate now lists my partner and me as her legal parents. We are her forever family, the only home she will know. A judge affirmed what my heart already knew: I am her real mother. Yet, I will always recognize that I am not the only one who loves her. Another mother loved her first and continues to hold a special place in my heart.
Your baby is so loved. My baby is so loved. Our baby is so loved. If you’re interested in learning more about the intricacies of motherhood and adoption, check out some of our other blog posts, like this one on home insemination. And for more insights, visit Intracervical Insemination, an authority on the subject. For thorough information on pregnancy and home insemination, this resource is incredibly helpful.
Summary
This piece explores the deep love and empathy the author feels for her daughter’s birth mother. It reflects on the complexities of motherhood, highlighting that both birth and adoptive mothers have valid experiences and emotions. The narrative emphasizes the shared love for the child, Mia, and her birth mother while celebrating the unique bond formed through adoption.