In honor of birth mother’s day on 5/9 and Mother’s Day on 5/10, I wrote a guest post for the Portland Moms Blog, for whom I hope to be regularly contributing in the future.
I am a wife of ten years, and stay-at-home mother to three little ones under eight. From an outsider’s perspective, I appear to be just an average Christian church-going, minivan-driving, play date-attending mom. But on the inside I have a secret.
It’s not the kind of thing I can share at mom’s group or in PTA meetings. People at church and in prayer circles don’t really want to hear about it. Even most of my family either doesn’t know about it or tries to pretend it never happened.
I am a birth mother.
I stand by the choice I made as a scared, unmarried college student long ago. I believe that the life of that baby boy and my own are better than what they would have been if I hadn’t placed him for adoption.
Because of that choice, I got to hand-pick his family, sign the papers, go back to my babyless life, finish college and grow up. And he got a loving, married mom and dad and a big sister that wanted him and had the means to take care of him.
But years later, when life has moved on, I am married and have my “real” children; it has become almost socially unacceptable to talk about him. After all, he’s not my child. He is just some ghostly shadow that lurks in my past. Always there, but not really there.
I remember as he grew inside me, but I don’t get to raise him. His birth is in my medical record, but his laughter is not in my home. He has my eyes, my face, my hair, but I don’t get to look at them each day. I am his birth mother, but not his mom….Finish reading over at the Portland Moms Blog!