Before everyone gets into an uproar, let me be clear: I love my son. I love him more than almost anyone else in the world, excepting my husband and two children we are raising together.

That being said, I don’t miss him.

I placed five years ago, and the pain is still there. I struggled for two days in the hospital, determining if I really could go through with it, if I could really place him with another mother (and father). I cried through the night before placement, and I begged God to give me another answer. That perfect baby who so dependent on me (I was breastfeeding, also), was my whole world. He was my reason for breathing and my reason for turning my life around.


Still, I don’t miss him.

After placement, I ached to hold him in my empty arms. I would wander my house, not sure what I was looking for. Of course, I was searching for him. I was yearning to fill my days with meaning and purpose; after 9 months of having a very specific purpose, I felt useless.

Yet… I don’t miss him.

I don’t miss him because the baby that I placed is no longer there; he no longer exists. That beautiful, perfect baby that I gave life to has grown into an energetic – and dare I say, wild! – little boy. He loves to get dirty, ride his tricycle and play with his little brother. Although I know him and have seen him numerous times since placement, he is no longer the baby that I placed. The memories of that baby will always live within my heart and they will always be mine.

As I have learned with my own children, those early first months and years go by way too quickly. I am grateful for the two days I had with him in the hospital, because I made so many memories, took hundreds of photos, and secured him in my heart. I then placed him into the loving arms of two people who neither took that baby for granted, nor wasted any time. They loved him so much more than I could have ever hoped, and raised him into the sweet boy he is today.

The funny thing is, he doesn’t really want anything to do with me right now. I saw him about six months ago, and he is at that that age – every parent knows which one I am talking about – where he does NOT want anything to do with anyone. I am basically an abstract person in his life right now, and I am ok with that. Crazy, right? I am not heartbroken that he won’t hug me because I understand that I am a stranger in his life. I am ok with that because I know that his parents tell him his story with love, and let him know every day that his birthmom loves him. When the day eventually comes that he does finally understand which role I played in his life, I will be here with open arms and heart, ready to get to know him and answer any questions.

Until then, I won’t miss him. I don’t have to. I don’t worry about him, or fuss over his life (don’t get me wrong, I LOVE to get updates and hear about him). His parents will do that. I will care for my husband, my feisty two year old and my beautiful six month old, and I will think of the son I placed daily. I will wonder what he is doing, and pray for him… and I will patiently wait for the day that we can sit down together over hot chocolate (hopefully with salted caramel, if tastes are inherited) and build a friendship.

Then, someday, I can miss him. Until then, I will simply miss the baby that is no longer there – and smile at the memories.