“I do not want an open adoption, that seems weird and unhealthy.”
We said those words in agreement two years before our first son was born and adopted. It was after we first met with a local adoption/pregnancy counselor, wondering what a local adoption would look like, and all she did was rave and enthuse over how “healthy,” “beautiful,” and “good” open adoption was.
We left that meeting at our local downtown Starbucks shaking our heads, saying how crazy that counselor was. We could not see ourselves opening our family and life to “some lady.”
Fast forward to today: Our son is 9 months young, adopted domestically and at birth, and we miss his birth mom. We mainly call her Tummy Mama, because when I asked her, that was the name she liked best.
Our adoption began as semi-open, contact solely through the agency. Today, we have one another’s cell phone numbers and text quite a bit! Our relationship is already more than I would have ever imagined and I pray for it to only grow.
After our heart’s feet took their first few steps onto the path that is adoption, we realized pretty quickly how much we desired a semi-open to open adoption. We no longer desired a closed adoption. Over the course of nine months we prepared our hearts and our home for the adoption of our sweet son and during that time of preparation, experienced major heart transformation in what we desired as a relationship with our child’s birth family.
We were matched with our son one day after he was born, met him and his birth mom, and offered pretty much as open of a relationship as she was willing to have. Emails exchanged and promises of packages to be sent, we hugged goodbye, sharing tears and a deep love for the same son one week later.
We exchanged words and pictures via email for months, and then the return emails slowed, eventually coming to a complete stop. Silence filled my inbox where I craved to see her name. I continued to send emails with the hope and prayer that we would hear back eventually. I won’t for one second pretend that I understand the grief birth mamas walk through.
A deep well of sadness began to form and one day it hit me: I miss my son’s birth mom. I miss her. I miss her emails, her pictures, her love for the son we both adore, I miss her.
So I continued sending emails and updates, hoping and praying to one day hear back. I offer to help figure out a way for her to visit us, if she ever so desires to. I send my phone number, thinking maybe texting would be more accessible for her.
One day I received a text from her. We began texting and an even deeper sense of appreciation for this brave woman surfaced in me.
Our unique relationship is so special to me and I crave for it to continue to grow.
I miss her because I love her. I love her because she is half of my son’s biological make-up, she gave him life, she placed him into our hands, and she chose to trust us with a fragile life that she loves more than her own.
I asked my husband, “Why do you miss our son’s birth mom?” His answer? It melted my heart. He said: “Because she gives us a fuller picture of who he is; she is a part of him, a part of the little man we love so much, a part of the boy who made us parents.”
She is forever a part of our family, no matter what, and we hope to hug her once again.
I’m a mama by adoption and biology, and I miss my son’s birth mom more than I ever anticipated.