Secret Thoughts of An Adoptive Mother…21 Years Later
I had been married to my then-husband for about a year when we began attempting in earnest to get pregnant. Sadly, we were unsuccessful at every form of conceiving. The “old-fashioned” way didn’t work, nor did six rounds of IUI or two rounds of IVF. Right before I was to begin round three of IVF, an OBGYN friend who was aware of our struggles to conceive reached out and asked if we were open to adopting. He explained he had an unmarried patient in the office who was surprised to find herself six months pregnant and looking for a couple to adopt her child.
The moment I learned this baby existed, the world as I knew it shifted and I no longer cared about getting pregnant. My “soul” focus became doing whatever it took to ensure this baby would be ours. I was certain God meant him to be our child and I was in love with him in exactly the same way I felt, when five years later I carried a baby in my own body. I’m pretty sure that’s how it is for most mothers — regardless of how their babies come to them.
The very first step in the open adoption process is for the birth mother to select the parents who will raise her child. Our initial meeting with our prospective birth mother felt like the job interview of a lifetime or the most important blind date of my life. Even though we were nervous, our genuine desire to become parents and our openness to adoption shined through. We were thrilled when she called to let us know we would be raising her baby.
The moment I learned this baby existed, the world as I knew it shifted and I no longer cared about getting pregnant. My “soul” focus became doing whatever it took to ensure this baby would be ours.
For the most part, the rest of the process was straightforward. This included meetings with attorneys, home inspections, criminal background checks, adoption support groups, parenting classes and payments to various parties. I’ve often thought that the world might be a better place for children if all prospective parents had to jump through some of these hoops before a baby was handed over to them.
Where it became complicated (for me) was navigating the relationship with our birth mother. Perhaps the experience varies with each pairing of mothers, but no one really prepares us for how to navigate the strange dynamics of this relationship. And fathers, I mean no disrespect, but in my experience, it’s the adoptive mothers who are interacting more with the birth mothers.
It’s a strange dance between two women because one holds within her body the thing the other desires more than anything in the world.
It’s a strange dance between two women because one holds within her body the thing the other desires more than anything in the world. I was always acutely aware of the difficult decision she was making and the anguish she was going through. I really wanted to be the shining example of a good and compassionate adoptive mother. I tried my best to show the birth mother that I cared about her as an individual (and I did) and empathize with her difficult choice — while also keeping up my sales pitch for mother of the year so she wouldn’t change her mind. This made for a very strange power dynamic, complicated by the knowledge that once the papers were signed everything would flip.
Our birth mother was “mature” at 26 years of age with limited resources and understood how hard it would be to raise her child as a single parent. I learned in adoption classes that very young pregnant girl are more likely to insist on keeping their babies because they have not yet lived on their own and have no idea how challenging it can be. She wanted her baby to have the best life possible and from her perspective, that included choosing a mother and a father with resources who could give her baby not only a wonderful, loving home but opportunities that she was unable to afford. I think it helped that my ex was a doctor because she had an affinity for medicine and had worked in doctor’s offices.
The morning birth mom went into labor was the best day of my life (the other best day was when my daughter was born). The privilege of being present for the arrival of a new life is the most mind-blowing, amazing, miraculous experience. And because, unlike the birth of my daughter where I was paralyzed on a table having a C-section, I got to see everything that was going on because it was the birth mom doing all the work.
In the state of Nevada, birth mothers are required to wait three days before signing the adoption papers. Then it takes another six months until the adoption is finalized. I can tell you that those three days were the longest of my life. I sat in the hospital nursery rocking “my’’ new baby, waiting for those papers to be signed while chatting with the nurses. Birth mom must have been going through hell herself, but at this moment I was not as concerned about her as I was about her signing the papers, and any adoptive parents who would say otherwise are not telling the truth. This period is the MOST excruciating for everyone involved.
After three days in the hospital, which is a very long stay for a non-complicated birth (24 hours is normal), the birth mom finally signed the papers and was discharged. The nurses then shared that they had all feared she wouldn’t sign and had been so worried for me. You could hear their collective sigh of relief.
So, home we went — MY baby, my mother, and me. As I recall, my now ex-husband was working so it was left to me to figure out how to put a tiny baby in a car seat and drive about 5 miles an hour all the way home. I don’t think I let him out of my arms for at least a week.
I really hoped to be able to help the birth mother through her grief — what she must have been feeling was unimaginable. I promised to send her photos monthly and allow for periodic visits. She had made the ultimate sacrifice and it seemed the least I could do. All these years later I’m still a big believer that with adoption, transparency and honesty are best for children. I’m always surprised to learn when parents choose to keep the adoption a secret from their child — as if it was something negative. From the beginning, we told our baby his unique birth story and we celebrated adoption in every way possible.
I had the best of intentions to do right by birth mom — until things went south. When our baby was not quite two, my husband and I divorced. Birth mom had selected us in part because we were a couple, therefore, I felt like I had broken an implied promise to her.
Then after a few incidents of the birth mom violating our son’s privacy, by divulging to prospective employers in the medical field that she was our son’s birth mother, I stopped sending her updates and photos — which felt to me as if I had broken another promise. I rationalized that because she didn’t appear to be stable it would be best to create some distance. Looking back, I wish I could have extended more grace in the situation.
Because the visits in the early years were solely for her benefit, I thought it best to stop them until we addressed the boundary issues, or until our son was old enough to want to see her. As it goes with co-parenting, we can’t control what one parent does during their custodial time, and my ex chose to continue to facilitate the visits — which created even more division. I suddenly found myself to be the odd man out, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to feeling insecure about my baby having two mothers in his life.
When our beautiful son was six, he began exhibiting serious mental health issues that went on for the next 10 years. During this time, my sole focus shifted to my son’s mental health, and I really stopped caring about his birth mother’s needs. Nothing mattered more to me than his well-being and survival. Navigating the pediatric mental health landscape became a full-time job.
Our son is now 21. I often feel as if I failed him because his childhood did not go as expected. I know in my heart of hearts that his father and I did the very best we could, given the challenges. And now that he is an adult, we recognize that he probably would not have fared as well in another home, because we were better equipped than most to provide for his special needs. We can even see now that because we were divorced, our respective families (there were younger siblings in each of our homes) each got a brief period of respite from our son, who required more attention than all the other children combined.
If I could speak to our son’s birth mother today, I’d want her to know that I am sorry for not reaching out to her to repair our relationship. I just didn’t know how to do so, given the circumstances and the constant struggles we were facing with his health. I’d want her to know that in choosing us to raise her baby, I still believe she gave me the greatest gift I’ve ever been given and that I am eternally grateful. I hope she has had a happy life these past 21 years, and I’m sorry I wasn’t a friend to her as I had promised I’d be.
Sometimes it takes 21 years and some distance to understand the impact of a decision such as adoption on everyone involved. Looking back, I still believe, that regardless of our mistakes and life’s challenges, we were the right set of parents. God doesn’t make mistakes. He knows our son has been deeply loved not only by us, but by his grandparents, siblings, extended family, and of course, his birth mother.
