A Birthmother’s Message to Other Women: You Are Not Alone

I placed my son for adoption when I was twenty-one, and it was the most painful decision I’ve ever had to make.

I was a student, and I didn’t have much money or any career prospects. My mother had just been diagnosed with breast cancer, and my baby’s father wasn’t really in the picture. I knew that I couldn’t take care of a child. I opted for an open adoption, and I met (and even lived with) my son’s adoptive mother before he was born. I knew it was the right decision for my son’s life at the time, even if it didn’t feel best for mine. I did it for him. Now, he is thriving with his adoptive mother, who is perfect for my son.

As mothers, that’s what we do, right? We make the best decisions we can for our children, even if those decisions break us. And let me tell you, it broke me. I was a self-sabotager. I put myself in dangerous situations because I felt that I didn’t deserve love, and if I couldn’t feel love, I wanted to feel something. I know now that I was spending years to fill a void that didn’t need to be filled. I was making my life decisions, not out of joy and love for my own body, but out of sadness and self-destruction.

Even today, after a long journey of finding my way back to the light, I’m not all the way healed. But I’m better than I was, and I want to share this message with other women who are grieving over their reproductive choices: no matter how lonely you may feel, you are not alone.

Other Women See Your Pain

If you’re a birthmother, I want you to know that I see you. It’s the worst pain you’ve ever felt, right? Living and existing in a completely separate world from your child? You can’t hug or kiss them. You can’t smell them. You can’t cheer them on from the sidelines. Maybe you feel like a vessel—an empty one, when it’s all said and done. I know I did.

But there’s light through all that pain, too, even if it’s hard to see sometimes. I want you to know that you deserve good things in life, too, even though it can be hard to see right now. I know where you’ve been: to hell. The deepest hell, because it was one you had to consciously choose. Whether that was out of love for your child or an understanding of your circumstances or both—that’s no matter. What matters is that you went down a path you knew would be covered in thorns, and you stepped out onto it anyway. You bled.

You did what you had to do.

Maybe you’re not a birthmother. Maybe you’re an adoptive parent. Maybe you chose to keep your child and raise them on your own. Maybe you chose to have an abortion. Again, no matter. Your choices are your choices—as a mother and as a human—and I respect your right to make them. Other women have felt your pain. You and your grief aren’t invisible.

Other People Are Going Through This with You

For much of my life, I thought of this experience as something I went through. But looking back, I realize a lot of people have been scared and scarred in this ordeal besides me. My mom and I got into lots of arguments during my pregnancy, but I realize now that a lot of those arguments happened because she was scared that her child was pregnant and could get hurt. And I know she misses my son, too. We’ve since reconciled from those troubled days. Yes, there will always be fire in our relationship, but there will also always be love.

My son’s mom has had moments of fear, too, no doubt. We have an open adoption agreement, and I have been hurt over the years when she has enforced the strict three visits per year rule. But that comes from a place of love. Just like I’m scared that I could lose rights to my son, she’s probably scared he will wake up one day and say he wants to be with his birthmother. I don’t believe for one second that she ever intentionally made me feel like a vessel; she was doing what she thought was best for my son. We all were.

At the end of the day, my son’s father was a villain in my life for some time. But when I look back, he was scared, too. We were kids, and we had had a one-night stand after a drunken party. Maybe it wasn’t handled the right way, but I understand now where the fear came from. For him, though, he wasn’t carrying the child. He didn’t face any real repercussions. I’ll never forget how he treated me, but I don’t hold any hate in my heart toward him.

The people who sometimes seem like they’re against you during an unexpected pregnancy, actually, aren’t always against you. Sometimes they just don’t know how to handle their fear, anger, confusion, or pain. It doesn’t excuse bad behavior, but it’s also worth recognizing that they are still there (even if you sometimes don’t want them to be). Unexpected pregnancies can be messy situations for everyone, but you may not be as isolated as you feel.

Don’t Be Afraid to Take Up Space

It is a journey. I still have bad days. I still fall down. My pain is my pain, just like your pain is your pain, no matter where it comes from. You are entitled to feel it, to grieve. To crumble on your bathroom floor if you need to. Or any floor. You’re allowed to take up space in this world.

This shit hurts. Let it. Slowly, you can start to let light in little by little. I’m proof that getting there won’t be perfect, but it’s possible.

In the end, we should empower other women. We should help each other when we find ourselves in similar positions. Looking back, if I spoke about my feelings and felt supported enough to reach out in those rough moments, maybe I wouldn’t have felt so alone.

I wish I wouldn’t have gone through those years of having to get high or drunk to talk about my son, of self-destructing because I didn’t know what else to do. I can’t go back in time, but I can go forward. And along the way, I can spread this message. Birthmother isn’t a dirty word. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, guilty about, or in denial over. You made the choices that you had to make. Those choices can be messy, but they can also be beautiful, because in the end, you did what was best. Whatever choice you make, that’s okay; you are still worthy of love. I will stand by you.

For more advice on coping with grief, you can find Finding Hope on Amazon.