Once a year, I am treated to a day that feels like it revolves around me. My kids delight in serving me breakfast in bed and gifting me with handmade jewelry. Who wouldn’t appreciate a cold toaster waffle alongside a necklace crafted from elbow macaroni? This fleeting moment of being pampered offers a refreshing break from the daily grind of preparing snacks, wiping away tears, and slaying imaginary monsters lurking in the closet. While I can’t completely escape the chaos of motherhood, I cherish these brief moments of relaxation over my less-than-gourmet breakfast.
The night before Mother’s Day, however, takes on a more somber tone. It’s a time for reflection, a moment to think about a woman I will likely never meet. My son was adopted. Abandoned at just two days old, he entered this world with medical needs that perhaps his birth family couldn’t manage.
I know little about his beginnings. I have no insight into the circumstances that led to the difficult choice of not parenting him. I can only guess where he inherited his charming dimples or his tenacious spirit. In many ways, his life truly began when I first held him in my arms three years later, in a bustling government building.
Yet, the reality is more complex. His journey didn’t start with me. Though I may never fully understand his origins, I still hold space in my heart for the mother who came before me. I can almost picture her, a shadow in my thoughts.
And so, I pen this letter to a mother I have never met, yet who remains in my heart every Mother’s Day, every birthday, and throughout the year. During this special time dedicated to celebrating mothers, I cannot help but think of my son’s birth mother.
I often find myself pondering the reasons behind your decision. I can’t fathom how heart-wrenching it must have been to walk away from your sick child, hoping he would find a better life. I like to believe you watched from the shadows, ensuring that someone noticed your precious baby and would keep him safe.
While I may not understand your choice, I do not judge you. I can only imagine the tears you shed that day. I truly hope that with time, your pain and guilt have eased, although I realize that may be a wishful thought.
To say that I think of you often would be an understatement. I wonder if you are at peace. Do you ever think about him? Do you think of me? I wish I could tell you that he is happy, healthy, and thriving. I wish you knew how deeply I love this child.
He hasn’t asked about you yet, but I know that day will come. I wish I could converse with you and understand what you would want me to share with him about his heritage.
I spend countless hours imagining what you might look like or sound like. I wonder if you possess a daring spirit that leads you into adventures or if you have quirky dance moves. I ponder your height and build, and if your hair has that one unruly strand that refuses to stay down.
I want you to know that I think of you during our son’s milestones—both the monumental moments like his first day of school and the small joys, like baking chocolate chip cookies together. I wish you could see that you are not forgotten and that in my own way, I love you.
People often say he is lucky, and while you might agree, I want you to know that I feel like the fortunate one. I wish you could see how happy and safe he is, and that we will always remember you.
You are the person I would most like to meet, even though I understand that it’s unlikely. I think of you during those quiet moments when sleep eludes me, wondering if you think of me in the same way.
Someone once remarked that I changed this child’s destiny, but I believe he changed mine—and so did you. Thank you for the incredible gift you gave me this Mother’s Day.
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Summary
This heartfelt letter reflects on the complexities of motherhood, particularly for adoptive parents, while honoring the birth mother. It captures the emotions tied to Mother’s Day and the connection felt towards a biological mother who made an incredibly difficult choice.
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