Navigating my emotions has become a daily challenge. Some days, I find myself grappling with the love I feel for a woman I should despise, or the hatred I have for someone I ought to appreciate. How is it possible to feel so intensely about a person I’ve never met? Yet, it’s easy to see how this connection exists—we share a bond through my son.
My son was born with drugs in his system, facing severe withdrawal symptoms that resulted in a harrowing stay of over 100 days in the neonatal intensive care unit. His neonatal abstinence score? The highest recorded in the hospital’s history, which is a sobering distinction. I was told he was inconsolable during that time, crying incessantly and reacting intensely to the slightest changes in his environment. The fear surrounding his health was overwhelming.
This is where my internal conflict begins. Should I harbor resentment towards a woman I’ve never encountered for the pain inflicted on my son, or should I feel gratitude for the life she gave him?
I feel anger when I watch my son struggle to articulate his thoughts. I feel frustration when his body moves in ways he can’t control. I remember the day I sat in a doctor’s office and heard the words “autism” directed at my son—it was a moment filled with intense anger towards her. And when he cries from painful cramps, that resentment flares up again.
But it’s not all bitterness; there are moments of love and gratitude too. I cherish the times when my son wraps his little arms around me, claiming he’s outgrown hugs. I feel thankful for the joy he brings into our lives, erupting into laughter and sharing his unique sense of humor. Perhaps that humor is a blend of both of us; perhaps it’s a gift from her as well. In truth, I love her more than I hate her.
Adoption is a profound journey, filled with complexity and emotional weight. You’re entrusted with a child who comes from another woman but becomes part of your heart. I didn’t feel like a hero saving my son; instead, I fell deeply in love with him. He captured my heart, and I embraced the chance to be his family, viewing it as a sacred responsibility.
As someone who is adopted myself and works in child welfare, I feel an added pressure to ensure my son understands his own adoption journey. I share stories about his birth family and the reasons they couldn’t keep him safe. These narratives evolve as he grows, blending in the realities of foster care and his early health struggles. I want him to know that his birth mother loved him then and continues to love him now. Yet, I can’t shake the wish that he loves me more.
Do you see the dilemma? It’s a confusing and intricate battle within me. But amidst the chaos, there’s clarity. Each time I see my son flash that endearing, lopsided smile—likely reminiscent of hers—I’m reminded of the beauty of our shared journey, and the love that surrounds us.
If you’re interested in learning more about adoption stories, you might find this post insightful: A Journey Through Adoption. And for those considering at-home insemination, check out this reputable site for essential kits. For a deeper dive into fertility options, this resource is a must-read.
In summary, my emotions toward my son’s birth mother are a complex tapestry of love and resentment. As I navigate this journey of adoption, I remain committed to fostering a healthy understanding of his story, while continuously working through my own feelings.
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