Every year, there is a designated day when my family celebrates me. My children treat me to breakfast in bed and present me with handmade jewelry. Who can resist cold toaster waffles and necklaces crafted from macaroni? This brief moment that shines a spotlight on me is a welcome diversion from my daily routine of preparing snacks, tending to runny noses, and keeping an eye out for imaginary monsters lurking in closets. While I can’t take a full day off from these responsibilities, I do cherish my few moments of relaxation over those cold waffles.
However, the night before Mother’s Day carries a heavier significance for me. It’s a time of introspection as I think about a woman I may never meet. My son is adopted; he was left behind at just two days old, likely due to medical challenges that his birth family could not manage.
I have no information about his early life, his genetic background, or the circumstances leading to the decision not to parent him. I often ponder where he inherited his charming dimples or his tenacity. In many ways, his life took on new meaning the day we met at a bustling government office when he was three years old.
Yet, the complexity of his life story runs deeper than that. His journey did not begin with our meeting. Although I may never learn about his origins, I find it necessary to honor the mother who came before me. I can almost visualize her presence in my mind.
So, I write this letter to an unknown woman who occupies my thoughts on Mother’s Day, birthdays, holidays, and countless days in between. During a season dedicated to celebrating motherhood, my son’s birth mother is always in my heart.
I have spent considerable time contemplating your choice. I can’t imagine the pain of walking away from your sick child, hoping he would find a better life. I like to think you watched from afar, ensuring that he was discovered by a caring stranger who would provide him with safety.
While I may not fully comprehend your decision, I hold no judgment. I realize that it must have been incredibly difficult to leave behind a child you nurtured for nine months. I hope that, over time, your feelings of grief have eased, although I know that may be a tall order.
To say you are often on my mind is an understatement. I wonder if you’ve found peace. Do you think about him? Do you find yourself wondering about me? I wish I could convey to you that he is happy, healthy, and flourishing. I wish you could see the depth of my love for this child.
He doesn’t inquire about you yet, but I know that day will come. If only I could share with you what you would want me to tell him about you and the heritage you’d want him to embrace.
I often imagine what you look like, how you sound. Do you have a sense of adventure that leads you into amusing predicaments? I think about your hair—does it have a mind of its own?
I wish you knew that I think of you during our son’s milestones—big events like starting school and riding his bike, as well as smaller moments like baking chocolate chip cookies together. I want you to know that you are not forgotten; in my own way, I carry a love for you.
People often say he is fortunate, and while you may agree, I believe I am the truly lucky one. I wish you could understand how joyful and secure he is and that he will always remember you.
You are the one person I would most like to meet, even though I know that’s not possible. I often think about you in the quiet hours of the night, wondering if you think of me in the same way.
Someone once remarked that I changed this child’s destiny, but I believe he has altered mine, as have you. Thank you for the incredible gift you have given me this Mother’s Day.
In summary, this letter is a heartfelt acknowledgment of my son’s birth mother, a woman whose choices and sacrifices have profoundly impacted our lives. On this special day, I reflect on the intertwining paths of motherhood, love, and gratitude, emphasizing the importance of honoring the origins of our children while celebrating the bonds we create with them.
Keyphrase: Letter to my son’s birth mother on Mother’s Day
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