Once a year, there’s a day dedicated to celebrating me—well, at least that’s how my family likes to frame it. My kids whip up breakfast in bed, usually featuring cold toaster waffles and necklaces crafted from elbow macaroni. Who wouldn’t enjoy that delightful chaos?
For a brief moment, I get to take a break from the endless cycle of snack-making, booger-wiping, and monster patrol in the bedroom. It’s a fleeting but much-appreciated pause in the daily whirlwind of motherhood.
But the night before Mother’s Day, my thoughts turn serious. I find myself reflecting on a woman I’ll never meet. My son was adopted, abandoned just two days after birth, likely due to medical challenges his birth family could not manage.
I don’t know the intricacies of his beginnings or the reasons behind the decision not to parent. I lack any insight into where he inherited his dimples or his stubborn personality. In many ways, his life truly began when we first met in a crowded government office at the age of three.
Yet, the truth is more complex. His journey didn’t start with me, and I often think of the mother who came before. I can almost catch a glimpse of her in my imagination.
Thus, I pen this letter to an unknown mother who lingers in my thoughts every Mother’s Day, every birthday, and countless other days along the way. As we take time to celebrate motherhood, your presence is always felt.
I wonder about the choice you made. Leaving your sick child must have been heart-wrenching, yet I hope you were able to find a way to trust that he would be safe and loved. I picture you watching from afar, ensuring he was found by someone who would care for him.
While I can’t fully comprehend your decision, I don’t judge you for it. I recognize that walking away must have been one of the hardest things you’ve ever done. I hope that, with time, your pain has lessened—a wish that may be too optimistic.
To say you’re often on my mind is an understatement. I think about your well-being. Do you find peace? Do you ever think of him? I wish I could let you know that he is happy, healthy, and thriving. I want you to understand how deeply I love this child.
Currently, he doesn’t ask about you, but I know that day is coming. I long to communicate with you, to learn what you would want him to know about you and his heritage.
I spend time imagining your appearance and voice. Are you adventurous? Do you have a flair for dance? I wonder about your height and build, and if you have a signature hairdo that defies gravity.
I hope you know that you’re in my thoughts during every milestone—big and small—that he experiences. From riding his bike to baking chocolate chip cookies, your influence is felt in our lives. You are not forgotten, and in my own way, I love you.
People often say he is lucky, but I feel like the fortunate one. I wish you could see how happy and secure he is, and that we will always remember you.
You are the one I would love to meet, even if that’s impossible. I often find myself awake at three in the morning, wondering if you think of me too.
Someone once told me that I changed this child’s destiny. In truth, he changed mine—and so did you. Thank you for the incredible gift you’ve given me this Mother’s Day.
If you’re interested in more about home insemination and the journey to parenthood, check out resources like Women’s Health for excellent information. And if you’re considering options for home insemination, visit Make A Mom’s BabyMaker Kit or the Cryobaby Kit to learn more.
In summary, this letter is a heartfelt tribute to my son’s birth mother, acknowledging her profound impact on our lives. I honor her decision and cherish the beautiful gift she has given me.
Keyphrase: Letter to My Son’s Birth Mother
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