This moment captures a significant turning point in my life: my daughter’s birth mother, Sarah, was experiencing the first pangs of labor. I was on a spring break getaway, blissfully unaware that the story of my daughter, Mia, was unfolding at that very moment. While I indulged in custard outside a local shop on a chilly St. Louis evening, Mia was entering the world, and another mother was laboring through her pain and joy.
I often hear the term “real mom” thrown around in conversations about adoption, typically when discussing biological parents or in attempts to affirm the permanence of adoptive mothers. But who truly deserves that title? Who is the real mother?
Here’s what I can share: 11 months before Mia was born, I experienced the heart-wrenching loss of a child I carried for eight months. I never got to bring him home or watch him grow. Yet, I felt every kick, knew the sound of my heartbeat resonating with his. I held him, and I loved him deeply.
Does that make me any less of his “real mom” simply because he’s not in my arms today? Absolutely not. My motherhood was authentic, deeply felt, and beautifully painful. I will forever remember how old he would be today, and the ache in my heart reminds me every time I see a toddler who would be his age.
I know that Mia will always live in Sarah’s heart and thoughts. She will know the milestones, the stages of growth, and what she has missed. Just as I still feel the connection to my son, I am certain that Sarah’s motherhood is equally real and profound.
But what about my role? I was there for Mia 15 hours after her birth. I was the one who held her in the NICU, who sang to her, and who whispered “Mama’s here,” even as she searched for the familiar sound of her first mother’s voice. I was the one who set alarms to feed her every three hours and who celebrated her giggles. I even jokingly declared myself the “real mama” after a successful attempt at using a nasal aspirator.
So who holds the title of “real mom”? The answer is straightforward: both of us. Sarah carried Mia for nine months, felt her movements, and made choices that shaped her future. Her motherhood was undeniably real.
After my son, Leo, passed away, I returned home from the hospital with pamphlets that coldly reminded me, “Your body doesn’t realize your baby died.” The shock and heartache of those early days were overwhelming. As I welcomed Mia into our home, my thoughts often drifted back to Sarah. I knew she was recovering from her own delivery, just as I had, feeling that same void.
My bond with Sarah is profound and enduring. I often find myself wishing to convey to her how cherished Mia is. I want her to know that every milestone is celebrated with love and joy. Our little girl is surrounded by affection, and I hope Sarah sees how happy she is.
In September, a judge officially recognized my husband and me as Mia’s legal parents. We are her forever family, but I will always acknowledge the love and sacrifice of her first mother.
You see, our baby is loved immensely.
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Summary
In this heartfelt reflection, Emily Parker shares her journey of motherhood and her deep connection with her daughter’s birth mother, Sarah. Through the pain of loss and the joy of adoption, she explores the complex emotions surrounding motherhood, affirming that both she and Sarah hold significant roles in their daughter’s life. This piece highlights the enduring love that spans across different forms of motherhood.
Keyphrase: Adoption and Motherhood
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