To the Woman Who Made me a Mom

Hi - 

It's an odd thing, our relationship. We met just over four years ago when you were pregnant with my son. You've given me the greatest gift possible, and yet I don't really know much about you. I think of you so often, wondering how you're doing. I hope you're happy. I hope your life is fulfilling. I feel so grateful to you and so guilty for what you've given up. The feeling is complicated. 

I wanted to be a mom for a long time. We waited for six years, first trying to get pregnant and then waiting to adopt. We had one birth mom choose us and then change her mind once the baby was born. I was weary. I was starting to lose faith that it would ever happen.

I was having lunch with a colleague when I saw the agency's number come up on my phone. The case worker told me we'd been chosen by a birth mom carrying a baby boy. We were told you were due in mid- to late-December. It was the week before Thanksgiving. 

I immediately called my husband, trying not to be too excited. We'd been here before. We met you for breakfast the next week. I was so nervous meeting you. I tried on so many outfits trying hard to not look like I was trying too hard. I liked you immediately. You asked me what we were going to name him. You talked to me like I was the one who was pregnant.

For the next few weeks my husband and I went out to eat. We went to a movie. We lived our childless life for the last time. I decorated for Christmas. I washed baby blankets and tried not to get attached as I folded them. We cautiously picked out the name William. 

On the Saturday morning our son was born, I was in the office wrapping up a few things. My husband was buying me flowers for our wedding anniversary (that same day). I got a text and we got in the car to drive the hour to the hospital. We awkwardly sat in the waiting room. We had no idea what to do. A nurse called us back into a birthing suite. I felt weird having a birthing suite without the birthing part.

The labor and delivery nurse came in to turn on the warmer. She asked me if I wanted to be skin to skin with my new baby, and I put on a hospital gown over my jeans. And all of a sudden she walked in with this tiny 5 pound, 8 ounce bundle that was our son. I cried. My husband cried. He was here.

One of our first photos as a family in the hospital.

At that moment I have to confess: I wasn't thinking about what it was like for you. I was so elated that I was finally a mom. Later that night I was lying in the hospital bed with my son next to me in a bassinet on one side and my husband on the other side in the fold out chair. (He insisted on sleeping in the chair because the bed was for the mom.) I started thinking about you somewhere in the hospital having just given birth to our son. I started crying great, wracking sobs, thinking of the incredible sacrifice you had made. I felt so grateful and so guilty.

That's how I feel when I think of you: grateful and guilty. All of the adoption literature I've read suggests the adoptive mom should reach out to the birth mom because the birth mom feels like a bother. Even though I sent letters and photos quarterly I hesitate to send the occasional photo or video via text. Am I making it worse? Is it something you want? Really I should just ask, but the emotions are so complex.

From his newborn photos. Goodness he was tiny and precious.

Every year when we see you I am a total mess, worrying about how it'll be. And every year it's lovely, and I wonder why I've worried so much. But I know why I worry so much: I want you to be proud of us. I want you to look at our family and know you've made the right decision. 

I love this little guy so, so much. 

I can never thank you enough for the gift of our family. There are not words nor gifts that are adequate. I remember when Will was born, and we bought you a necklace with his birth stone. I felt so silly giving you a necklace when you were giving me the greatest gift of my life. It felt so inconsequential. All I can do is be the best mom that I can possibly be and love my son with every ounce of my being. And every single day I think of you and say a silent prayer of thanks to you, the woman who made me a mom. 

Thank you. Thank you.

With Love,
Samantha