I originally published this article, Sacrifice of Motherhood, in 2013. I re-publish each year on Mother’s Day as a reminder and a way to honor the woman who gave me life.
Mother’s Day is typically a day to shower the maternal role models in our lives with love, praises and gifts.
For some it’s a day to remember their mothers and grandmothers who may be gone physically but whose memories and legacies live on.
I spend the day with my family – my mother, aunts or girlfriends who are on this journey of motherhood alongside me. But there’s a fleeting moment when my mind drifts to an unknown place to focus on an unknown face.
The woman who carried me in her womb for months and then gave a loving couple the gift of parenthood.
Growing up “adoption”, it seemed, was a taboo subject in our society. I hid it like my own personal scarlet letter. It was rarely discussed – yet I always knew. Often when people found out there immediate response was “I’m sorry” – my response “I’m not”
I never really thought about where I got my eyes or why I disliked pizza – I grew up surrounded by and enveloped in love.
[Tweet “Sacrifice of Motherhood – An Adopted Child’s POV: I grew up surrounded by love – never the outsider”]
Then I celebrated my first Mother’s Day. Carrying my oldest son in my womb and feeling him do somersaults. Watching his little feet press against my belly. Singing and talking to this being growing inside me that I couldn’t wait to meet, to hold, to love and to protect forever and a day.
True Sacrifice of Motherhood – Releasing to Receive
The emotions and questions came quite suddenly. I realized the true value of the sacrifice that had been made. She chose to give me life and I’m forever grateful. I have no idea what the circumstances were surrounding the pregnancy and decision to choose adoption. I do realize, recognize and respect that there were options and the choices made by several individuals led to me being where I am, who I am and what I am today.
There’s no anger or angst. There’s no feeling of having missed out or being “not whole”. Quite the opposite. My life is full. I have a large, loving, and sometimes overbearing family. In this moment when my thoughts float to the woman who birthed me – there’s peace and gratitude.
My hope and prayer is that is she has those same feelings.
Motherhood is sacrifice and she provided me with my first lesson.
[Tweet “Motherhood is a sacrifice and the woman who birthed me gave me my first lesson”]