Adoption, birth mom, family, infertility, Uncategorized

Still I Mourn…


Funny how emotions of life events follow you throughout your life. They creep up and take your breath away when you least expect them to. Things you thought you had resolved and come to terms with suddenly hurt. Things that make you cry out of nowhere. Things that you have no control over. Things that God chose for YOU to go through. Somehow these things are supposed to make you grow and learn from them. Things that make you appreciate a new path – a path that never crossed your mind yet you can’t imagine not taking it.  Emotions that are buried so deep in your heart – that if you let them up and out for the world to see – you may not know how to stop them. So they stay tucked away neatly. The world sees your smile, silliness and positive attitude…not the sadness, frustration and anger that still resides deep down.

I got pregnant, shared the news, carried the baby to term and gave birth. All the joys a woman is blessed  go through. But I got pregnant (accidentally), I wasn’t married…wasn’t old enough to be a mom. I shared the news after 6 months along because my mom got it out of me. I carried a baby to term because I chose adoption. A situation that was unplanned. Did I love the baby boy – of course! More than anything…that is why I chose adoption…knowing I could not be what he needed. Today I know him – a wonderful 26 year old young man. We have so much in common and have a relationship. I AM blessed with that. I am thankful everyday that we met and are in each other’s lives.

What do I mourn? I mourn never having the chance to have a baby. I did have that event in my life – but because of timing and the situation I didn’t get to experience the joy of it – I had to remove the typical emotion so I could give him up. I couldn’t feel all the wonderfulness of it because I loved so much. After 6 years of infertility treatment – to receive the news – TA DA! – I will never get pregnant. Going through the anger and sadness of that devastating news – closing that door and moving onto our new path of adoption – which was beautiful and remarkable and loved every step of that journey. But I mourn that I will never get to see the look in my husband’s eyes when I tell him we are going to have a baby. I will never get to see the excitement in my family’s eyes – sure they were excited about my beautiful girls, but it is different. I will never know what it is like to have a baby that looks like me or my husband – or “Looks a lot like so and so when they were little” – No old family photos that resemble a child. It does hurt and still feels raw at times. Like another X on my list of failures…Would I want to be pregnant now at 45 – absolutely not. That door has closed. I just mourn the “what if” of it all.

I am sure to some it sounds like I don’t appreciate my two beautiful girls and what I DO have – I do. I love them more than anything. They are every bit my daughters as they could be. They are not and will never be the “consolation prize” – adopting them is a whole different area of life with different feelings and emotions than the loss part. How does one balance the sadness and the mourning and yet be grateful, happy and blessed with the gifts? I don’t doubt God and his splendor – showing me the receiving end of adoption – knowing how it feels to be blessed with a baby that was given up out of love – not once, but twice….just wonder why the sadness still lingers deep in my soul…..


1 thought on “Still I Mourn…”

  1. I believe that when most children are grown they think of their birth mother with ever growing wisdom and in the spirit of forgiveness…
    The Adopted Child

    Somebody’s adopted child today
    Will linger all alone
    Hoping her birth mother will call
    Before the day has flown.
    Somebody’s adopted child will weep,
    Heartbroken and stunned tonight,
    Because her first mother gone
    Forgot to call or write.
    Somebody’s adopted child somewhere
    Will kiss with lips of grief,
    Portraits of a birth mother unknown
    And cry herself to sleep.

    Judith Land

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