Adoptive Mothers Are Just Mothers.

I’ve been seeing a lot of mothers’ day posts going around.  Well, really, I have seen two.  I just keep seeing them.  One is asking moms to post a picture of their pregnancy, their infant children and their children now.  The other is a survey about the delivery and birth of their first child.  I have four kids, but right away, I can’t participate.

I don’t begrudge anyone their memories of those special moments.  And I truly treasure my memories of adopting my children.  I don’t treasure all the fun adjustment struggles that followed, but still.  And I can imagine how amazing the experience of giving birth would be.  I’m sure that not all of the parts are amazing, but the miracle of birth and life, that’s pretty epic.  And I can’t compete with that.  But, it was amazing to be told that our boys were ours as a judge ceremoniously slammed his gavel.  (I assume that he did, some of it was a blur)  And it was amazing and indescribably relieving to be told after a year of uncertainty that our daughter was our daughter forever.


But, the reality is that Brian and I never got to experience what you experienced because of some random decision by Mother Nature, God, or the man in the moon.  And it hurts us.  It hurts a lot.  I have to add before anyone wonders if I would trade my children for the biological experience.  The answer is no.  I am 100% committed to them and so grateful that they are mine.  But, honestly, what I do wish is that they were my biological children.  I wish that I could have had them from the beginning, held them in my arms as babies, spared them any moments of living without a mother and father who loved them, kept them from ever having to be asked about their “real mom,” (Seriously, world, stop using that term.), and to just have every single memory that I could have with them.  Because just like the universe brought us together, it also robbed us of some of their moments.  I wish I had those.  And, of course, I want to be able to post a darn picture of me looking bloated and uncomfortable (and not just because I was premenstrual, haha)!


I know that I probably sound all  overly-sensitive and what not.  And, I am, of course. 🙂 It’s just that I waited years to be part of this club and over the last few days, I felt a little left out of it.  I’m not asking for special treatment because I adopted my children.  I’m just asking for you to realize that I am a mom, too.  And to remember that adoption is a legitimate way of becoming a mother.  It was a choice that I made.  And if I feel a little left out, my kids might feel that way, too.  And, honestly, that’s what I’d like the world to remember more.  I can only imagine how it feels for them to know that someone else gave birth to them.  And, in our case, that person made some really questionable choices so that must be even more confusing.  I don’t know how much they think about the fact that I am not their biological mom and if that messes with their heads.  I don’t know but I know that they must think about it more than they let on.  I know that because smart people, in articles that I have read, said so! 😉


Before I get too off-track, let me just say that I am a mom.  You are a mom.  The similarities in those roles greatly out-weigh the differences.  And the magnitude of that role is bigger than the way we got those roles.  So fill out your surveys.  I don’t blame you, I would.  But, if you see a post floating around that is a little more inclusive, maybe post that one, too?  Because I love to talk about my kids, I think everyone has picked up on that!  We don’t need to be specially included when posting about different kinds of moms.  We are not one step up from fur-moms and single dads.  Not hating on fur-moms, though, cause I sure love my fur babies!  But, the point is I am their mom.  Not their adoptive mom.  And you are not their biological mom. You are just their mom.  We are moms.  And I might not be able to tell you about my epidural or how long I was in labor, but I know what it’s like to wrestle my child into his shoes, endure a public tantrum, panic because my teenager is out past curfew and I’m imagining the worst, question every choice I make, wonder how I’m going to make it through the day, and moments later, marvel at how amazing they are.

And, it might seem silly to get this deep over a few silly facebook posts but I worry that it is indicative of how society views adopted children.  Different.  Not bad.  Just different.  Well, kids feel different enough, no matter who they are.  Mine are particularly in trouble because they are stuck with this nutty lady for a mom.

Luckily, they are a little nutty, too! 😉

So let’s just make them feel a little less different.  It’s not enough to treat us the same, but it’s a start!  But, please, also, think of us as the same.



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