The Birthmother: exploring the adoption experience with kids

This is a post I've written over and over in my head for years. It's a hard but necessary topic to discuss and one that involves strong opinions from everyone involved. This is just my own experience and I realize that each adoption situation is different. YMMV. The experience for one birthmother, parent or child's experience will not be the same for the next. Even within the same family. So keep that in mind as you read.

I welcome the thoughts and experiences of other adoptive families too.

Adoption is a complicated beast.

It's wonderful, thrilling and heart-poundingly fulfilling experience. But it also involves a tremendous amount of sorrow, loss and grief for each member of the adoption triad (birthmother/family, child and adoptive family). Let me say this here and now: our own sorrows, losses and missed milestones cannot compare with that of the birth family or the adopted child especially as the years march on.

As much as those of us who have benefitted from adoption would like to paint a purely rosy picture of it, we do no one any favors by denying the hard facts.


Namely, that adoption always begins with a tragedy.


But therein lies the complex nature of adoption: it is a solution (perhaps an imperfect one at that) to a host of crippling problems of our fallen world. This is a hard fact to grapple with, particularly for the new adoptive parent (and by extension, extended family as well) who just want to rejoice in the new addition to their family.

Gone are the days when adoption was a big dark dirty family secret that no one discusses. And thank God for that. But questions will come nonetheless. Often when you least expect them and regardless of whether or not you want to discuss it.

Kids are smart creatures and adept and putting two and two together, even if their skin color happens to match yours. Answering your child's questions about how they came to be part of your family will eventually lead to questions about their family of origin. Whether or not you know anything about the birth family or the circumstances surrounding why he or she may have been placed for adoption, children deserve an honest answer, appropriate to their age. (Gritty details should be reserved until they are old enough to absorb and process and - IMO - only insofar as they express interest or directly ask.)

As a parent, you must be prepared to talk about the whole adoption experience with your child at some point. But to do so, it will first require you to take inventory of and explore your own feelings. And biases.

Our first glimpse of our first child

I confess that early on in our first son's adoption, my own head was firmly buried in the sand. Thanks to our frustrating history with unexplained infertility, my vulnerable heart did not want to invest too much thought about the devastating circumstances that allowed me to rock my new son to sleep instead of his biological mother. What cataclysmic event of nature had to occur to allow this? We had blithely waltzed in and scooped up a baby without much thought to why and how he was placed for adoption. But I was just so happy and eager to suppress any buzzkill to this new intoxicating springtime of motherhood.

And yet, her nebulous presence would always be part of us.

First moments with our first son

Our first two adoptions are/were considered "closed" adoptions, as most international adoptions are. That means that there is no contact between the birth and adoptive families and original birth records and information is kept sealed, or in our sons' cases, destroyed.

Closed adoption offered the opportunity to bring a child home with no strings attached: we would just bring our kids home and begin our lives together without glancing back, right?

There was a time that I thought that a closed adoption was preferable. My battle-scarred heart couldn't bear the thought of "sharing" a child with a bio family. And being adopted internationally, there was/is no option for information about my boys' birthmothers beyond first names and a crap-quality b/w pic of each woman squished into a photo booth with her newborn son as part of the documentation of the relinquishment process the day after birth.

I found that I had (have) a hard time even looking at those photos. Feeling like I had snatched away their most precious treasures - knowing that their loss was my immense gain. Still, I couldn't look at those sweet, sorrowful faces without tremendous guilt in my heart.

Oh, we would talk about adoption and they would tell people that they came to us as "airplane babies" as opposed to being "belly" babies. They would observe that their skin is darker than ours and their hair is thick and black and spiky to touch but they otherwise showed no other interest in their stories of origin. So I didn't push it.

But there was another reason we didn't dig too deeply in this discussion. The concept of "birthmother" was a fearful one to me and I was cautious and guarded around this term "mother".

Why? Because I feared deep down that my boys wouldn't regard me completely their mother if I acknowledged the presence of another.

First glimpse of our second son

The boys certainly have always known they had a birthmother...and roughly what that meant. But they also had had a foster mother in Guatemala...and a godmother now sent them gifts at Christmas and birthdays.

And then their was me. Just one more in a seemingly long line-up of "mothers" in their lives. Yep, I was insecure.

First moments with our second son

I didn't push any further discussion but just casually answered any questions they would ask in an age-appropriate, none-too-detailed way. Always reassuring them - and perhaps myself too - that I was their mother.

Now there is also an "open" adoption option which implies some sort of relationship or contact with the birth family - be in visits, letters, pictures or emails - after the baby is placed with the adoptive family. This did not appeal to us at first for reasons stated above. Besides, was it really best for the child? Wouldn't he be confused about who his "real" mother is?

Visiting my boys in Guatemala was one of our greatest joys
but the pain in having to leave them behind - total of 3 times - was indescribable.
Those darks spots on my jeans are from big fat ugly tears anticipating our separation.

But then our daughter's birthmother entered our lives in an unexpected way - through open adoption.

And we were blown away.

Never before did I realize the value of seeing and knowing in the flesh that once nebulous, vague image of a young woman who would give so much yet would receive nothing in return. I was struck by her smile, her warmth, her poise and her clear commitment to her decision about what was "best for the baby". But what struck me most was the love she had for that tiny pink bundle she held.

Pure, intense, raw maternal love.

Our daughter, just hours old, held by her first mother.

Here was a strong woman who was clearly grieving interiorly, dreading having to say goodbye. And when the moment came for the nurses to cut the baby bracelets off her wrist (while new ones were generated and placed on my husband and I) her tears of grief and loss began to flow.

And flow.

And flow.

From every single person in the room (including the 3 nurses standing in the corner) the tears came in torrents. At that moment, everyone in the room knew what "laying down one's life for another" meant.

This was sacrificial love.

In what was probably the single-most earth-shattering experience of my life, she walked over to me and placed the baby in my arms, hugged me and asked one favor: that our daughter would always know how much she was loved and wanted.

Then with her family physically supporting her, she was escorted by the nurses off the L&D unit, leaving by way of the staff entrance so to avoid walking past the nursery window.

My heart was heavy. I felt like I was an accomplice to a crime.

Why was I the one walking away with the prize?

What did I do to deserve this?

What honor and glory would there be for her - the one who had given all and the very best that she had? This was just not right.

And yet she was gone now. She had chosen us to nurture and love this child of her womb as our own. My daughter's tiny fingers curled around my finger as we walked into a postpartum suite (oh the irony!) as a family. This was our first moment together alone as a family of five. We now had a daughter. And she in turn now had a family who very much wanted and already loved her to the ends of the earth. And she had overjoyed and excited extended families across multiple states who were anxious and eager to have us home so they could meet her in person.

Now my boys (who were 7 and 4 respectively) watched all this take place with wide, searching eyes. Adoption was as natural to them as breathing but this...this was something new to them. I watched their faces as they were taking it all in, as they tried to understand why everyone had been crying when they themselves - and their parents they knew - were so happy. But I knew they were absorbing and processing it all in their little minds.

We have what is considered a semi-open relationship with Baby Girl's birthmother, meaning that she is not an active part of our lives but we send pictures and updates via a private blog and occasional snail mail. The distance across many states makes visits difficult and rare but we have managed twice now to meet up with her and her family since the birth. She is always so grateful for any pictures and updates we send her way but she is very respectful of our family privacy and space. She's pretty much a dream.

She loves Baby Girl as passionately as I do. And you know what? That's cool. Real cool. Is there such a thing as too much love lavished on one child?

But here's the thing: she is wise and kind enough remember all THREE of my children on their birthdays and at Christmas. She knows that the boys don't have birthmothers that send cards and gifts on their special days. She is just as faithful in remembering each boy on his birthday and Christmas as she is with their sister.

She has become an adopted birthmother to my boys. And as such, she has been the best thing that has happened to our family. She has put flesh and a face and a soul on the two other women that I will never meet.

In short, she's changed my heart. She has reaffirmed me in my own vocation and true role as mother (verbally and otherwise). She has made me catch a glimpse of my boys' birthmothers - and cherish them.


And so with every letter or package addressed to them from Baby Girl's birthmother, the boys have naturally become more curious about their own. They saw in their sister's birthmother, a warm and courageous woman who clearly loved and wanted that tiny pink bundle. They saw that it pained her to walk away from the baby. Our boys only vaguely grasped that she couldn't provide the home and family that precious bundle deserved and needed.

The thought-processing continued and we didn't interfere but instead waited for them to initiate the questions and conversations.

And then they finally started asking the questions like,

"did my birthmother cry when she had to give me away too?" 

"do you think my birthmother wishes she could send me presents too?"

"do you think my birthmother still remembers me?"

These are the questions I had been bracing myself for years. But I now had context with with to answer them: I could point to their sister's birthmother and answer them confidently with a resounding 'yes' to each of these questions. And because they had seen first hand the kindness, generosity and example of this one beautiful, heroic soul, they have seemed satisfied and content with my answer.

At least so far.

Much of the detail surrounding my boys' relinquishments are shrouded in mystery - which is both a blessing and a curse. But as their mom, I do my best to turn it around and reassure them that it was out of the same raw love, sacrifice and heroism that they witnessed in that hospital room that they too were placed for adoption and entrusted to us.

I do my best for my boys to paint a mental picture of their own birthmothers as beautiful, kind and affectionate women. I have no idea if this is true or not - but who cares? They just need to know they were (and are) loved beyond measure. And reassured that they are forever a part of our family.

The decision to include our boys in each successive adoption and allow them to witness first hand the difficult "handing over" has proved to be invaluable as they are coming to understand their own stories of origin.

I don't know how we'll handle the grittier questions they'll have as they approach their teen years. Maybe they won't even to ask them. I don't know. My understanding is that each adoptee handles the question of "who am I?" differently. I knew early on in the adoption process(es) that I would never have all the answers to the hard questions my children would eventually ask. But console myself with 2 things:

1 - I have had the benefit of raising them from an early age so that any questions that do arise are always within the context of *knowing* that I'm their mom. They are growing up - God-willing - without fear that we will leave them or stop loving them. 

2 - They share a common story with each of their siblings. My boys even share a common birth country. I like to think that they will have the benefit of working through their grief together somehow.

I've made some mistakes in the past. I'm working toward making those right. Since the start of the first adoption, I have prayed for wisdom and guidance from the Holy Spirit to inspire me with the right words at the right time. And you know what? He's so faithful. I by no means have all the answers but I don't need to. Not right now at least.

What I can do is encourage them to talk openly and honestly with us...and in their own time. I don't push the topic. Or at the very least I wait for them to give me cues to ask them open ended questions. I want to respect this part of their lives and give them the time and space they need as they come to terms with their beginnings. I'm learning right along with them how best to approach the facts surrounding their adoptions.

Above all I do my very best to make them feel loved and secure and an irreplaceable part of our family.