Written by: Anonymous
There’s nothing like meeting your child for the first time. It’s a beautiful honor that few moments in life can compare to. However, when a child joins your family through adoption, it’s also sacred and heartbreaking in ways that people don't often talk about. I know that human nature tempts us to lean into only the joyous parts of the journey, but for the sake of our children and their birth families, we need to choose to face the complexities head on.
On a chilly winter evening in 2017, I had the honor of meeting my son for the very first time in a dimly lit NICU room. It was absolutely overwhelming in every way. I was overwhelmed with love. Overwhelmed that years of infertility and miscarriages all of a sudden felt totally worth it when I looked into my little guy's eyes. I was overwhelmed because my dream had come true; my hands were now full of the sweet baby that I had a longed for, prayed for, and hoped for for years. But I was overwhelmed for another reason, too… And no one had prepared me for it.
I was overwhelmed because I knew that before I ever walked into that NICU room, another woman spent time in there. Another woman looked into my little guy's eyes. She interacted with the nurses that were introducing me to my new son. She had rocked him in that chair on the other side of his little bassinet. She was there not long before me, changing his diapers. She’d kissed that head full of so many precious hairs and, if I had to guess, I’d bet that she cried tears over him, too. I wasn't the first woman to fall in love in that room. I wasn't the first mom to meet this little guy and have her heart well up with the instantaneous love that you feel when you meet your child for the first time. Simply put, I wasn't the first mom in that room.
One of my friends is a birth mom of 14 years. I’ll never forget the details she’s so graciously shared with me about her experience being the first mom. She said that when the time came for her to leave the hospital, she prayed that the family she had chosen would uphold their promise of an open adoption. She had no guarantees that she would ever be able to see her son again, but she prayed that she would. She told him how much she loved him and begged him for forgiveness. She feared to her very core that her own son would hate her for walking away. She gave him one more kiss as she breathed in the last moment of being his only mother. She glanced back at him as she walked out of the hospital room. She walked down the hall, hand in hand with her father as he looked at her and said, "I feel like I'm leaving my grandson's funeral." As they were leaving, she heard something just around the corner.. Outbursts of joy. She saw her son’s new family there to meet him. Full of excitement and joy, with a fresh bundle of balloons. I can’t quite imagine it.
Adoption is complex. As hopeful adoptive parents, it can be so easy to only see how this affects us. An adoption placement means that our dreams of becoming parents come to fruition. In so many ways, it’s absolutely amazing. But we’ve got to remember, our gain was first someone else’s loss. Birth mothers are not surrogates; they’re mothers. They’re entrusting us with their child.
In preparing ourselves to face the heartbreak head on right alongside the beauty, we will be able to better empathize with our children as they grow. In not shying away from the bittersweet realities of it all, we give them permission to process their emotions without judgement.
If I could go back and tell myself one thing during the wait, I’d say this; “When and if the time comes that you have the honor and privilege to enter a room and meet a child that may become your own, don’t forget that this isn’t just about you." We must be sensitive to the complex and to the sacred. We’ve got to remember that the sacred does not always need to be shared. I’ve got a file of memories from the hospital in my heart that I’m keeping safely tucked away for my son that the internet will never, ever see.
So hopeful adoptive parents, when and if your time comes, I’d urge you not to turn a blind eye to the hard parts that are raveled in with the joy. It’s okay to rejoice, but we need to rejoice with a deep understanding that as we rejoice someone else is mourning. Our gain is their loss. After the papers are signed and we’re holding our sweet babies, we must remember that her grieving process has only just begun. After all, this is her child, too.