The sun beat me home tonight. As I trudged up the subway stairs and saw the sunrise, I knew it was much too late of a night.
Especially with church in the morning. A lady neighbor of mine and her sister, holding a cake, were also walking into my building. She said, "Happy Mother's Day, if you're a mom!" And I said, "Thank you. I appreciate that."
The smallest interaction, even from a stranger, can mean more than you realize. Mother's Day is always a tricky one for me. As I imagine it is for any birth mom without children of her own. I always feel like I'm half of a mother. Like I almost don't deserve this holiday.
I know raising a child involves many sacrifices; I haven't done that. I've never sung him a lullaby, rocked him to sleep, nursed a skinned knee, helped with homework, or attended a baseball game. I've never cleaned up his messy high chair or even changed his diaper. This is the sacrifice I have made. I'm not his mama or his mommy. I never, ever will be. I entrusted that privilege to another woman. She now and forever will carry that responsibility for my baby boy.
It's a bittersweet day. I celebrate his life and my part in bringing him into the world. I celebrate his health and happiness. I also grieve the relationship with him I'll never have. And can never get back. His childhood that I am missing out on, and loving him from afar. At least he knows who I am and I'm able to send gifts and visit.
I'll never regret the decision I made. No matter how painful, or how many people don't understand or agree. God’s hand was in it. It was and still is, what's best for my son and for me. And being his mother is still the most important job I've ever had; his life is such a blessing.
Because of this, Mother's Day is a tricky one for me. If you know a woman who chose adoption for her child or suffered the loss of a child, please try to remember her today. It means more than you think. We are not half of a mother; we are mothers, just with a different kind of sacrifice.
