My Complicated Feelings About My Son’s Unknown Birth Mother

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Some days, I find myself tangled in a whirlwind of emotions. Is it possible to love someone I’ve never met, or should I really despise her? Yet, how can I feel so intensely about a woman who remains a stranger to me? The answer lies in the bond we share—she gave birth to my son.

When my son was born, he tested positive for drugs. He endured unimaginable withdrawal symptoms, spending over 100 days in a neonatal intensive care unit, fighting for his life. His neonatal abstinence score was unprecedented at the hospital, a record he still holds today—not exactly a record to celebrate, but it illustrates how dire his situation was. I’ve heard he was inconsolable, crying incessantly and reacting to every little change in his environment. Breathing was a struggle, and the extent of his drug exposure left us with many questions.

This is where my internal battle begins. Should I resent this woman for the pain she caused my son, or should I be grateful to her for bringing him into the world?

I feel anger when I watch my son struggle to articulate his thoughts, when he can’t control his body’s movements, or when I sat in a doctor’s office and learned he had autism. I’ve felt hatred on countless occasions when he’s been in pain, whether from cramps or other challenges.

But then, there are moments when my feelings shift. Sometimes, I feel love for her—love mixed with gratitude. I hope she is healthy, happy, and at peace. I cherish her when my son wraps his arms around me, insisting he’s too grown up for hugs. I feel thankful for her when his laughter fills the room as he jokes around. I like to think he got his sense of humor from me, but maybe it’s a blend of both of us. In truth, my love for her often outweighs my hatred.

Adoption is a beautiful journey, yet it’s also filled with complexity and uncertainty. You’re entrusted with a child who came from another woman, but you love them as if they were your own. For me, it wasn’t about being a hero saving my son; it was about falling in love with him the moment I met him. He captured my heart, and I desperately wanted the opportunity to be his mom. I take this responsibility to heart.

As a person who was adopted and who works in child welfare, I feel a unique pressure to help my son understand his adoption story. I talk to him about his birth family and why they couldn’t keep him safe. As he grows, I adapt the story to his understanding. I explain foster care and how he was sick as a baby. I want him to know that his birth mother loved him then and still does today. Deep down, I hope he develops a special love and respect for her, but I also secretly wish he loves me more.

Do you see my dilemma? It’s a confusing and complicated situation, yet it’s also straightforward in its own way. I’m still navigating through these feelings, and that’s perfectly okay. Each time my sweet, funny child flashes his lopsided smile—a smile she gave him—I feel an immense sense of love, respect, and gratitude for her.

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