“How many children do you have?” inquired the mother next to me on the park bench, her toddler peacefully napping against her chest.
My heart sank.
I stammered something about being a caregiver and motioned toward the trio of kids I had taken to the park. Then I quickly excused myself to “check on them.”
I was weary of waiting for my turn to be a mom. It seemed as though everyone I knew could have children as easily as reheating leftovers. Not just any children, but adorable ones with bright smiles, chubby cheeks, and tiny fingers. Pregnant mothers were everywhere, rubbing their bellies and sharing tales of late-night cravings and family opinions about their choices.
Even in the comfort of my own home, I couldn’t escape the reminders. Diaper commercials played on repeat, baby shower invites cluttered my mailbox, and I was constantly bombarded by gender reveal party notifications. And that catchy song on the radio? It was all about the joys of love and family.
My path to motherhood was fraught with challenges, so tumultuous it could be a made-for-TV movie. After a year and a half of unexplained illness, I was diagnosed with a chronic autoimmune condition while my health hung in the balance. During a five-day hospital stay, a diabetes nurse educator discussed family planning with my husband and me. In that moment, I decided we would adopt. The decision was simple; the waiting, however, was excruciating.
Adoption isn’t as straightforward as people often suggest. “Just adopt,” they say, but the reality involves mountains of paperwork, background checks, home inspections, and interviews, all while accumulating substantial expenses. Then comes the waiting—weeks, months, sometimes years—for the call that would finally make me a mother. Meanwhile, I watched others become moms, sometimes multiple times, while I remained on the sidelines, heartbroken.
Yet, my story is not unique. Many “other moms” face similar heartaches every year on Mother’s Day. There are foster mothers who devote their lives to raising children not their own, women who have experienced multiple miscarriages longing for just one full-term pregnancy, mothers grieving the loss of children—both young and old. There are birth mothers who placed their children for adoption, carrying the weight of that decision eternally, and even surrogates who may mourn the babies they nurtured for others.
Fortunately, I was eventually honored with the title of “mother.” I welcomed a daughter, then another daughter, followed by a son, and finally, another daughter. Each adoption came with its own hurdles and uncertainties, but I celebrate my four children, and we also honor their first mothers on Mother’s Day.
To all the other mothers out there, my thoughts are with you this Mother’s Day. I understand what it feels like to be on the outside looking in, and I see your pain, vulnerability, and heartache. Your losses, your dreams, and your “what ifs” are acknowledged. This day is yours as well, and however you choose to celebrate is completely valid.
For anyone interested in exploring parenthood through non-traditional means, consider checking out intracervicalinsemination.com for more information. Also, makeamom.com has some great resources for home insemination kits. You can find additional insights on pregnancy at ccrmivf.com, which serves as an excellent resource for anyone navigating this journey.
Summary
Mother’s Day can be a painful time for many women, including those who are on the path to motherhood through adoption, surrogacy, or those grieving losses. It’s essential to remember and acknowledge these “other moms” and their unique experiences. This day is for everyone, regardless of their journey.