Polarity of Birthmotherhood

*Disclaimer: I am not trying to minimize any birthmoms story or pain, and I recognize there are quite a few generalizations made in the following. Please understand this is a cry of my heart, not a judgement of anyone else's.*

During my 3+ years of being involved in the birthmother circuit, I've met a lot of them. Some briefly, and some have remained my friend for years, but all of them have an incredibly unique story to tell. I've seen birthmoms who try to hide from the adoption, who drown their emotions in alcohol, who are completely content and blissful, who have open adoptions, who have closed adoptions, who see their birthchildren once a year, who see their birthchildren once a week, who love to talk about the adoption, who hate to talk about the adoption, who live in the past, who live in the future, who are angry, hurt, broke, scarred, loved, loving, inspirational, courageous, strong, fearless. I've met a lot of birthmoms.

A large portion don't handle placing their children well (which I completely understand; most have come from unfair, painful family situations themselves, and it is incredibly courageous they chose adoption)-- they return to drinking, doing drugs, or just plain denial. Another camp takes the opposite path-- they become incredibly mature, take control of their lives, and move forward. In open-adoption instances, the first group typically has rocky relationship with the adoptive family and the latter have a very strong, familial bond.

And then there's me. Somehow I don't feel like I fit in to either camp. And if I can't fit in with birthmoms, who can I fit in with? They (theoretically) understand the depth of one of the most important decisions of my life in a way no one else can even begin to imagine. But I have little beyond adoption in common with the revert-partiers, as I can't allow myself to be around that sort of situations anymore. And even the perfectly-adjusted group seems just a little too perfect for me. Being a birth mom is not the greatest thing I've ever experienced, sorry. It still hurts. I'm not over it. I'm not fine. I love the adoptive family and we are extended family and I love seeing my baby girl, but I am still broken. After almost three years it still hurts almost as much as that day I sat in a hospital parking lot and sobbed until my face was numb.

Obviously I'm not in the same place I was then. I finished an associates and am working on finishing two bachelors now. I stay away from partying. I go to church. I smile and laugh when I am blessed enough to see my daughter and her family. But it's not easy watching another woman mother your child. It's not easy seeing the picture perfect family you helped create. It's not easy going through life feeling like a piece of you is missing. I am trying to be strong and brave and okay, but most of the time I just feel like I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing.