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It’s okay to just let it go.

This past year has been a roller coaster ride for me. I’ve made a wild amount of progress in some aspects of my life and I’ve also hit a lot of roadblocks in my life.

This upcoming Mother’s Day really has my mind racing lately. Not only because it’s going to be my first Mother’s Day without my own mother, but a thousand other things come to mind. Since adopting Kiddo, it always makes me think of his birth mother. The first year with him, it made me angry at her. We hadn’t adopted him yet and I was full of anger at the fact that I was having to wait to adopt a child that wasn’t properly cared for in the first place. By a “mother” who didn’t care and chose drugs over her own child. (calm down, I’m going somewhere with this.)

The second year, we had officially adopted him. I started stalking her Facebook page on the regular (something I have since had to block myself from doing). I saw that even though she didn’t make the best choices, she still was a mom. She gave birth to several children who were taken from her. And the maybe those drugs are her way of coping. Maybe those drugs are her way of escaping a possible terrible childhood. Maybe the drugs help her forget that her kids have been taken away. And maybe I have no room to judge her sins, just because she’s sinning differently than me. And maybe, just maybe Mother’s Day is a really, really hard day for her. So I started using that day to set aside prayer time for her. I’m not saying it’s easy for me. It really, really is not. But I do it.

Mother’s Day has also always been hard for me because it’s a reminder that I couldn’t be a mother the way I wanted to. I couldn’t become pregnant like I wanted to, I couldn’t give birth. Before adoption, it was a day I would spend crying. A day I dreaded. A day I stopped focusing on my own mother, and chose to spend it dwelling on all the children I didn’t/couldn’t have.

After adoption, it was a day I still cried. I cried because I still couldn’t have what I wanted. I cried because even though I was blessed with a beautiful boy, I still wanted more. I wasn’t satisfied. And that day was just a reminder that I couldn’t have what I wanted, when I wanted it. It was hard.

But this past year I’ve truly started to think about whether I really still wanted another kid, or if I just wanted the pregnancy. Do I really want the up all nights and the potty training and the fighting and diapers? Or is it the attention, the baby showers, the name picking, the shopping? And with lots of therapy, I’m starting to realize it’s the second one. I don’t really long to have more kids anymore. I truly am okay with just the one. Instead, I’ve been holding onto a dream I thought I wanted, because I felt like letting the dream go was a betrayal to myself. A betrayal on all the years I spent crying, all the years we spent trying, all the doctors appointments, and all the money. I felt like I was no longer allowed to let the dream go. I was keeping the dream almost as a punishment to myself for even having the thought of letting it go. How dare I quit.

But then I realize… it’s okay to let it go. It’s okay to learn to love the life I have. It’s okay to soak in the boy that drives me insane and it’s okay to set up a life for a family of 3. It’s okay. Does that mean I won’t cry on Sunday? Absolutely not. I can even promise you I will cry. Because even though I’m allowing myself to let go of the dream, I can still mourn the loss of it. I can still mourn the loss of the life I thought I’d have. And I can certainly mourn the loss of my mother.

But I can also smile with the tears. I can smile because God gave me what I asked for, a baby. He gave me a baby via a different plan. He gave me a baby that I didn’t know was out in the world a whole year before I met him. He was already part of the plan. And God might already have another plan for us that involves another child and that would be awesome too. But he also might not. And that really is okay too. It is okay to allow myself to move on. And honestly? It’s a weight off my shoulders. It’s a freedom.

To the mamas who gave birth, Happy Mother’s Day.
To the mamas who have lost their babies, Happy Mother’s Day.
To the mamas who adopted, Happy Mother’s Day.
To the mamas who haven’t yet had a baby, but are mamas at heart, Happy Mother’s Day.
To the stepmamas who were a bigger part of their stepchild’s life than they give them credit for, Happy Mother’s Day. (<3)
To those who have lost their mamas, but still celebrate them in their hearts, Happy Mother’s Day.
To those of you who don’t have kids and don’t want them, Happy Mother’s Day.
It’s truly just another Sunday if you want it to be and I hope it’s a happy one for all of you.

Me and my mama. ❤


6 thoughts on “It’s okay to just let it go.

  1. Your motherly crown is much brighter than if you had given birth yourself. When you adopted, you Chose to be a mother to your little one. He’s not your accident. He’s truly wanted by you. You picked him. If you choose to tell him he’s adopted, he’ll always know he’s choosen, special, wanted!

    I know. I was adopted. My Mom IS my mom. There’s another biological lady who gave birth to me, but – my mom loved and still loves me 😉


  2. I miss you! I think of you and your family and smile when I’m traveling up and down Larkspur Rd! Thanks for the friend request and for the opportunity to read your story. It’s a beautiful sad, happy, amazing, inspiring, enlightening, heartfelt journey that you are on. Thank you for describing all of your feelings in such a raw and tender way. You put your whole heart out there and are so strong and brave to tell your honest story. I wish I could hug you right now! You are an amazing lady and wonderful mama!


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