I became a birth mom in the summer of 2014. It wasn’t something I planned, and if you had asked me years earlier, I never would have imagined my life turning out this way. Back in November 2013, I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t tell anyone at first. I didn’t even want to admit it to myself. I wasn’t ready to be a mom, and facing that reality was terrifying.\
When I finally told my boyfriend at the time, we decided to schedule an abortion in Washington, D.C. But during the exam, the doctors told me I was already too far along. If I wanted to go through with it, I would have to travel across the country. That wasn’t possible. I felt angry, scared, and completely overwhelmed. Neither of us was ready to raise a child, so we started talking about adoption. It was the only option that felt possible, and while it sounded harsh back then, I know now it was the right decision for me.
A couple of days later, I opened my laptop and started searching for adoption agencies. If you’ve never done it before, it’s overwhelming. There are endless websites, profiles, and information, and I had no idea what to look for. When I finally mentioned adoption to my doctor, they gave me a pamphlet for an agency. I called, and that was the one I ended up working with.
My family didn’t take the news well. When my dad found out I was pregnant and planning adoption, he couldn’t even talk to me about it. My mom had to step in as the go-between. I was told things like, “You made your bed, now lie in it,” and warned not to bring the baby home or my dad wouldn’t let her go. Those words hurt, and I felt pushed away.
Thankfully, the agency itself made me feel respected. They never pressured me. There was a lot of paperwork, medical history, social history, and then came the part where I had to choose a family. I was given profile books filled with photos and letters from waiting parents. I felt shallow separating them into piles of “yes” and “no,” but that was the process. Out of dozens of families, I narrowed it down to three.
What made my top choice stand out wasn’t their pictures or even what they wrote about themselves. It was the way they started their letter. Most others began with “Dear Birth Mom” or “Dear Expectant Parent,” which felt cold. But this one started with, “Dear Friend, we wonder if these letters are as hard to read as they are to write.” That simple line showed me they saw me as a person, not just a way to get a baby. That was the moment I knew.
When I told my counselor, she said my first choice had already said yes. That was when it all became real. The paperwork was done, the family was chosen, and now I just had to prepare to give birth.
Her due date came and went. Eventually, at 41 weeks, I went into labor the day before I was scheduled to be induced. Labor was long and painful, but once I got an epidural, it felt like night and day. My mom and boyfriend sat with me, and we even found ourselves laughing and joking as we watched the contraction monitor. A few hours later, at 6:30 p.m., my daughter was born.
When she arrived, they immediately took her to be checked and cleaned. I didn’t feel like I deserved to see her right away, so my mom was the first person to look at her — but she asked my permission first. Later, my counselor came to the hospital, and while my daughter slept on my chest, I signed the papers ending my parental rights. It wasn’t easy, but it felt right.
Leaving the hospital was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I went home with empty arms and a body still prepared to care for a baby. Eight days later, my revocation period ended, and the adoption was final. I knew deep down I wouldn’t change my mind, but knowing there was no going back was still heavy.
One memory from that placement day has stayed with me. Birth dad held our daughter, looked down at her, and said, “It’s time to go to your dad now,” before placing her in her adoptive father’s arms. That moment showed me the love and the heartbreak we both felt.
Now, years later, we have an open adoption. I get updates and pictures every six months, and I see her in person every six months too, so there’s always something every few months to look forward to. She knows who I am. When she was five, she told me she knew her first name came from me and her middle name came from her adoptive parents. That meant the world.
I’ve learned a lot since becoming a birth mom. No two adoptions look the same, and comparing yours to someone else’s doesn’t help. Being a birth mom isn’t shameful. You can still have a real relationship with your child. And adoption isn’t just about the parents and child, it’s about the bigger family too. The more people who love her, the better.
My journey hasn’t been easy, but I know I made the best choice for my daughter. And even through the pain, I’ve found peace in knowing she’s loved and cared for, while I still get to be part of her life.
