Mother’s Day has a bittersweet meaning for me, making me reflect on how I became a parent through adoption. My mother was my cherished supporter and even consulted with a psychic to help me achieve my dream of motherhood.
“Will my daughter have children?” Mom asked the medium hopefully.
The psychic responded definitively, “Your daughter will have many children.”
I was 27 years old and struggling with infertility before IVF was available in the United States. Three years of tears, longing, and a major surgery later, my husband and I adopted our older son. My mother looked into the shining green saucers of her first grandson’s eyes and began an unconditional love affair that transcends biology and reason.
Although I don’t believe anyone can foretell our destinies, I have to admit that the psychic’s prediction was spot on. After adopting two children, I became an adoption lawyer and have had the privilege of being part of more than 1,500 adoptions. When I was in anguish over becoming a mother, I could not have predicted that my life would become my life’s work.
My joy at creating new families is tempered by the recognition of the deep sorrow birth parents experience in adoption, despite their confidence in choosing wonderful adoptive families and their conviction that they are doing what is best for their children. Mother’s Day is tough for me, maybe because the celebration causes me to reflect on the way my sons came into my life, through the love, courage, and loss of their birth mothers.