The One About Birth Moms

There’s a stigma that often follows the title “birth mom”–the woman who surrenders her rights for another to raise the child(ren) born to her.

Stereotypes might include:

Single.

Young.

Teenager.

Dependent.

Uneducated.

Foolish.

Poor.

Weak.

Emotional.

Incapable.

Selfish.

Addict.

Of course, anyone might identify with any of these labels through different seasons in life–one doesn’t necessarily have to be a birth mom–but these labels–with negative connotations– seem to be assumed of birth moms.

“Was she a teenager?”
“Why’d didn’t she want him?”
“Why’d she give her up?”

I’ve heard these inquiries and more but I think they are the wrong questions to ask. They are not only inappropriate with a hint of judgment but they are also far too simplistic for the complex world of adoption.

The truth is that birth moms vary like the rest of humanity.

They are racially diverse.

They are lower and middle and upper class.

They live in subdivisions and subsidized housing.

They pay rent in small towns, rural areas, cities, and suburbia.

They wrestle with addictions and they do not.

They did not finish high school and they have multiple degrees.

They battle mental illness and they are of sound mind.

They are sixteen and twenty-five and forty.

They are single and divorced and married.

They are already mothers and they are not.

They have hope in redemptive Love and they wonder if any of that is real.

 

Some are angry and detached.
Some are devastated and desperate.
Some are overwhelmed and terrified.

Some make their decision quickly and resolutely and some take more time to consider.

Some quickly leave their babies in a drop box outside a church.
Some slowly create a plan and choose their adoptive family.

Some prefer contact with their child’s adoptive family.
Some prefer lifelong distance.

Some cannot hold the one they’ve just birthed.
Some swaddle and kiss and struggle to release.

Some wrestle with guilt and regret.
Some live with total peace.

In the story of adoption, I have discovered that the *Christian* culture tends to view birth moms as the villains, their children as the victims, and the adoptive families as the heroes. (Though I assure you, most adoptive families do not feel this way–despite how we are portrayed.) Church culture often praises the heroes for rescuing the victims from the villains.

Please hear me when I say: This is a false narrative. Damaging, even. We would do well to address it and challenge it, especially in *Christian* spaces where we claim to believe in redemption, forgiveness, and restoration.

Birth moms are often victims themselves, driven to make an incredibly difficult decision that they never imagined they would face. Regardless of the choices they made–or were forced into– on the road to pregnancy, they face obstacles and pain usually hidden from the public eye.

Until it isn’t.

Aside from the physical changes that come with growing a human, they also face public shame. They cringe at the well-intentioned but awkward, ‘Congratulations! When are you due?’–and the comments that follow after their tiny victim is placed with the hero. They endure the labor, the hormonal ‘let down’ after birth, and the long road ahead with empty arms and a shattered heart.

 

While every birth mom has her unique experiences, here’s what I know of our kids’ birth moms:

They prayed.
They ached.
They wrestled.
They chose.
They wept.
They suffered.
They grieved.

And still do.

They are brave warriors, fellow Image-bearers of our Creator, and I am so grateful for their lives and for their trust in us to do what they felt they could not.

May we, who claim faith in a redemptive God, drop the labels, change the narrative, and see birth moms as women in a difficult place who need our unconditional love, continual support, and loads of hope.

 

***Disclaimer: I realize that the relationships between birth families and adoptive families are complex and varied, depending on many factors: domestic/international adoptions, orphanages, foster care, adoption agency relationships, legal ramifications, race, history, family dynamics, etc. While there are universal issues related to adoption (such as loss, grief, identity, attachment), we must also recognize and respect the varied stories as we seek to support each person involved. I could not possibly cover every scenario in a single post but wanted to honestly share my observations and experiences with the birth moms and agencies from whom I continue to learn.

If you feel comfortable sharing a bit of your adoption story–whether you are a birth mom, adoptee, or adoptive parent–please post in the comments below. Or if you prefer to share privately, feel free to email me.  I promise to read and respond.