While March 17th is the day that people traditionally raise their glasses in the name of St. Patrick; This holiday celebrates something much more important for me. You see, St. Patrick’s day is the anniversary of the day that I became a mum.
For those that don’t know, I am a mum. However, I am not a traditional mum. I am what is known as a birthmother; meaning that I have a child out there that, for many reasons, chose to place for adoption.
Now, before you get any ideas, that does not mean that I didn’t like my son. Quite the contrary, I love my son so much that I decided that he would have a better life being raised by someone else; A couple that I specifically chose.
My son, “N” we will call him, came steamrolling into the world at 8:11 am on March, 17th, 2011; weighing in at 9lbs and 4.5oz. I had had been in labour for most of the day and all night; arriving at the hospital shortly before midnight on the 17th. Sadly, I don’t remember much of the process as I was so exhausted that I blacked out. Nevertheless, it was certainly an experience.
I only had one day where “N” was fully mine, but it was a day that I will always treasure; I spent it giving him his first bath, cuddling him, and just generally loving him. At the age of 21, “N’s” arrival was the first time that I had experienced such an amazing love: it was incredible.
Essentially, I am posting this to help obliterate the notion that Birthmothers don’t care. We do. It is just that not all of us are lucky enough to have the right situation. Nevertheless, despite my occasional sadness, I will never regret “N’s” existence.
These days, since I have an open adoption, I am in regular contact with “N” and his family. While I don’t see him every day, I do have the opportunity to watch him grow and thrive.
It is for this reason that St. Patrick’s day is much more than a holiday for me. March 17th represents the love I have for “N” and his family, as well as the strength and courage that we all share.