I was born in 1971, go ahead do the math as long as you figure out that I’m 25 or 27 years old, you’re right. My mother wasn’t present at my birth. That may seem odd, but not that odd. There was another woman there, my birth mom. I want to thank my birth mom for enduring pregnancy, I want to thank her for going through labor, and I want to thank her for giving me to my mother. My real mom.

My mom has always been my mom. She might not have been there when I made my entrance into this world, but she is the woman who took me home from the hospital. The nurses even insisted she ride in a wheel chair out to the car. She has been with me ever since, I think it counts as real.

My youngest daughter was born in 2009. I wasn’t present at her birth either--neither was a doctor, but that’s a story for another day. However, I was the one who stayed with her day and night in the Special Care Nursery. I was the one who fretted over her first few days as they ran this test and that test. I was the one who patiently held her on her side and fed her drop by drop because she just couldn’t grasp the whole “eating and breathing” thing. It felt real enough to me.

This is not a comment on birth mothers. Birth moms are my heroes. I am adopted, my husband is adopted, my best friend is adopted, my neighbor is adopted, and my daughter is adopted. THANK YOU BIRTH MOMS! My world would not exist without you!

This is a response to the questions I am asked about my “real” mom, or about my daughter’s “real” mom. I am the REAL mom to ALL of my children. These children live with their real parents. They are all loved equally- even the one who is 16, eats all the ice cream in the freezer, and whose driving increased the car insurance bill by 900%. They joined our family each in their own way. The love I have for them is not influenced by how they got here or by their DNA. I love them because they are mine.

If you think that I am being overly sensitive, blame it on the real daughter in me and the real mom in me. Defending my mother, defending my child. I am happy to answer any questions about the birth moms in my life, but if you ask me about my real mom it might not be who you think it is.