My mother adopted myself and my sister as she had a hysterectomy and could not have children. She was 36 when she adopted us. I am just 2 years younger than she was and I find such a parallelism in our paths. Although, she passed away in 2015, I think often about her mental state and her longing to have children. The truth is, I feel closer to her more now than ever. I wonder if she was emotionally overwhelmed by the desire to have children knowing that she could not bear a child of her own.

Sometimes there are thoughts of feeling like a failure because I have been unsuccessful with becoming pregnant. There are thoughts of incompleteness and unworthiness, but I know these feelings are temporary as they come and go. Journaling has been a great way to dissect those emotions and unpack them, if you will. I also know that I am not on my journey alone. My other half is very supportive and encouraging during this process. We also have a great support system with friends and family.

It’s the passing of time along the journey that seems to keep me in the never-ending cycle of self-doubt. The question for me isn’t one of whether I will bear my own child but will I be accepting of whatever form being a mother is meant for me. James and I have discussed adoption as a possibility. Of course, we would love to experience pregnancy and giving birth. However, the most important thing to me is being a mother and that is a sentiment I know my mother could relate to.

I am so grateful that I had an example of unconditional love. Furthermore, a signature on paper doesn’t take priority to the selflessness, the sacrifice, the love, and the relentless care, provided by a mother. I wouldn’t be who I am today without the love and guidance from Victoria (my mama bear). She taught me strength, perseverance, dedication, unconditional love, kindness, and most importantly self-expression. She showed me what endless possibilities are and allowed me to flourish in my own way, even if unaccepted by others.

So, yes I think of her and what she must have felt but I know that she made it through, because here I am as a living testimony. I hope she is proud of my attempt at making it through. I would insert a cheesy line from the many conversations we had about life or adulting, but the truth is, she was the best and worst listener. She let me talk myself out of most problems and would say, “There you go, I knew you would find a way.” And to that I say, thanks Mom, I’m managing.