Whenever I share our adoption story, I often hear the same things:
“She’s so lucky to have you.”
“She must be so grateful.”
I usually smile and say, “I’m the lucky one.”
But the truth is a little more complicated than that.
Because there is nothing lucky about trauma.
There is nothing lucky about:
Being exposed to violence or substance use before you’re even born.
Going without prenatal care or proper nutrition.
Hearing the same voice for nine months…
and then never hearing it again.
Living in multiple homes before you can even form memories.
Waiting for visits that don’t happen.
Learning not to cry…because no one comes.
That’s not luck.
That’s loss.
That’s trauma that lives in the body long after the world assumes the story has a happy ending.
We had just become foster parents to our daughter. She was about 18 months old.
I loved her instantly—completely, deeply, without hesitation.
She was joyful. Curious. Sweet.
And I don’t think I fully understood yet how much her world had already changed.
One afternoon, we were out shopping when we ran into her previous foster mom and foster brother.
We stopped. Talked. Smiled. It was kind and natural.
And then we said goodbye.
And everything shifted.
My daughter broke down.
Real, deep, uncontrollable sobbing.
She reached for her former foster mom—desperate, confused, heartbroken.
She didn’t have the words to explain it.
But her body remembered.
That woman had been her safe place.
Her version of “mom.”
For most of her life.
And now she was walking away.
Again.
Is that what lucky looks like?
No.
My daughter wasn’t lucky.
She experienced loss most of us will never fully understand.
But me?
I’m the lucky one.
I get to be her momma.
I get to hear her laugh.
I get to learn her favorite songs and inside jokes.
I get to hold her when things feel hard.
I get to celebrate who she is becoming.
I get the best hugs.
I get bedtime snuggles and everyday moments that don’t look like much—but mean everything.
I get to watch her grow into the incredible, creative, brilliant person she was always meant to be.
I’m the lucky one.
And loving her well means holding both truths at the same time:
The beauty of what we have now…
and the weight of what she’s been through.
If you’ve ever wondered how early experiences shape behavior, emotions, and connection, I share more about that here:
- Understanding Trauma in Adoption: What I Wish I Had Known
- When Everything Becomes a Battle with an ADHD Child
- Navigating Infertility and Adoption: Our “Maybe Baby” Journey
(Some behaviors we see in our kids don’t come out of nowhere—they come from somewhere.)
If you’re parenting through adoption, foster care, or trauma…
You’re holding a story that’s both beautiful and complicated.
And you’re not alone in that.
If this resonates with you, I’d love to hear your experience in the comments.
💌 And if you want more honest stories from the messy, meaningful middle of motherhood, you’re always welcome here. Subscribe below to stay connected.
Mindful Momma Moments 
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