What I Missed as an Adoptive Mom

Recently, I caught up with a friend who had just welcomed a new baby. Listening to her talk about life with a newborn fascinated me. Many moms take those early baby challenges for granted, but I didn’t get to experience them because my daughter didn’t come into my life as a newborn.

The conversations reminded me just how much goes into those early days — and how much of that season I never lived through, but still grieved in quiet ways.

Breastfeeding is time-consuming and requires so much planning.
Naps shape the entire rhythm of the day.
Postpartum recovery is a careful balance of healing while caring for a tiny human.
And of course, there are the sleepless nights.

I often say we were lucky to miss the sleepless nights. My daughter moved into our home already sleeping twelve hours a night thanks to her wonderful foster mom, who followed strict sleep guidelines. Many moms look at me with disbelief when I share that information. And truthfully, not going through pregnancy and delivery? Also a blessing.

But skipping the “challenging” parts of having a newborn also meant skipping the joys.

What I Missed as an Adoptive Mom

I never felt my baby kick before she was born.
I never saw her ultrasound or heard her heartbeat.
I wasn’t there to comfort her during withdrawals or to answer her cries in those first months of life.

Even now, I don’t know exactly what her earliest days looked like. I can only hope with everything in me that she was well cared for.

During that same catch-up conversation, my friend mentioned something that stuck with me. She said her baby doesn’t cry for no reason. If he cries, it’s because he needs something — food, a clean diaper, or simply to be held.

Her words instantly took me back to our foster care training. We were taught that many babies entering care don’t cry at all. If their cries go unanswered long enough, they stop crying altogether. How heartbreaking that a tiny, innocent baby can already learn that no one is coming for them — that crying is useless.

Some might see a foster baby as calm or “easy,” when in reality, they’ve already endured deep loss and learned not to ask for help.

Our Sleepless Nights Looked Different

While we didn’t have newborn wake-ups, adoption brought its own version of sleepless nights.

I lay awake worrying about things like:

Did I fill out the paperwork correctly?
Will a caseworker find a relative who wants to take her in?
Is this case really heading toward adoption and what will happen at the next court date?
What if her CASA or caseworker don’t think we’re the right fit?

The worry didn’t end until the final gavel strike at her adoption hearing.

Forgetting She’s Adopted

As my daughter grows, the honest truth is that I forget she’s adopted. She feels like she has always been mine.

A few years ago, I was in the toy aisle when a woman asked for help choosing a birthday gift for a one-year-old. I tried to remember what my daughter loved at that age… but I couldn’t. I didn’t really know her when she was one.

I laughed as I explained she was adopted and hadn’t lived with us then, and helped the woman choose based on what my daughter liked later on.

Another time, at the dentist, the doctor asked when she got her first tooth. I had to admit I didn’t know. He laughed in surprise, and I smiled and explained, “She’s adopted — I wasn’t there for some of her firsts.”

Those little moments remind me that our story is different, but no less full.

Every Momma Has a Hard and a Beautiful

I guess that’s why I’m writing this. Because motherhood is hard.
It’s hard when you give birth.
It’s hard when you adopt.
It’s hard when you’re still waiting for your turn.

Each of us carries our own version of “hard,” along with moments of joy and wonder. And even if our stories look different than we imagined, we share the same truth: being a momma is both the hardest and the best thing in the world.

If you’re reading this in a season that looks different than you expected, you’re not alone.

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