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.
So many moms take those early challenges for granted—but I didn’t get to experience them. My daughter didn’t come into my life as a newborn.
And as we talked, I was reminded of something I don’t always say out loud:
There are parts of early motherhood I never lived through…
but still grieved in quiet ways.
The Parts I Didn’t Experience
Breastfeeding that takes time, planning, and patience.
Naps that shape the entire rhythm of the day.
Postpartum recovery—healing while caring for a tiny human.
And of course… the sleepless nights.
I often say we were lucky to miss the sleepless nights.
My daughter came to us already sleeping twelve hours a night, thanks to her incredible foster mom who followed strict sleep routines.
And not going through pregnancy and delivery?
Also, in many ways—a blessing.
But skipping the hard parts also meant skipping the beautiful ones.
What I Missed
I never felt my baby kick.
I never saw her ultrasound or heard her heartbeat.
I wasn’t there to comfort her in those first fragile months.
And even now, I don’t fully know what her earliest days looked like.
I can only hope—with everything in me—that she was cared for and safe.
A Moment That Stayed With Me
During that same conversation, my friend said something simple:
Her baby doesn’t cry for no reason.
If he cries, it’s because he needs something.
Food. Comfort. A diaper change. To be held.
And instantly, I was taken back to our foster care training.
We were taught that some babies entering care don’t cry at all.
Because if their cries go unanswered long enough…
They stop.
How heartbreaking is that?
That a baby can already learn no one is coming.
That asking for help doesn’t work.
Sometimes what looks like an “easy” baby…
is actually a child who has already learned not to need.
Our Sleepless Nights Looked Different
We didn’t have newborn wake-ups.
But adoption brought its own kind of sleepless nights.
I would lie awake thinking:
Did I fill out everything correctly?
Will a relative step forward and take her?
What will happen at the next court date?
Are we going to be able to keep her?
The worry didn’t fully end until the final gavel struck at her adoption hearing.
The Moments That Catch Me Off Guard
As my daughter has grown, something unexpected has happened:
I forget she’s adopted.
She just feels like she has always been mine.
But every once in a while, something small reminds me.
Like standing in a toy aisle, trying to remember what she loved at one year old…
and realizing I didn’t know.
Or sitting at the dentist, being asked when she got her first tooth…
and having to say, “I’m not sure.”
Those little moments don’t hurt the way they once might have.
But they do remind me:
Our story is different.
Every Momma Has a Hard and a Beautiful
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.”
And also our own version of beautiful.
Even if our stories don’t look the way we imagined, we’re often standing in the same place:
Trying our best. Loving deeply. Showing up anyway.
More from This Journey
If this part of the story resonates, you might also connect with:
- Our “Maybe Baby” Phase: Infertility and Uncertainty
- “She’s So Lucky to Have You” — Why Adoption Isn’t About Luck
- Understanding Trauma in Adoption: What I Wish I Had Known
💌 Before You Go…
If you’re in a season that looks different than you expected, you’re not alone.
And if you’d like to stay here a while, you’re always welcome.
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