As a birth mother, Mothers’ Day is a difficult time.

When entering this new world, this new home, you are never navigating your demons alone.

I often feel like I am a disappointment because I could not be everything she needed. But then I remember, long ago, that we promised to support Stephanie in becoming the happiest person she can be. And we have done that. By never giving up, and always doing what is best for her.

Within your daily chaos, between the appointments and advocating, don’t forget to take a moment to remember your why, to do small things, to remind each other that under the pile of clothes, dirty dishes and diapers, is your relationship. And until you get there: pop, pop, milk, salad.

Let’s dance. That is what we do, my son and I. We dance. We dance around so many things in our lives. It is a dance learned from the extreme trauma and loss my son experienced in his early life. It is a dance I learned instinctively in what I now know to be therapeutic parenting. It is a dance for our survival, individually and together.