At the root, my story does not differ from any other birth mother’s tale— the same heartache, loss, grief, sadness, and longing ooze from our fingertips.
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At the root, my story does not differ from any other birth mother’s tale— the same heartache, loss, grief, sadness, and longing ooze from our fingertips.
As I sat on the chilling cold tile floor of my college dorm bathroom, I found no irony in the double red lines that stared back at me. The one who never longed to become a mother was now becoming just that.
Being a birthmother feels as courageous as reaching the highest summit. The view from the top is both frightening and incredibly rewarding.