This letter was written by an adoptive mother. 

Birth Mom, First Mom, Biological Mom,

I’m not comfortable with any of these titles. I want to call those
women who gave birth to my children by their first names.

And my children can call you “Mom.”

We are, you know, both of us, moms. And I love you. Okay, so to be honest, I don’t love you every hour of every day, but often at unsuspected times, I simply love you.

Maybe you don’t understand that love. I get it. One day, a few years back, a woman waved a handwritten letter at me and said, “The couple who adopted my baby just wrote me and said they loved me. They can’t love me.”
Definitely, in the early years, the gratitude is pretty consistent, but, uh, maybe, later on, there are a few nights when pray and forget to express thanks to you.

Sometimes, when the replacement transmission for that girl’s car costs $4,000, I forget to be grateful.

Sometimes when I haven’t slept because that boy missed curfew, I’m not feeling grateful.

But the rest of the time, yes, we are.

Because of that love and gratitude, we don’t want you isolated. Please, come to the social workers or the agency, or someone to have your feelings validated.

Because that’s what moms do—adoptive mothers,
birth mothers, first mothers—they stick together.