The Confidence to Mother

We have seen many families come forward to say yes and open their arms to the most vulnerable children in our nation. Over twenty children are now with families who have chosen them as their own and are thriving in the love and care of families they can call their own.

Let's look into the heart of one adoptive mom's journey as she navigates being a mom to her daughter. Here, Isabelle* narrates her early process and progress as a new mom.

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"The more I mother, the more I think that I am no different from any other mother. The experience of mothering is more universal than I had ever imagined. From wondering how my own mother could ever have raised five children, to relating to both the obvious joys and unsaid hardships of fellow mothers, I think that on some basic level, motherhood is the same everywhere. 

But just like how social and personal circumstances radically alter the experience of motherhood, I think that mothering through adoption is also a thoroughly unique experience. I’m sharing mine to try to demystify it for others, and in the hope that it leads to greater acceptance and openness. 

Emma* came to us a few weeks before Christmas of 2023. Having been in the roster of prospective adoptive parents (PAPs) for more than a year, and waiting for a child for more than a decade, I couldn’t bring myself to hope when our social worker told us that we were being considered for a match. But hope, after all, was the foundation from which we had taken that leap of faith. So a month after, rushing home from the UN climate talks, I took my maternity leave and went to get her. Donned in a matching purple dress, crown, and slippers, she ran into our arms and told us, “You came here for me?” Emma—strikingly beautiful, articulate, and sweet—was every inch our dream come true. 

But of course, while becoming a parent may be a dream come true, parenting is not a fairy tale. And unlike biological parents who reconfigured themselves to their new roles under the shroud of infant care, Emma arrived right smack in the middle of her feral toddler years. At almost four years of age, she looked at us with still innocent but probing eyes, a sense of awareness of herself and the world already emerging, curious and razor-sharp.

Though she immediately called us “nanay” and “tatay,” in reality, we were people who were new to her world. She was also new to the outside world, having been brought up not just within the confines of a child caring institution, but also during the restrictive years of the COVID-19 pandemic. She was new to the very concept of family. So we had to show and name all the things that were previously unseen, unnamed, unknown—everything from dishes she may have eaten everyday but not known were called “adobo” or “sinigang,” to the fact that your parent’s parents are called “lolo” and “lola.” Your first job as an adoptive mother is to understand how the world can be strange and confusing to a child who may have been fed but not nourished, who had plenty of adults who may have treated her like family, but none to call her own.

All of these, however, also bring with it the greatest privileges and joys of being an adoptive parent. You get to be the source of all the love and comfort that your child has been deprived of. You get to witness how they delight and wonder in a world that only you—through the conscious decision to adopt—had made accessible. And once you truly choose connection above all else, you also get initiated into their world. There, you get to experience your child as the gift that they truly are: incredible little humans asking you to rediscover life and humanity with them.

Of course, the journey has been hard. There are mind-boggling behavioural conundrums, body-numbing tiredness, and self-loathing moments when you lose all the ability for emotional regulation. In the first few months, I had to struggle most with the feeling of being just another harried caregiver in my child's life. I was wracked with doubt: If it takes a village to raise a child, who appointed me the chieftain? It didn’t help that Emma had a textbook case of "indiscriminate friendliness" or the ability to attach to strangers, very typical of adoptive children. Whether actual strangers or family and friends she just met, she will publicly reject us, her parents, while laying on the charm with someone else. But even in those moments, she would actually never lose connection. She would look at me when she thought I wasn't looking, as if to test if I was still there. It would take mountains of patience, repeated moments of connecting, and many days of being together as a family before she would learn to turn to us first and foremost. 

But this is a process that PAPs need not be afraid of. While the adjustment was challenging, it also unfolded quite naturally for me. Getting to know, earning the trust, and learning how to provide nurture and emotional safety to your non-biological child is still a matter of maternal instinct. The bond it creates is just as exclusive. Expect poignant firsts, joyful intimacy you never thought possible, and countless small but indelible victories that eventually lead to growth by leaps and bounds. 

Today, one and a half years as an adoptive mother, I've come to realize that I am just another mother for whom the past does not matter as much as what the future brings. Anxious with the thought that the world Emma will inherit will be deader and tougher, I am eager to teach her everything I know. But to be honest, no one knows better about survival and resilience than a child from a place of trauma. I have learned so much from her grit, determination, and willingness to accept and love us unconditionally—fully, instantly, and without question. It is this same unconditional love that we try to give and manifest in our parenting. 

Each year, Mother's Day is celebrated to thank mothers, but we haven't really stopped to thank all the people who have made us mothers. I thank her biological mother for giving her life. I know that the warmth of her love and sacrifice has made a difference, and still resides somewhere within my daughter. I thank her child caring agency and her many caregivers, who looked after her the best they could despite government budget cuts and the limits of an institutional arrangement. I thank the staff and social workers of Generations—Home, the National Authority for Alternative Child Care, and its regional offices, who form the backbone of the adoption and foster care system. It's not a perfect system—but it's the only system that serves the best interests of the child. I believe it will function even better as the community grows and more families are encouraged to adopt and advocate for it. 

I thank my husband, who has persevered in being such a good and loving father despite Emma's unfamiliarity with, and therefore resistance to, father figures. (To all adoptive fathers still struggling, hang on—it will get better, I promise!) I thank Emma herself, both defined and undefined by the fact of her adoption. I now don't know where to attribute all her colorful traits, or if I should even try to box or label any of it. All I know is that I’m grateful for all of her. Her confidence and exuberance. Her humor and friendliness. Her expressiveness and creativity. Her independence as well as deep, constant need for comfort and affirmation. Her open and sweet rebelliousness. Perhaps what I had previously thought of as her "orphan spirit"— free and unencumbered, taking and giving it her all— really is her spirit. No longer an orphan and with a family to love and support her, I do believe that she can have it all. 

Finally, I thank my lucky stars, which aligned to make me chieftain of a unique village that raises my beloved child. I now take on the role with full confidence, though most of the time I feel less like an authority figure than my daughter’s very best friend. I may be the same as any other mother, but I am confident that in this universe, I’m the only mother she needs—and exactly the kind of mother I’ve always wanted to be."

*real names changed for privacy

Every journey and story is different. And each one is uniquely valuable and impactful, all worth celebrating.

If you are an adoptive or foster parent, know that though the journey may sometimes be challenging, from it something beautiful and worthwhile is produced. Lives are changed, not just your child's but your own as well.

We hope and pray that you go through this journey not alone, but with community and overflowing hope and joy that can never be taken from you. May you grow in confidence each day as you see your child grow into all that they can be.