A Birthmother By Any Other Name — Ruby Lee Cornelius

Recently, it was suggested to me that the term “birthmother (birth mother) demeans, oppresses and marginalizes. It renders the mother by others to ONLY the role of giving birth.”

My book is titled: Choiceless: A Birthmother’s Story of Love, Loss, and Reunion. I gave serious consideration to the title. I mean no disrespect to mothers who “by Nature and by God” gave birth to children they did not raise, rather by choice or by coercion.

After working with me to shape and share my story, my writing mentor suggested that the decision to offer my child to adoption was not my choice at all. She emphatically insisted that as a 17-year-old child, I was indeed choiceless.

I have profound respect for the woman who raised my daughter; the woman my daughter refers to as “Mom.” When my daughter introduces me to friends and family, she reverently states, “This is my birth mom.” And so I am.

The distinction is important to me. When I call myself a “birthmother,” I am telling other women who have shared my experience who I am, where I have been, and what I felt. If I simply call myself a “mother,” I invite no sharing of stories which include homes for unwed mothers, adoptions, adoptees and families of origin. I open no door for expressions of anger and grief. I may never hear the tales of the joys of reunion.

It is not my intention to take anything away from any mother. Rather, it is my hope to promote conversation in this blessed adoption triangle.