The Reality of the “Loving Adoptive Home”. A Mother’s Day Reflection

This piece shows the incredible depth, compassion, and sentimentality of the author through her personal experiences with adoption.

The Myth of the “Loving Adoptive Home”: A Mother’s Day Reflection
Pamella Leiter, South Haven, MI

Mother’s Day is approaching; for many, it brings flowers, brunch, and phone calls home. For me, it brings reflection and heartache. My story doesn’t fit inside a greeting card. It doesn’t end in neat resolution or soft-edged sentimentality.

At age fifty, filled with regret for not having children, I convinced my then-husband to adopt. We were too old to be considered for an infant, so we were matched with a nine-year-old girl living in a Colorado group home after a previous adoption had failed. Naively, I thought love would be enough.

The girl we brought home had already learned that adults could not be trusted and that they could even be sources of abuse. She spent much of her time trying to confirm that I would eventually abandon her, too. She did this through destruction; killing my garden flowers, keying my car, killing pets, stealing from us, and even harming herself. She wasn’t bad. She was terrified. And life taught her she had every reason to be.

Still, I didn’t give up on her. I loved her as fiercely and fully as I could. I stood by her side, doing everything I knew to help her feel safe. I attended workshops and therapy, trying parenting methods that were counterintuitive to the upbringing I had. The effort nearly broke me. I developed PTSD from constant stress and emotional volatility. Eventually, my husband gave up on both of us and moved across the country. Our marriage ended in divorce.

I share this story not to seek sympathy but to complicate the narrative so often offered by those who speak casually about adoption, particularly in the context of abortion debates. When pro-life advocates argue that every embryo has a right to life, they often include a hopeful footnote:

There’s always someone who wants to adopt.

But do they understand what that really means?

Adoption isn’t a simple transfer of love from one set of arms to another. It is a lifelong
commitment to a child whose story began with loss. That loss leaves a mark, sometimes
invisible, often indelible. Some children manage to overcome it. Many do not.
Attachment trauma is real. It means a child may go through life distrusting every caregiver, every relationship. Always waiting for the next rejection. Just because a child lands in a “good home” doesn’t mean they’re on a smooth path forward. Prisons are full of adults who were once foster or adopted children. Even those who function in the world often do so thanks to years of therapy, structure, and support.

Growing up whole after being relinquished is the exception, not the rule.

Adoptive parents must ask themselves: Am I willing to love a child who may never love me
back? Am I prepared for that kind of heartbreak? These are not abstract questions. They are the daily reality for many adoptive families.

So when someone says they are “saving a life” by insisting that every pregnancy be brought to term, I wonder: where does their conscience take them after birth? What responsibility do they feel for the mothers who cannot raise their children, or for the children who grow up broken by the very systems meant to protect them? Even if a small percentage of these adoptions work out well, what about the rest? Is it God’s will that we accept the shredded lives of adoptive parents and children who never quite find solid
ground? I don’t pretend to have all the answers, but I believe that every mother deserves options. Real options. Adoption may be one answer, but it is not a universal solution.

My daughter is now an adult. I know I changed her life, even if the outcome was not what I
imagined. She has children of her own now but has no idea how to be a mother of young children. Her own infancy was filled with hunger, neglect, and sexual abuse. Despite all the therapy money could buy, she never truly healed. Through her own unavoidable negligence, her three children are now in foster care.

The cycle has begun again.

So yes, Mother’s Day is coming. I can sit knowing that I showed up for my daughter when others didn’t. That I loved her unconditionally, even when it broke me. But I cannot pretend that love alone can solve generational trauma. And I cannot support policies built on romanticized myths about adoption. Myths that ignore the brutal realities many adoptive families face.

Adoption is not a substitute for reproductive freedom. It is not a tidy alternative to abortion. It is a choice full of complexity, pain, and often, forced endurance. And it deserves to be spoken about with truth and care.