Being an adoptee on Mother’s Day is strange. Growing up, it was a typical celebration with brunch and flowers, but as I’ve gotten older, it’s become more complicated. (1/7)

Mother’s Day is also a day of mourning for me. However, it’s hard to explain what it means to mourn someone you never knew, and a relationship that never was and never will be. (2/7)

When I was little, I was scared to talk about it because I didn’t want to hurt my mom’s feelings. I had also internalized the notion that as an adoptee, I needed to be thankful and express this appreciation. (3/ 7)

(Please note that this wasn’t due to anything my parents told me. They never came off as white savior-y, but they also didn’t hold space to talk about my identity as a transracial adoptee. These are talks we’re having now.) (4/7)

On Mother’s Day, I think about my biological mother a lot. I wonder who she is, what she’s doing, if she’s thinking about me, if my nose looks like hers, if we have the same mannerisms. (5/7)

There’s so much I want to tell her. That I love her regardless, that I know she loved me even if it meant us not being together, that I’m not angry with her at all, I just miss her a lot. (6/7)

To the adoptees, birth parents, and foster parents out there, this shit is hard. I see you and I love you. (7/7)