“PLEASE STOP SAYING MOTHER/FATHER” a response

Dear Infertile Woman,

Why do you get to decide what we choose to call our biological parents? Before you realized your infertility, would you have felt this strongly about what your children choose to call their real parents? Would you not be deeply insulted if your daughter looked you in the face and said “You aren’t my real mother. The fact that you gave life to me means absolutely nothing. You’re nothing but a egg-donor”? Answer, I’m curious.

I’m sorry to tell you this but parenthood isn’t something that you can buy on a contract. Its a biological process when a a man and a woman conceive a child together, preferable in the marriage bed. Naturally, if manipulative man-made technology didn’t exist to corrupt the conception process, it would be the egg ‘donor’ who would carry the child, birth the child, fall deeply in love with the child and raise the child. She has my eyes, my ears, my nose and my personality. Therefore, she is my mother. But don’t take my word for it, why don’t you do yourself a favor and research the medical definition of a mother yourself. Does it say anything about how contracts and money decides parentage? Tell me.

She is my real mother. She was who was suppose to raise me, if man hadn’t corrupted human reproduction. She abandoned me, and you encouraged it because you couldn’t have your own biological child. To call her nothing but a egg cell is a disrespect to my identity as a person. She is NOT a object, nor is she a servant who provided you a service. She is HALF of who I am!! She is a PERSON.

She is the woman who gave me life. And no amount of contracts, technology, emotional manipulation, and money is ever going to rip her eye colors from my irises, or her dimples off my cheeks, or her lips off my smile, or tear her out of my DNA. She is my ancestor. She is my foremother. She is me, and I am her. The bond we have is almost like the bond I have with God. Thank goodness I got the chance to meet her. Thank goodness I got the chance to call her “mom”. Thank goodness I got the chance to forgive her for being a poor singled mother who didn’t have any other option to support her family but to sell her own children. Thank goodness we had the chance to cry in each other’s arms and admit how much we missed each other, how much we love each other, and how much we thought of each other every single day. I see her and my father every time I look in the mirror. I see her smile, her laugh, and her strong will. You know what I don’t see? I don’t see the woman who bought me from a bank and forced me into her womb without my permission. And I definitely do not see the money and the contracts hiding my mother’s features. Sorry.

Love, an egg donor’s daughter