You Can Always Adopt.
One of the first things people say after finding out I can’t have children is this:
“You can still have kids — just not the traditional way.”
Or the ever-popular:
“You can always adopt.”
And I get it. I do. I know those words usually come from love and from people who want to offer hope, to wrap up the heartbreak with a bow and give me something else to hold onto.
But what they don’t realize is how heavy those words feel when your heart is already shattered.
When someone tells me I can still have kids — “just differently” — what they don’t see is the depth of what was lost. Because for me, it wasn’t just about having a child. It was about carrying my child. It was about the experience I had dreamed of since I was a little girl — feeling kicks, picking out names with my partner, waddling through Target with a belly I had waited so long for, giving birth, looking into a baby’s eyes and seeing myself or the person I love reflected back. It was about experiencing pregnancy, birth, and motherhood in the way I had always pictured — and then suddenly, all of that was taken away without warning.
So yes, there are other ways to become a parent. But when you’re grieving the way you thought it would happen — the only way you ever imagined it would happen — hearing “you can just adopt” doesn’t soothe the wound. It skips right over it.
Adoption is beautiful, but it’s also complicated. It’s not a replacement for what I lost. It’s not an easy Plan B. It doesn’t erase the trauma of infertility or the pain of a hysterectomy. It’s its own journey — financially, emotionally, mentally — and it deserves more than being treated like the default solution to something people don’t know how to sit with.
What I need most isn’t someone to fix it. I just need someone to say, “I’m so sorry. That’s an incredibly painful loss.”
Because it is. And it deserves to be honored — not dismissed or re-routed as if the destination is all that matters.
I know people want to help. I know they hate seeing someone they care about in pain. But the next time you’re tempted to say “You can always adopt,” maybe pause and ask instead, “How are you feeling about everything?” Or just say, “I can’t imagine how hard this is, but I’m here for you.”
Because sometimes, the kindest thing you can offer someone in grief isn’t a solution — it’s space to grieve.