Responses to Adoption Plan

So, before I even started to show (month 4!) - responses seemed to fall into one of these four categories (listed in order of how common they occur): A) you should abort B) you should raise the baby yourself C) you are a hero - like a surrogate! (I am quick to correct people - NOT A HERO! - I am just someone who got knocked up on accident and doesn't believe in abortion) D) ADOPTION IS THE RIGHT CHOICE FOR YOU! A) seemed to come from every angle - even people who knew me and knew my heart. How disturbing it is to me that the inconvenience of pregnancy seems to be a large enough reason for otherwise compassionate and intelligent people to turn into murderers. B) has two different factions. There is the "you will learn to love the baby" party - that claims I am wrong about my inability to give any more than I already have. They are the delusional folks from my first pregnancy who believed everything would just be wonderful once I decided not to abort the baby. The second party's tagline is more like "your problem = your responsibility" - this group believes if God permitted me to get knocked up - then He must have planned for me to raise the baby. I can see the logic - and I firmly believe God blesses any of our choices if our intentions are aligned with love. However, I knew completely that this baby was mine only to grow - that I was the vessel... for another family's desires. (more about this mindset in additional posts) C) these misinformed folks think that there is some sort of maternal love that I am sacrificing for another - or that I possess superhuman selflessness. Instead - the plan to adopt is pretty much 100% selfish - on my part. I am trapped in a 10 month journey where my body is held hostage by a life form that my choices created. Adoption ensures that the hostage negotiation ends at delivery - and permits me to return to my real life without additional responsibilities. It is hard for people to grasp if they are the types of folks who get mushy around babies. I am not that type of person - and I never have been. I view this entire process as a long term babysitting gig; I will do everything in my power to keep this child healthy and safe - so that the real family can take the baby home at the end of the extended stay. D) These are mainly the folks who know me. They have seen me struggle, they watched my heartache as I barely survived being a solo parent. They have seen my sacrifices to provide stability for my son, and have seen how we have gone without... These are the folks who look with both logic and compassion - who know that there are many families longing for babies - and who trust that God's plan might not be as straightforward and clear as we often hope - but who know that life is precious and full of possibility - and that God will work all things for His glory - if we just walk the path He has given us.

Telling people...

The first person I told was in the form of a phone call to EC. Although we had not spoken recently (life and distance letting us drift apart) - we had spoken 7 years earlier about his wife's desire for children, and their inability to carry a baby to term. At that time, sitting around our kitchen table (before we broke up the first time), both G and I said, "If we ever get pregnant by accident, you can have the baby." I called and poured everything out for him - stressing the fact that I was "old" by childbirthing standards -which increased the possibility of birth defects. I also let him know that I would be carrying the baby to term regardless of his decision, and that the baby would be adopted -whether to him or to another family - and that he should not feel any pressure either way. I reiterated my stance that ALL LIFE IS PRECIOUS - and that this pregnancy was a blessing for someone - just not for me. He said beautiful things about praying for the baby's health and my own - and that everything would work out - and said he would talk it over with his wife. The second person I told was my friend TF, sitting in her car after Mass that first morning - just hours after the test results revealed this journey had already begun. She was instantly supportive, "I'm here, whatever you decide." - she must have thought I was leaning towards abortion - because she referred to the baby as "a clump of cells" at this stage. I adamantly refused - that's not what I meant when I said "It's not my baby." I explained that this baby had a family out there - they just didn't know it yet. She promised to keep my secret for now - and to help however she could. The next person was the pharmacist, mentioned in the last post. Then G. That was four people in one day... Then, time passed. I tried to schedule a dr. visit - but everyone was full - and they wanted to schedule the first visit during the time I had planned a giant road trip cross country with my son. Since I didn't track my periods, I didn't know how far along I was, but my sex life was so infrequent during this maritial separation, I knew when conception occurred - and I put myself around 5 weeks by this time. Perhaps pyschosomatically, I began feeling sharp pain in my left side - and wondered if the pregnancy was ectopic. The only place that would see me on such short notice, to rule out ectopic pregnancy, was Planned Parenthood. Although I am aware of all the wonderful services they provide at low cost, I am strictly opposed to abortion as a form of birth control - and their name is synonymous with abortion. I have been pro-life my whole life. I do not hate or shame anyone who has had an abortion - and I have seen first hand the pain and grief and hurt that women AND men feel after they have made that choice. I have attended the March for Life with youth groups and as an adult as well. My facebook page posts in January proclaim that All Life Is Precious - and I am public in my opposition to the death penalty and abortion as birth control. It was an uncomfortable visit, not just because they put the sonogram wand inside my vagina (no one's favorite activity) but also because EVERY person I interacted with there used the word "terminate." The intake nurse said something along the lines of "if you decide to terminate, we have options we can utilize today, and the doctor will explain those." When I greeted the doctor, I explained that I was pregnant unintentionally, and that this baby would be adopted out. The doctor sort of smiled ruefully and said, "we have other options, and if you do decide to terminate, it is easier earlier - rather than later." Another nurse said, "I couldn't do that." when I explained I would be trying to grow the healthiest baby I could - to give to someone else. Even after confirming that the pregnancy was developing normally, baby happily attached inside the uterus, they tried handing me pamphlets about these 'termination options' that they offered. I couldn't help but wonder how many uncertain mothers had been swayed by these medical professionals who had become so desensitized to the murder of children. And then, I didn't tell anyone for a while. Before my trip, I had coffee with a friend (K) who had struggled with infertility in her own life. She had attended a March for Life pilgrimage with me, and she listened as I poured out my frustration at the situation and my fears for my health and how to tell my son and everything that had been building up since I first found out. She was exactly the support I needed at the time. She didn't invalidate my concerns or try to present a different solution. She just heard me and supported me and made it okay. It was OKAY not to be excited about being pregnant. It was OKAY to know I couldn't raise another child. It was OKAY to be scared of this whole process. AND - it was OKAY to trust that God would work even this into a blessing. G and I agreed we would each tell our children ourselves. Since I had the big trip with my kiddo, I figured I would tell him on the road - which would give us enough time to have as many conversations as we needed to get on the same page. G's boys already had a half a dozen half siblings out there, some of whom they knew - some they had never met, so I didn't anticipate it would be big news for them to digest. My sister had adopted 10 kids, so the idea of adoption wasn't foreign to our family. My son was stoic and accepting. We have always had honesty and transparency, so I felt comfortable telling him. His response was, "OK - well, it's gonna be really hard for you to lose all that weight since you don't like to work out." haha! And later - "It's your choice, it doesn't affect me." I slept a lot during that trip - growing a baby takes a lot of energy! My son was so understanding. (G never got around to telling his boys - but since they talk on the phone nearly every day, they were aware before we got back from the trip.) On the road trip, I called my cousin DC, who was aware of my pro-life stance and I knew would be supportive of my adoption plan, and he responded perfectly by saying, "whatever you decide is a brave choice." In Wyoming, I reached out to American Adoptions - because I found the baby's family. THAT deserves a post of its own.... (forthcoming!) - and the agency's response was perfect. Each member I spoke to was kind and reassured me that I could change my mind at any time - and they thanked me for exploring this option. I was assigned an advocate (Rachel) - and we spoke more in Utah, once I got to an area with cell reception. We scheduled a time to talk with the family I had chosen - after I returned home. I stopped by another cousin's (VS) house at the very end of the road trip, a cousin who shares my faith and is pro-life as well. She was NOT as supportive as I anticipated. She was vehement about me raising the child myself. My confusion was enormous... She often expressed how difficult it was to parent and work full time - and she had a spouse! She had seen my struggle to raise Daig alone - and how long it took for us to have "basic" things - such as a house - that she took for granted. She had seen me barely surviving the past decade plus.... and she still felt strongly that I should accept the burden as a blessing - and keep the baby. Even more disconcerning was when I informed my sister of both the pregnancy and the adoption plan. She said (a quote that horrified me), "It's not too late for an abortion." Since she has known me my whole life, I was shocked at her response. I was even angry. Adoption wasn't wrong - why was she so quick to rule it out? (In subsequent conversations - it became clear that she was trying to be supportive and if I had been on the fence, she wanted me to know she would love me regardless of my choice. However, it pushed me further away from her because I had already told her my intention to adopt.)

The Adoption Journey Begins

Now that you have the brief overview of the last 12 years, let's bring you up to speed to this adoption story (the reason I named the blog "Normalize Adoption"). In early 2022, the 'relationship' we tried to salvage by getting married collapsed under the weight of continued lies and misaligned hopes and beliefs. We separated - him with his two children, and me with my one. Over the next four months, we still got the kids together, met up 'just us' without them; we talked and texted all the time. While trying to scavenge any piece of what I had poured myself into for years, I found myself waking alone (after a night he'd promised to come over) and wondering when the last time I had my period was. Yup ... That test told me instantly "someone else is having a baby." I knew it immediately; somewhere out there - a family longing for a baby has had their wish granted. Now, immediately - this is where the explaining begins. My ex and I were both "trapped" into being single parents. We had each spent over a decade raising our kids to the level of self-sufficiency where they could be left alone and trusted. We had sacrificed, separately and together, and had promised there would be no more babies. So, when I saw that test - I didn't need a minute - I didn't sit on the edge of the tub and relearn how to take a breath... I prayed that God would let me know when I had found this baby's family - and for the pregnancy itself to be a healthy one. That day, a Sunday, I went to Mass and listened to the reading about how we Gentiles are adopted children of God - and the homily reminded us that God the Father loves all His children and has plans to give each of us a life of abundance. I pulled my friend aside after, and told her that I was pregnant and would be giving the baby up for adoption. She was supportive and encouraging - and promised to keep my secret until I was ready to tell. She even mentioned a local family she knew who were longing for a child...so many families out there looking for children... I drove to a pharmacy (in the city - not in my small, rural town), and discussed my age (41!!!!!) and which prenatal vitamin would be best for this "Geriatric Pregnancy." I told the pharmacist that this would be an adoption - and she teared up and said she was proud of me. I laughed it off - as I would for the next 9 months whenever someone was kind in their response to this news. "I'm not a hero or a surrogate! I just got knocked up and don't believe in murdering babies!" On my way to the bookstore to buy a copy of What to Expect When You Are Expecting, I called my ex. I told him I didn't mean for it to happen, and that I wholeheartedly intended to give the baby up for adoption - to someone far away from our social circles, as long as he was okay with keeping to our 'no more babies' vow. He thanked me for staying with the plan, and told me he would sign whatever I needed him to sign - whenever that time came. Acceptance, of the pregnancy and of the adoption plan, FOR ME was nearly instantaneous. But - the journey was just beginning...

Single Mom Struggles

Look - if you are a single parent - you get it. There is nothing I can say here that you don't already feel or struggle with. And, if you are NOT a single parent - you cannot fully understand. People joke, during hunting season for example, that they are 'basically a single parent' - but they aren't. They have that other income or adult or driver or disciplinarian or WHATEVER their significant other is. Even those on deployment or in jail are still contributing to your life - mentally supportive, emotionally avai;able, or financially - in some way. Some folks get government assistance, or survivor benefits, or alimony, or child support. But for those of us who are in it ALONE (with capital letters) - it is mind numbingly exhausting. Self-doubt crashes over you; you have no sounding board to turn to when there are big decisions to make, worry and concern plague your every waking moment, and you battle everything - every day - with no real sense of an end in sight. BUT - it does get better...you keep putting one foot in front of the other - and then something changes. You leave diapers, formula, baby food, and car seats in the past. You find a reliable sitter - or someone to donate hand-me-downs to keep your fast growing kid clothed. You find a decent school and eliminate the cost of daycare. Someone gifts a box of toys their children outgrew - right before Christmas. And, eventually, your kiddo starts tackling chores and helping with daily tasks (oh man - my son started EARLY) - and your job situation evens out - and even though you can't remember the last decade and change beyond the blur of "SURVIVING" - you are suddenly shopping for back to school clothes for a middle schooler and seeing your child take responsibility for their mistakes, beliefs, decisions... And - somehow - it feels like you have moved past just "SURVIVING"... And - it is NOT yet "THRIVING" .... but it is .... "ARRIVING" You start to make job decisions that provide work-life balance (a term that was as elusive as a unicorn up until now). You start reconnecting with friends - or even making new ones. You splurge a little on things you couldn't have DREAMED of affording before - like - ice cream after a sporting event, a puppy, a vacation... Your child develops interests and hobbies and passions - makes friends and plans with them. Your conversations together wander into scientific aspects of the creation of the earth, morality of various life choices, and theories into surviving a zombie apocolypse. And you feel like you can breath... that you aren't treading water anymore... that the waves might be lapping at your chin - and storm clouds may still be brewing overhead... but you can feel the earth beneath your feet - like you are almost standing...not quite in the shallows - but - arriving at the shore.

I WASN'T READY TO BE A MOM...

Come with me on the journey - going back in time - to late 2009. I was 28, traveling every chance I had - in between teaching full time and my part-time airline job, getting drunk on the daily - and making out with a handsome guy who had a key to my house, even though we weren't consistently dating. Coming back from my annual St Thomas Caribbean vacation, W mentioned he had never seen me sleep so much - and maybe I should take a test. I laughed it off at the time (we were taking precautions), but a week or two later -when he continued to insist - I bought two tests without telling anyone. Getting ready to go to the bar that evening, I figured I would take a test quickly (knowing first morning urine had more probability of early detection) and that I could see a negative result and move on with my planned night of intoxication. Before I even set it down level and washed my hands, I saw a bright line moving across it - and reassured myself that the control stripe was working - so I had nothing to fear. I had taken pregnancy tests before, and tried not to think about it - busying myself with other things as I waited for the required 3 minutes to pass. When I picked it up to check, I immediately felt icy - as there were two bold and unmistakeable lines. I scanned the product label repeatedly, hoping I was reading it wrong. I felt numb, with a hum in my ears, and I had trouble walking to the door of my bedroom. I called A (my roommate - a single mom of a 3 year old daughter - who worked multiple jobs to make ends meet), and she came into the bathroom. She confirmed what the test said, and said something like, "holy shit, what are you going to do?" I said, "I just need a minute." - my typical response for anything momentarily overwhelming - whether pain or bad news or obstacle. She left me sitting on the tub - panicking quietly. I don't remember everything I was thinking at the time, but I remember thinking that a baby would change everything - and that I wasn't going to be a good parent. I remember being terrified I would end up resenting my child - like my mother did (and I wanted to be nothing like her). I even know that I thought about how W was way too young to be a good dad - and worried that he would think I trapped him with this. I worried that my drinking during the last few weeks/months (I didn't know how far along I was) would have caused birth defects. Having been raised Catholic - I had been exposed to the message that humans are created in God's image and that ALL life is precious. But, that did not mean that I felt ANY sense of blessing or joy about this development. Instead, I sat on the tub and tried to get my mind aligned with this new reality. I was pregnant - unintentionally and outside of wedlock. They say the first step is acceptance. Having grown up on a farm, I had mastered that skill. There is no changing what has already happened. That acceptance is always immediately followed by "what are we going to do about it?" - which was a question I couldn't answer alone at that time. But, after a few deep breaths on the edge of the bathtub, I knew that the reality of a baby growing inside me meant that a lot had to change really quickly. My best friend, C, was waiting for us in the living room. Before he started the car, I showed him a picture of the positive test - and his response was, "I'm here for you - whatever you decide - I will even punch you in the stomach or throw you down the stairs if you need; we could make it look like an accident." I tried to laugh it off, but I felt so strange - knowing that someone was growing inside me and probably able to hear everything being said - even if not yet able to comprehend it. I struggled through a few hours at the bar - unable to drink the pint they had automatically set in front of me - and barely picking at my two for one appetizers. I told everyone my stomach felt off - maybe some bad food I had eaten? and eventually made it home to my bed. Looking back now, I know I talked to the baby - but I don't remember what I said. I'm sure there were some reassurances that I would try my best to help baby grow healthy - and SO many apologies. A few nights later, I told W. He was beyond excited - literally so ecstatic - like a kid with a puppy. As tears flowed, I told him I was ashamed - and told him we could put the baby up for adoption - that no one besides C and A knew, that My family was 750 miles away, and that in a year - it would be like this never happened. He was adamant - that this was his kid and that he would take such good care of us. He was all smiles - saying we needed to hurry up and get married, and that he was ready to be a dad and husband. He couldn't stop touching my belly - and his reaction lifted a little bit of this weight that had been stifling me. If W was excited - and willing to change and make sacrifices, maybe it would be okay. I started prenatal vitamins, called around to find places that took my insurance, and tried to perform the logical and required steps necessary to become a parent. We were married at the courthouse in record time. W told his whole family immediately (and lied about that to me) and pressured me to tell my family too. Each phone call I made was taxing - everyone said all the congratulatory things, but I still felt a pit in my stomach. Whenever I dared to share my 'less than excited' stance, people dismissed it - saying "Oh, that will all change when you.... (fill in the blank)" - Yet these milestones kept happening - (1st ultrasound, hearing the heartbeat, picking out names, starting to show, baby shower, creating the registry, decorating the nursery, going into labor, holding him for the first time, breastfeeding, seeing him smile, talking to him) - nearly 3 years worth of milestones... and it still wasn't a natural "mother's heart." W had long since gone (domestic violence added to the drug /alcohol addition and untreated mental illness finally opened my eyes to say 'enough is enough'). I had been juggling multiple jobs and barely making enough to pay the sitter (let alone cover diapers or food)... and the days just kept coming. I remember crying in the shower - telling God it was okay if I didn't wake up the next morning. And then... my son was nearly 3 years old.... and we had a whole afternoon of sunshine - with no stress over punching into work on time or finding a ride for the sitter or anything... and we were spinning ourselves dizzy in a field - and he was laughing as he tried to stand up and walk. And - my heart changed. Right in that moment - I was suddenly beyond grateful that God gave me this tiny human being - this peculiar little man - and that He trusted me to raise him. And - that's how I became a mom.