As you may or may not know, I placed a baby girl for adoption just over 11 years ago. For privacy reasons, I am not able to post any of her information for now. This isn't going to be much about our story either; I just would like to talk about some things that have been bothering me lately.
1. For starters, when it came down to making the decision I did, I would like you to know that I actually considered abortion for a while. I was staunchly pro-life up until that point. I can only say you will never know how you really feel about something until you have to go through it yourself. Thankfully, my older brother calmly talked me out of it. The birth father was livid and threatened to take me to court with a custody battle. He does not have the same values as I do, and I in no way wanted him in my life for the rest of my life. He finally relented to letting me place the baby for adoption with the caveat that he be left out of the rest of the process. He basically walked away and pretended it never happened. He even got married a short time later and never told her about any of it.
I also considered raising the baby myself with the support of my family. I was 22, had a good support network, and loved that little girl more than anything. I could have made it work, I know that. What finally changed my mind was when I re-re-re-re-re-read my patriarchal blessing. It's a special blessing (a kind of prayer said in our behalf) done by a designated elder in my church that provides guidance for the person receiving the blessing. It stated:
Your life will not be without challenges, your life will not be without difficulties, but your life will be successful, if based upon the principles of the gospel and a willingness to adhere thereto... (emphasis added)
I had received my blessing back in 1994, seven years prior to the decision I was making. There it was, plain and simple. The choice to raise my daughter on my own was not based upon the principles of the gospel. The only way she could ever be sealed to me was if someone came along and married me and legally adopted her. Then we would all be sealed together. Sealing makes possible the existence of family relationships throughout eternity, which is why we get married in a temple for time and all eternity instead of civilly/until death do us part. She could be mine, but not forever. I knew what I willingly had to do.
It was hard. Really. Really. Really. Really hard. I sobbed for days. I was in a dark place and it took weeks for me to feel anything other than pain. I was numb. I wasn't hungry and didn't eat. What sleep I got was restless. I wondered if I would ever feel that kind of love for any babies I might have in some unknown future.
Slowly I worked through the grieving process. My family, church, friends, and faith are what got me through. I would have good days, but then would see a little baby girl with dark hair the same age as mine and I would lose it.
What completed my healing process was time and distance. I moved to California, got a great job at Disney, met my husband (even though that took four years to happen), and finished school. I even got to see my baby girl again. Twice.
I still think about her, especially around her birthday. I long for the day when I get to meet her again. I have to wait until the timing is right. She has two other adopted siblings in her family, and I have been asked to wait until they get to meet their mom too. So I have contact with her adoptive Mom, just not much. It's better than nothing though, and I know I get to see her again (relatively) soon.
2. All the adoption books/songs seem to talk about the birth mom being some rebellious/irresponsible teenager. While I am certain they represent a fair number, they certainly aren't the only scenario. Maybe it's someone who was raped, maybe it's a couple that can't afford to take care of another baby, or maybe it's a twenty-something college student who had some serious self-esteem issues and had given up on hoping for their happy ending because all their friends were married and nobody seemed interested in them.
And why does premarital sex seem to be the only way someone can be rebellious? Just because the consequences of my decisions were visually obvious (pregnant belly) does NOT mean your kid isn't making any mistakes. Sometimes I wished everyone else's sins could be so obvious.
3. Adoption is still so so so so taboo. People mention it under hushed breath. I've had several acquaintances mention it was something they were looking into and almost all of them talk about it as if they were ashamed of even considering it. Sure. I get it. It's a sensitive subject and nobody really knows how to talk about it properly because NObody seems to talk about it. We all know how to fix that, right? Hint: TALK ABOUT IT. Now I don't mean gossip. AT. ALL. What I mean is this: if you have questions, ask! Teach your children that adoption is an OK thing! If they hear you be secretive about it, they will learn to adopt (see what I did there?) the same stance. Ask a birth mother their story. Ask an adoptive couple theirs. Ask an older adopted child what their thoughts are. Don't interrogate them obviously, but respectfully ask if they don't mind answering a few questions. Chances are they will be more than happy to share.
4. In the triangle of adoption, the birth parents are the only ones to lose something and not get anything in exchange.
Adoptive parents lose the chance to have biological children, but get children still.
The child loses their biological parents, but gets their adoptive parents.
The birth parents lose their child, and get you guessed it: nada.
Now before you chime in with, "But the birth parents get a fresh start at life, etc." just know that a fresh start at life does not ease the ache of empty arms that once held a sweet newborn baby.
What I am trying to say here is this, the next time you find out someone is a birth mother, don't say/ask any of these hurtful and unhelpful things:
I could never give my baby away.
Do you regret it?
Aren't you glad you don't have to take care of a baby now?
I wouldn't be strong enough to do that.
How could you ever do something like that?
You made the best decision, you know that right?
Try one of these instead:
That must have been really hard, how are you doing now?
If you ever want someone to talk to about it, I am here for you.
I'd like to know more of your story, do you mind sharing it with me?
And that's pretty much it. If they want to tell you more, they will.
5. I know you think I am strong, selfless, courageous, an angel, a saint, etc. I do appreciate you telling me so. I don't know how to respond when you praise me for my decision. I mumble out some awkward form of thanks. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me.
I don't feel strong, selfless, courageous, angelic, or saintlike. I feel sorrow, heartache, loss, grief, sadness, broken. I still do now and then even 11 years later.
Please don't be put off by my awkwardness. I just don't feel any of those nice things.
Now that I've made this post much longer than I originally intended, I am heading to ZzzZzz land for the night. Thanks for reading.
