I don’t think that there’s ever a good time or a good way to tell your parents that you’re pregnant, but I have to tell you before you read any further – the way I handled it was probably the worst way to go about it. It’s not any easier when you are in your 20’s than I imagine it would be when you are in your teens. The only comforting thought was that I could retreat to my own apartment when it was over instead of us all being in the same house, having to face each other over and over again every day.

It was a 20 minute drive from my apartment to my parents’ house and the whole way there I ran through different scenarios. I tried to picture what I would say and how they would react. The reactions I imagined ranged from tears to outrage. My heart was fluttering wildly and that “morning sickness” (that for me was all day sickness) seemed closer to the surface that usual. I blame my nervousness entirely on what happened next.

As soon as my Mom let me in the house, I followed her to the living room, plopped down on the sofa and in one breath I made my announcement, “I am pregnant, I’m placing my baby for adoption and while I don’t need your financial support, I would appreciate your emotional support.”

I cringed at the awkward way I had made my announcement and I was further upset when I saw the dazed expressions on their faces. I had done this all wrong, I knew it. I was griping the backpack with the profiles in it like I was ready to run screaming from the house at any moment. It was my Dad who recovered first, he blinked his green eyes rapidly and began asking questions.

“Have you seen a doctor yet?” he asked.

“No,” I admitted, and smiled despite myself. My Dad was a hospital administrator, health care was, of course, his first concern.

“Are you taking prenatal vitamins?”

“I drink a glass of orange juice and a glass of milk every day,” I responded.

My Dad gave me a stern look, and I almost laughed despite myself. This is the response I should’ve expected, this was pretty typical of my Dad. This is where the deeply logical part of me comes from.

“We could adopt the baby and raise it,” my Mom said in a quite voice, and despite the fact that my parents raising my child was the last thing I wanted, my heart swelled and I loved her so much for being willing to do that.

“Jane, we would be in our 70’s when this baby graduates high school,” My Dad said very gently.

My Mom frowned and her hazel eyes welled up with tears as she looked at me. “I’m just worried that no one else will know how to raise your baby, just as I haven’t always known how to raise you.” She said.

Tears sprung to my eyes. My Mom and I have always been very different, I tended to take more after my Dad, but I never dreamed that she attributed those differences to some fault with her or how she was raising me. It was like the Earth shifted under my feet as I looked at my Mom with new eyes. I wondered how many bratty teenage fits she blamed herself for, thinking it was some short coming on her part, and it broke my heart.

“Mom,” I choked out between sobs, “you’ve been the best Mom I could ask for.” I said as I hugged her and together we cried. We cried for things that had apparently gone unspoken between us for too long, for the baby that we would welcome into the world and then have to say goodbye to. We cried for each other, both of us imagining the heartbreak that laid ahead, not for ourselves but for the other one. Even my Dad’s eyes welled with tears. When we were all cried out, we discussed things calmly and rationally.

My Dad was adamant that I needed to call and make a Doctor’s appointment first thing on Monday, and I promised I would. When I told them about the meeting with Mary from the Attorney’s office, my Mom said she would be there to offer her guidance and support. These were the easy things to sort out, more complicated was who else would we tell?

On both sides of my family I had cousins who were currently involved in the adoption process, trying to adopt, so we decided not to tell our family, beyond our family immediate circle. I wasn’t comfortable having my baby go somewhere so close to home, where I would be involved in the baby’s life but expected not to be overly involved. I didn’t want them to feel rejected that I wasn’t considering them but I didn’t want to be pressured by them either, keeping the pregnancy quiet was probably safer.

I carefully fanned out the profiles and let my parents review them. I didn’t say a word, as I didn’t want my feelings or thoughts to shade theirs. After reading all of them my Mom looked up at me very seriously.

“You are 100% sure, that you want to place this child for adoption,” she asked and after I nodded at her she continued, “because I can’t imagine any greater heartbreak than to tell someone you’re giving them a child and then to take that away from them.”

“I’m sure Mom, I want something more for my baby then what I can give it right now.” I said and she sensed the sincerity in what I was saying.

My Mom and I put our heads together to go over the profiles again. My Dad restlessly excused himself, he said he was going to get the names of some doctors. I sensed what he couldn’t say, that putting this baby up for adoption was going to be harder on him than he was was going to be able to say.

My Mom narrowed the profiles down to three, my top two were in her three. I explained my concerns about the cat allergy to her and so we eliminated one of her three. Like me, once we were down to the same two she felt a pull towards one couple over the other. There are really no words to say why, but I felt more confident in my decision with my Mom and I on the same page.

When I left, I had the other profiles in my bag but I kept out Beth and John to look at over and over again, they were the parents I told myself as I flipped through the profile, MY adoptive parents. I looked at the house and I imagined my baby (sometimes a little boy, sometimes a little girl) sitting at the table and playing in the living room.