Archive for the ‘Birthparents’ Category

It’s funny how at the beginning of the pregnancy, time seemed to stretch out vast before me, like it would never be time for my son to arrive and now that April is almost over I can’t believe that in just over a month he should be here. I also can’t believe that I went from the girl that no one could believe was pregnant to this awkward, waddling woman! I think my son and I are both having problems getting comfortable lately. I don’t think he has much room to move in there and at night I seem to be having my own problems getting comfortable.

I’m also having a hard time finding peace and comfort in my relationship with Rob, we haven’t talked since the fiasco went down with his family. When we broke up while I had no delusions that we were “friends” – I did believe that with a little time and space, we might actually be able to be civil towards one another, but the pregnancy didn’t seem to give us much time or space to heal.

I’ve often tried to put myself in Rob’s shoes, to try to figure out where he’s coming from, but I have to admit that this man that I thought I knew so well, that I had planned a life with seems like a  stranger to me. There’s a time when I thought I could’ve trusted him with anything in the world and now the three pregnancy promises he made are just three more promises in a long string of promises that he made and broke. Still though, I wondered if he’s going to miss his son. I wondered if he worries about what he’ll say the day he meets him. Though mostly I just wondered what’s going on in that head of his!

Ask and you shall receive.

Rob called me, after our extended silence, and asked the usual questions but then he lingered on the phone.

“Would you like to go out to dinner tomorrow?” he asked.

“Um, sure,” I said, recognizing that an olive branch was being offered and knowing that peace needed to be made between us.

We met at a barbecue place that we used to frequent, (Rob was often on the Atkins Diet so a place where he could get heaping plates of meat was just what the doctor ordered!)  and spent several minutes trying to make idle chit chat. I wondered when this had gotten so complicated, when we were together we never seemed to run out of things to talk about, and now we couldn’t even seem to make small talk.

“I need your advice,” he finally said, while digging into a pile of smoked pork.

“Okay,” I said skeptically.

“I’m having problems with Emily,” he said and he launched into a laundry list of concerns that was developing. For example, Emily cried when she opened canned biscuits, because she was anticipating the ‘pop’ which always scared her. He offered to buy her a gun because he was concerned for her safety and she said that she would rather he spend that kind of money on something sparkly for her. She had a meltdown when they went horseback riding and they encountered wildlife on the trails.

As he kept going down the laundry list I was surprised to note that I didn’t feel anything. There is a time that even hearing her name was enough to set my teeth on edge but instead I felt nothing at all. Is this what it’s like to be friends with an ex? I listened as I would listen to any girlfriend talking about their relationship woes. I asked intelligent and insightful questions, meant to make him really reflect and consider what he was feeling, and where the relationship was going. I was so proud of myself, I could do this – I could be his friend.

“Maybe she’s just not the girl for you,” I said after listening to him give me reason upon reason for why they just weren’t a good match.

“I knew it,” he said, sitting up and dropping his fork to his plate with a clatter, “you’re jealous.”

And just like that, it all went out the window.

“Jealous of what?” I asked, my face growing hot with embarrassment that I had let my guard down around him for one minute.

“Of my relationship with Emily.”

Oh boy.

“You know what Rob, you are the man who made a career in the military, while we were together you taught me how to string and shoot a long bow, your living room is decorated with medieval weapons, and you have an extensive collection of guns that you shoot, frequently. I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist to see that perhaps your interests don’t mesh well with a girl who has a minor meltdown every time she opens a can of biscuits. Pointing that out to you doesn’t make me jealous, it makes me a good friend.”

I rose to my feet ready to leave.

“I’m moving,” he called after me.

“When?” I asked turning back to look at him.

“In two weeks,” he said.

“Will you be back?” I asked, and the unspoken part of that question was – for the birth of our son.

“I’m not planning on it,” responded.

I nodded, in understanding and I looked at him. When I met Rob, I thought he looked like a superhero – tall, broad shouldered, and square jawed. I thought that he was fearless and that together we could take on anything. He radiated strength and fearlessness to me than and now he just seemed so full of fear.

“Thanks for dinner,” I said and I turned my back on him and I left.

I had wanted a picture of Rob and our son for his baby book, so that one day when I told our son his story that would be a part of it. That we loved him from the minute, we knew he was there. However, as I drove away from the barbecue place I realized that story I painted in my head was a lie – I loved my son from the moment I knew he was there; through the vomiting, the indecision, the worry, the doubts, the hard decisions, the dreams, the wishes – I loved him, Rob did not. To Rob, this wasn’t a baby or even a part of him, it was the last thread that bound us together, a thread that he was ready to have cut. It was a hard truth to swallow, but there it was.

I contacted Mary at the attorney’s office the next day to make sure that they knew Rob was leaving the state, and to make sure that he kept in touch with them, so they knew where to send his paperwork.

Our son wasn’t born yet, but the thread was severed – the chapter in my life about Rob was over and closed.

Rob and I don’t talk very often. I can honestly say that he does make an effort to call every ten to fourteen days to see how I am doing and once I say I’m fine, he gets off the phone as quickly as possible. Emily has come and gone, he was going to be moving, so he was staying busy. Frankly, I’ve been a little relieved because it’s hard to get on with your life and move forward when your past keeps popping up over and over again.

I mention this because Sunday while I was standing at a gas station, putting the gas cap back on my car but basking in the sunshine and thinking about how lucky I am to live in the South in the Spring, my phone rang and it was Rob. He was about a week early for his check in phone call but I still answered, I don’t know what I was expecting but I was unprepared for what I got.

After the expected pleasantries (you know “hey, how’s it going?” “good, you?” “good.”) were exchanged, Rob blurted out with “I just got off the phone with my parents and we’ve made some decisions about the adoption.”

I felt the world start spinning and I got in my car and pulled it away from the pump and out of the way.  I was confused for many reasons, the first being that we had agreed that he wasn’t going to tell his parents about this whole pregnancy situation. It was the last of three agreements that we made that had been unbroken. I could tell by the tone of his voice, that I was not going to like what was coming.

“What decisions have you made about my son?” I asked, with as much calm and quiet as I could muster.

“Well, my Dad doesn’t think that I should give the baby to strangers to raise, especially since my brother and his wife are currently going through the process to adopt a baby.”

“I see,” I said. Rob’s brother, John was the proverbial Black Sheep of the family he had an addiction problem, had stolen from his parents and been kicked out of the house, gone to jail, and Rob and his Father thought I was going to hand my son over to him to raise on the promise that he had turned his life around. The world around me was still spinning but everything was awash in shades of red.

“That way Elizabeth could get pictures and updates, and maybe my daughter could even be a part of the baby’s life.” He said.

“Excuse me?” I asked, breathing deeply and trying to focus and make my anger go away, trying not to lose my temper. Elizabeth was his ex-wife why was she going to need pictures and updates?

“Well when I told her about this whole adoption thing earlier this week she got upset that our daughter wouldn’t get to know her half-brother. She wants to know how and where the baby is, and how he’s doing.”

I have always known I have a rotten temper. I have always prided myself on the amount of self-control that I have that I don’t lose my temper more. However, the people closest to me know that when I am really angry and really calm – it’s probably best to head for the hills. On a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being minor annoyance and 10 being postal – I was about 15, nuclear and ready to explode.

“Rob, I can’t talk to you about this right now,” I said “obviously you’ve had time to prepare yourself for this conversation, I haven’t. I need some time to digest.”

“No Joy, we’re going to talk about his right now,” he said loudly.

“I assure you, we’re not. I’ll call you later.” I said and then I hung up the phone.

I don’t think I was ever as angry in my whole life, as I was right that minute. My hands were shaking and my son was shifting from one side of my swollen belly to the other, I suspect that he was getting a flood of emotions from me at that minute, and I was ashamed that none of them were very good. I hugged my belly and I thought of Beth and John, my son’s parents, because I really believed with my whole heart that they were meant to be my son’s parents, so what was I going to do about this? I certainly wasn’t going to let Rob’s Father control what I did with my baby.

I called Rob back a few hours later but only to tell him that I would call him tomorrow so we could discuss things. I simply told him I had a few things I needed to work out. In actuality I had a plan, and that was to offer him a counter proposal, one that would hit Rob where it hurt most.

When I arrived at work on Monday, I had two emails from Rob’s family. I had one from his Father telling me I was a slut and a whore and he was glad my plan to “trap his son” had blown up in my face and that he was going to make sure some good came out of my selfishness. (Quite honestly the email was much longer than that, but that was the gist of it. To this day it is still the cruelest email I have ever received.) The second email was from Rob’s sister, who I had met once – we stayed at her house for a weekend, telling me how hurt and disappointed she was my behavior. I did not respond to the sister from Rob’s sister but I did take the time to point out that I had moved out and come up with my adoption plan all without his son, I never, not once suggested we get back together let alone try to get married. I assured him I would pray for him, because with so much hatred in his heart clearly that’s what he needed – prayers. What the heck had Rob told these people?

I called Mary at the attorney’s office to let her know what was going on and to put my mind at ease that really the only people who could stop Beth and John from getting my son were Rob and myself. She assured me that was the case. I also told her that Rob’s ex-wife wanted “updates” and she said it was highly unlikely but really that was up to Beth and John. I told her that I would let Rob sort that out. (Frankly, I still thought that one was a little over the top.)

That evening, I got myself into the safest place I could think of and braced myself to do battle. In my heart I was fighting for my son’s future and for his happiness. I sat down on the floor with my back against the sofa, Ben snuggled next to me so I could pet his soft fur. (I found petting Ben to be very calming.) Then I called Rob.

“Hey,” I said brightly, “I’m ready to talk.”

“Okay,” he said and I could tell he was suspicious.

“I think you and your parents are right, I don’t think a stranger should raise my son, so I talked to Cathy today at work, and she said that at the end of the month I was going to be getting that raise she’s been talking about.”

“That’s great,” he said and I could tell suspicion was giving way to confusion.

“Well, with that raise and what you would be legally obligated to give me in support, I can keep the baby.” I finished.

Between you and me, I was bluffing. The raise was still a carrot dangling over my head, I was still not interested or equipped to raise my son by myself but I refused to be back into a corner by this man and his family.

There was silence.

“So you better tell your family to play nicely since I’m going to be around for a long time.” I added, in a voice that sounded so sweet and so bright my teeth ached. If he had seen the fury on my face, he would’ve known it was a bluff but since he had wanted to do this over the phone, it had helped me out tremendously.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Oh I got some emails from your Father and sister today, they seem unimpressed by my choices. You really should encourage them to be nice to the mother of your child since obviously I’m not going to let my son visit people that call me a whore or talk badly about me. We’re going to have to work together to parent him.”

If I hadn’t had him when I mentioned the money – I had him now. I could almost hear him blanch over the phone.

“Now Joy, wait, you don’t really want to keep the baby do you?” He said, I could practically hear the back-peddling.

“I have always loved my baby and wanted what’s best for him, you and your Father made me realize it might be me.” I said.

Rob spent the next half an hour “convincing me” that Beth and John were the right parents for our son. I pretended to put up and admirable fight because I didn’t want him to know that he had just played right into my hands, but by the end of the call we were back on track. He also agreed to talk to his family and get them to refrain from any future emails. I told him I would appreciate it greatly. I told him if he wanted updates for his ex-wife he was going to have to call the attorney and see if Beth and John would be interested in doing that. (He never did.)

If I had thought, for one minute that any Rob’s Family’s plans for the baby had anything to do with love for my child – I might have been more receptive but I suspected that really it was more of pride. My suspicions were confirmed and my doubts were put at ease the next morning when I got the last email I would ever receive from Rob’s Dad. It was sent before Rob and I had reached our agreement so I never bothered to tell him about it, but the highlight was -

“Just because you are pregnant with my son’s child doesn’t mean you are anything to this family. The only thing you will accomplish in this life is giving birth to a child from someone of my son’s caliber who you preyed upon when he was emotionally weak.”

Yes, my behavior was not entirely on the up and up, but when I looked at that email I knew that at least I was making decisions from a place of love. I don’t think Rob’s Father could say the same.

I’m afraid that this week, I got some news that has left me rather sad – Russ is leaving. He finished the first stage of his training and will be moving on to Kingsville, Texas for phase 2. I must admit that I took the news kind of hard. I’m not sure if it was the loss of a friend or if secretly, deep down, I was hoping to emerge from my adoption experience like a caterpillar emerges from his cocoon and Russ would want to sweep me up in his arms and we could rekindle some of the sparks I really felt on that first date. (Before finding out half of my town knew about my pregnancy, the vomiting, and Russ covered in ice cream thanks to a leaky drumstick.) As is the Navy way, he will be leaving in two weeks so Russ and I agreed to have dinner before he left town but I can’t help but find myself a little mopey that’s he’s going. My girlfriends sensing my blues swung into action and planned a girls’ night out!

I admit that this whole – “I broke up, moved out, and now I’m pregnant and placing the baby for adoption” has thrown my friends for a good loop. I get it, it’s an awkward situation. They aren’t sure how to be around me, and I keep trying to encourage them to just be themselves and ask questions if they have them, but honestly I don’t think they even know what to ask. I had one friend offer to throw me a shower, which was super sweet, but I assured her that I wasn’t really going to need anything from a baby shower. Another burst into tears about what a beautiful baby it was going to be and how sad that I would lose it. I think after my girlfriends helped me get settled in my new apartment after the break up, they kind of gave me some breathing room. They called to check on me but they didn’t hover, and sometimes that is the sign of the very best of friends.

My friends Jen and Shelly were at my house promptly at 5:30 so we could get ready to go out. The cooed over what a cute “bump” I had. (Which seemed very politically correct as I feel like I’m well past the “bump” stage and moving into the “big as a house” stage.) The baby is no longer really a kicker, but a mover and a shaker and they watched as the baby repositioned itself to get more comfortable when I sat down so Jen could work on my hair. (The baby moved right onto my bladder so they even got to experience that pregnant woman, “dear lord I hate to go to the bathroom NOW!” in action.) After an hour of giggling, fussing, gossiping, and of course – talking about boys, we were ready for dinner!

My friends had chosen this fabulous restaurant where we got a beautiful table right by the window and we got to watch the last shreds of day as they descended into night, and then see a few stars make their appearance. I love eating out with friends, and I was very happy to be in the middle of the happy chatter and even the occasional sloppy toast. I sat there smiling, soaking it all in. I ordered conservatively off the menu – staying away from anything acidic (even tomatoes) to reduce the chance of heartburn, but for me the night was less about the food and more about soaking in the company.

One thing I can say is that no matter how fabulous the restaurant getting a group of eight, let alone eight woman who are distracted merely by each others’ company) seated, ordered, and then getting food out to them is really a feat. The restaurant handled it gracefully but at 9:30 we were still sitting at the table, I was yawning and day dreaming about bed, when I realized that the night could be about to take a turn for the worse.

“So whose ready to go bar hopping?” my friend Kerri said from the head of the table.

Voices chorused out their eagerness to go and recommendations of where to get started, and I started to silently panic. I had ridden with Shelly and Jen, and there was no way I was ready for any bar hopping. Frankly, I was ready to curl up under the table and fall asleep!

“I’ll take Joy home and meet you guys out,” I heard Shelly say from across the table. I flashed her a grateful smile and immediately felt my momentary panic dissolve.

We parted ways a few moments later with hugs; they were swirl of excitement headed towards the bars and I was a big sigh of relief headed home to bed!

Shelly and I chatted in the car on the way home. Mostly we talked about superficial things, I griped that the curls she and Jen had carefully constructed were already falling down and she complained that her hair that she had so painstakingly straightened was starting to frizz. I asked if she had any prospective boys on the horizon, she said there were a few she might be interested in but no one she was too serious about. Pleasant conversation seemed to kind of dwindle, and soon we were riding in silence.

I sensed in the silence that something was on Shelly’s mind and I also sensed that it was something she needed to work her way to herself. I looked out the window at the familiar scenery.

“Joy,” she finally said “how did you decide to place your baby for adoption?”

I turned and studied her profile thoughtfully for a minute. I knew from several long years of friendship that Shelly had an unplanned pregnancy when we were in college. I also knew that she terminated the pregnancy, so I felt like I needed to proceed slowly and with caution as this might become one of those friendship altering moments.

“Well, I’ve always known that I was adopted so keeping that in mind I felt like adoption was the best choice for me right now. I don’t think my life has enough stability to give a baby the safety and structure that it will need growing up.”

“Did you think about not having the baby?” she asked.

“I considered it, but ultimately that wasn’t an option that worked for me.” I said but silently I prayed – please may I not be hurting my friend.

Silence settled again, and I had this feeling that I needed to say more, to give her the whole picture and so I did. I told her about selecting my Attorney about Mary and talking to Linda. I told her about Beth and John. I even discussed the uncomfortable money stuff about the assistance that I received from Beth and John through the Attorney’s office and how even though it is uncomfortable to admit that I was getting help how I felt like I had a safety net in case I was taken off work because of the pregnancy. (Gestational Diabetes or other pregnancy related things that caused the dreaded “bed rest.”)

We were parked now and it was quiet again. I went back over my words and my story, trying to see if I found anything that might have sounded like a pointed judgment against my friend, against the choice that she made and lived with because I wasn’t there to pass any judgment on her or her choices. I didn’t know about her pregnancy until she had terminated it, but I remember what a difficult time she had emotionally afterward.

“I think,” she said slowly and carefully, “that if I had know that I could’ve had that support available to me, I might have made a different choice.” There was a tear sliding down her face, and I hugged my friend and I cried with her.

After all the tears were shed, just before we said good night she had one more question for me.

“Do you think that you will miss the baby after it goes home with its parents?”

“Every day,” I said with a smile and she nodded. I suspect that of all my friends Shelly might have understood that better than anyone else.

It’s funny how quickly it happens but I seemed to have gone from the girl that no one could believe is pregnant to “dear lord, when are you due?!?!?” I’m not sure if it was really a change in my body as much it was a change in my wardrobe but as the weather warms up the maternity clothes have come out. I had another doctor’s appointment, listened to the heart beat, and Dr.A confirmed that my weight gain was right on track for a healthy baby.

Mary and I had been talking occasionally, usually she was just calling to touch base, make sure things were going okay, etc. but during her last call she had scheduled a counselor to come by my house. I was unclear whether this was a requirement of the State or of the attorney that I had to work with but it sounded like a good idea so this afternoon I found myself straightening my apartment as Ben and I prepared for Linda’s arrival.

Ben was a gracious host, he always stayed on his pillow, head held regally and eyes bright inviting people to come pet him. I was amused that he was not the kind of dog to bound over to strangers, he knew that they would come to him. I thought the way people reacted to my sweet, soft and still healing dog was very telling and Linda passed the test right away.

Linda had short dark curly hair and had a very Earthy quality to her, I’m not sure if it was something in the cut and style of her clothes or her jewelry but she just seemed like a very Earthy grounded person and as soon as she came into the apartment she asked who Ben was and she knelt down to introduce herself, scratching gently under his chin. I liked her right away, I wasn’t the only one as Susan seated herself on the sofa and Ben got up from his cushion to follow her. (Susan had a dachshund and I could tell by they way she talked about him that she loved her dog.)

I had been nervous about the counseling visit, I’m not really sure what I expected but I had never been to a counselor before. However, Linda took out a form and held it in her lap and then we talked, like she was a new friend who just wanted to get to know me better. She scratched Ben under his chin and behind his ears, while he looked up at her adoringly, and I told her about my family, about being adopted. Every now and then she wrote something down on her paper, but really it didn’t feel like anything too formal. I actually liked it!

The only area that I felt like I came up short was when she asked about Rob. I could talk about Rob in a detached sort of way but she asked questions about our relationship and what brought me here, living with Ben, instead of with the man I had once thought I would be spending the rest of my life with. I hated how angry I knew I sounded when I talked about how all our plans were washed away when he cheated and about the arguments that we were still having. (Rob had taken to calling more frequently at odd hours to see if I was dating, he woke me up from a dead sleep twice before deciding that he should at least place his calls before nine at night.)

“What is it about your situation with Rob that really makes you so uneasy?” She asked.

“One day, I hope to meet this child and I wonder what I will tell him or her,” I said, “I don’t want the baby to think it wasn’t always loved, because it was.”

As soon as I said it, I was struck by the truth of it. It was hard to focus on the fact that the baby was made in love when Rob and I were squabbling constantly, when there was no trust between us. Most days it hardly seemed like we were friends, how would that make the baby feel someday when I have to explain this part of his (or her) past?

“You’ll make peace with all of this, but it takes time and this is an emotional time for you. Try not to focus so much on the future, just focus on today.” Linda advised me.

It was good advice, advice I knew I should try to follow but I have to admit that some days it was easier than others.

I know that I’ve gone back and forth on this, but my situation with Russ is no longer just a hypothetical situation – he asked me out (for Valentine’s Day no less) and I said yes. It didn’t happen completely out of the blue, he called me a few times and we talked on the phone like high schoolers! We talked about everything, our families, our hopes and dreams for the future, everything but the one thing I’m wondering if I should’ve brought up – the baby. I love talking to him and the more I talk to him the more I like him.

I’ve been full of doubt and concerns about this situation. Sometimes it seems unfair that while I am pregnant and my life is all about the baby, Rob has moved on with his love life, shouldn’t I get the same opportunity? Should the baby really keep me from going out on a date with this man that is funny, kind and caring – he’s educated, gainfully employed, and seems to have so many of the traits that I’m looking for in a life partner.

Ever my own worst enemy, I can’t help but look down the road and play “what if” which makes everything seem to take on new importance. What if we really hit it off, when do I tell him about the baby? What if we fall in love and he wants to keep BOTH of us, would I let that affect my adoption plan? What if I tell him about the baby and he runs screaming in the other direction – am I really ready to deal with that? I keep telling myself that all of this playing “what if” is really borrowing trouble from tomorrow, especially since those were all things that might never come to pass, but then in the back of my mind “what if” would whisper again. I know I’m being silly, I know that a new and handsome man is not really going to change anything in my life, let alone my adoption plan, but still my brain shifts through all the options. It’s my greatest strength and weakness all at the same time.

Beth and John have purchased plane tickets to come visit in a month! Her email bringing this news to me also brought about a minor panic attack on my part, what if they reject me? What if they meet me (and presumably Rob) and decide that they wouldn’t want any child that came from the two of us. My panic attack lead me to sit down and with tear filled eyes write a big email to Beth laying out any and all potential problems that this baby could’ve inherited from Rob and me. I started with the normal things like our cat allergies, but I delved into the more serious problems. My struggles with school which lead to being diagnosed with Dyslexia and Rob “allegedly” having ADD, the alcoholism that Rob’s family brings to the table. I shook every genetic skeleton I could think of out of the closet and laid them out on the table for Beth’s inspection.

The email I got back brought even more tears. Beth treated each of my confessions seriously, she did not just send me back a dismissive letter assuring me that they just wanted a baby and would love it. She told me that John doesn’t drink because alcoholism is prominent in his family and that they would make sure that the baby grew up as John did, knowing the dangers of alcohol. She treated each concern seriously and laid out a plan of attack for how she thought she would handle that situation if it happened, and after each fear had been addressed then she assured me that they already loved the baby and that nothing so trite as dyslexia or ADD would make them not love the baby.

Her email brought tears to my eyes but it also brought me peace of mind. My fears had been addressed and assuaged. Beth and John would love the baby, if it wasn’t pink and perfect forever – it was theirs and for them, that was more than enough.