Archive for the ‘Professionals’ Category

The day before my doctor’s appointment, I was scheduled to have dinner with my Mom and Mary and I was so nervous. I met my Mom at the restaurant a little early, and with tears in my eyes I told her about what had happened with Cathy. My Mom frowned as she listened, and then she reached across the table and placed her hand over mine.

“Joy, you are going to have people give you their opinions and advice, whether you ask for it or not, you’re going to have to learn how to let those things go,” she said.

“I know,” I said because I’ve never been one to care too much what other people thought or said about me, “but Cathy was my mentor, for her to say that really hurt.” My eyes welled with tears again, but I blinked them away as best I could while my Mom continued to pat my hand.

After I felt like I was back in control of my feelings, I told my Mom that I had made my doctor’s appointment. I also told her that I had experienced my first craving, crab rangoon, I could eat it almost every day and it never made me sick. Someone told me that cravings stem from things that your body knows that it needs, I couldn’t imagine what the baby needed with cream cheese and imitation crab, but I was glad for a reprieve from being sick. We were laughing about my craving when Mary was shown to our table.

In the laughter I had forgotten more than my hurt feelings, I had forgotten my nervousness and perhaps that is why Mary almost immediately seemed like a long lost friend. Mary’s hair and eyes were darker than my Mom’s but there was something about them that was so similar, perhaps it was an aura of warmth and compassion.

I immediately felt at ease around Mary, but my Mom was in Mother Bear mode, trying to protect her cub! For the first fifteen to twenty minutes, she went about the business of the adoption, asking questions about the process, about what assistance was available to me, what paperwork had to be signed, what my responsibilities were, etc. etc. For my part, I told Mary I had a doctor’s appointment the very next day, and she gave me her card to give to them, along with the name of her administrative assistance in the event that she was out of the office. Her office would ensure that my medical expenses were all taken care of since I didn’t have any health insurance, but I was ineligible for any state programs. (The bills would ultimately be paid by the adoptive parents.) I also provided my list of living expenses, things like rent, phone, an estimate of my grocery, and other miscellaneous expenses.  My Mom wanted to know how those things would be handled if something happened and I was put on bedrest and unable to work and Mary went over the things on my list that the birthparents would pay for and what they would not. (Most of the expenses were covered, though things like cable were not – of course, this varies depending on the state and the laws in that state.)

Finally we got to the heart of the matter, I gave Mary back the profiles of the parents that I had not selected and showed her Beth and John’s profile and explained how I picked them. I still felt a little bit like I had to defend my decision, like there had to be more than gut instinct involved.  My heart still ached for the parents that I couldn’t pick, Mary sensed my heavy heart and assured me that in time they would find children for all of the parents whose stories I had gotten to know in my own adoption journey. I asked Mary NOT to call Beth and John until after my doctor’s appointment, just to make sure that I don’t get their hopes up if something is amiss.

With all of the business of the dinner out of the way, the most remarkable thing happened – Mary shared her own personal adoption experience with us, she was the adopted mother of a beautiful little girl. Her daughter’s birthmother had been a woman who already had a house full of children and she didn’t think that she could take care of another one, so she placed her baby girl for adoption. Apparently she didn’t have an adoption plan, she came to the decision at the hospital, signed papers and left. Mary said that she often wished she could forward pictures of her daughter to the birthmother, just so she would be able to see how beautiful and loved the little girl was. My mom and I both had tears in our eyes when she finished her story, but then my Mom shared her adoption experience with us.

My Mom and I often talked about adoption, but some of this was new and different. I knew that some of my story was similar to Mary’s story – my birthmother came to the hospital to deliver me and the adoption plans were made after that. However, my Mom admitted that even years after my adoption, when there were cases about birthparent rights, she sometimes worried that my birthmother would show up and try to take me back. I was shocked to hear that, I never knew that my Mom had ever been worried that someone would try to take me away from her.  I understood a little better her concern that I not contact adopted parents until I was sure that was the course of action I was going to take; apparently she had often considered what it would be like to lose her daughter, even after I was legally and undoubtedly hers.

As the two women shared their experiences and I saw the tentative roots of friendship taking place, I was struck by the irony that both of them were so obviously Mothers. Everything about them seem warm, comforting, compassi0nate – they were made to be mothers, and yet neither of them was able to have a baby and here I was…not even remotely ready to be a mother, but the baby growing inside me, made me one whether I was ready to be one or not!

I am pregnant. I keep saying it to myself trying to get used to the thought because really there are long stretches where I seem to forget! There’s plenty of things going on to distract me – work, dinner with friends, the impending holidays with my family. I go through all of it and pregnancy seems far away, but then a wave of nausea crashes down on me and reminds me, I am pregnant.

The day after my day of reflection, I went about the business of trying to determine how one places a child for adoption. I was not going to call any number on a bulletin board that said something like “Pregnant? Scared? Alone? call 800….” – I was never very clear what organization would be waiting for me on the other end of that line and I didn’t want to risk encountering anyone with negative opinions on how I got in my “delicate state.” (Okay, I’ll just say it – I didn’t want to be judged too harshly for getting pregnant, I know there are people who feel strongly about premarital sex and I wasn’t interested in revisiting the past – I was planning for my baby’s future.) I did the only other thing I could think of – I Googled “Adoption Attorney.”

Just as I had preconceived notions about the 800 numbers on the billboards, I had decided that I didn’t know if there was a Catholic Charities but it seemed like I had read negative things about them in the press, so I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to call any of the numbers on the ads in any magazines either. I wanted to talk to someone who was in the adoption business, someone who knew all the ins and outs so that’s why I decided to try to find an Adoption Attorney.

There wasn’t an Adoption Attorney in my small town, the closest one was three hours away, the next closest was almost six hours away, but I called and left messages with both offices.

The first office to call back was actually the office that was furthest away! The Social Worker asked questions, questions that got more and more intrusive. The questions started with things I expected like – “how far along was I” and they ventured into questions I didn’t expect, questions about my race and the race of the father and how certain I was who the father was. I started to feel a little defensive. When the social worker realized that Rob and I were both Caucasian, college educated – she seemed excited. She wanted to make an appointment to come meet with me in person as soon as possible. I made the appointment for next week, but I felt uneasy.

A little while later, the Social Worker from the second office called me. She asked some of the same questions, but there was something in her mannerism that made me feel more at ease. She did ask questions about my race (and Rob’s) but she didn’t drill me about being sure who the father was. There was something in her gentle probing questions that made me feel like she wanted not just what was best for the baby, but what was best for me too. I liked this woman, I felt like we clicked.

I talked to Mary, the social worker from the second office, for almost half an hour and she answered some of the questions that I had. I found out that I was going to have to tell Rob about the pregnancy, he had to sign papers too* or else he could later come and take the baby away from the adoptive parents claiming some sort of parental rights. (That certainly wasn’t what I wanted.) She explained that I would be provided with a counselor that I would meet with a few times over the course of my pregnancy. She was also very clear that while her office worked for the adoptive parents, they would make sure that I could have my own legal representation if I wanted it or felt uncomfortable with any of the arrangements being made.

Mary and I also talked about what the adoptive parents could help me with. I didn’t have health insurance so they would cover my medical expenses. However, there was also living expenses that could be covered depending on my need. Mary advised that I make a list of my monthly expenses that we would go over later.

We decided that she would send over some adoptive parent profiles for me to review and perhaps select parents for my child from. (Though she was very reassuring that there were more she could send if I didn’t feel like my adoptive parents were in there.) However, she was going to call and check in with me next week and give me some time to talk to Rob.

I called the first office and canceled my appointment next week, stating that I had decided to work with someone closer, in case I needed support. I never told them that they had left me with a slimy “selling my baby to the highest bidder” feeling, maybe I should have.

Then I called and left a message a for Rob and told him that we needed to talk and to please call me back.

*laws about the birthfathers vary from state to state, but I know that in my home state these laws have already changed.