Archive for the ‘Professionals’ Category

As I enter the home stretch of my pregnancy, I get to go see Dr.A every week. Every week I go in, with very little to report and I always seem to be right on track for where I need to be. Dr.A has taken to teasing me that if he had more patients like me, he would be out of business, everything has been by the book. Well everything until this week. The scale has never been my friend, but even more so now that I’m pregnant. I tend to pretty much ignore that part of my visit all together, so when Dr.A walked in reviewing my chart with his eyebrows knitted together, I felt butterflies start fluttering in my stomach.

“Joy, have you had any problems this week? Felt differently? Feeling emotionally stressed perhaps?” He asked me.

“Not that I can think of,” I said. My hands were feeling a little sweaty, as he studied my face.

“Well, I can’t help but notice that you gained three pounds this week,” he said looking down at the chart, “which is more than you’ve been putting on. Did you have more sweets or eat anything unusual?”

This was just embarrassing! I thought as I scrambled through all of my meals looking for something out of the ordinary, at no point had I bought a cake and eaten it by myself.

“Nothing, well except for watermelon.” I said.

Truth be told, as it got hotter outside, I had become a little watermelon obsessed. Ever since I found out I could get a big bowl of precut watermelon at the grocery store.

“How much watermelon?” he asked, and his eyes were twinkling with laughter.

“Umm, you know those big bowls they sell at Albertson’s?” I said, he nodded “I think I’ve had three in the last week.”

“That would do it,” he said chuckling.

“I thought fruit was healthy?”

“Well some fruit is more healthy than the others.”

I couldn’t decide if I wanted to laugh or cry. I had been trying so hard to make sure I had a healthy pregnancy and now I had poisoned myself with watermelon. Really, I was so proud that I had resisted the urge to buy ice cream or popsicles. It was really bothering me.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Janet, Dr.A’s nurse said as she squeezed my hand reassuringly before I got off the table, “it will be just fine, your son is fine.”

“I just feel so stupid,” I said sheepishly. Again she smiled at me and patted my hand.

I guess in pregnancy, you don’t really cross the finish line until the baby is born and in your arms. Something I just sort of take for granted since everything has been going so smoothly. I contemplated that, the whole car ride to the office. The health of my baby was really important to me, I had been trying to make sure that while I was carrying him I was giving him everything he needed to be healthy and strong and here I was drowning the poor kid in watermelon! When I got to my office, I had resolved that I wouldn’t buy anymore of the big watermelon bowls until after my son was born.

Imagine my surprise when Ken walked into my office a few minutes after I got there with a big smile on his face and a parfait sized cup of watermelon!

“We noticed that you seemed to be craving watermelon, so when Josh went out to grab some breakfast, he picked this up for you.”

I thanked Ken but I couldn’t help but laugh as he handed me the cup. I guess my steely resolve on watermelon would have to wait until tomorrow.

“Dr.A, when do I get to have an ultrasound?” I asked at the end of my visit. He had just told me that things were good as we were entering the home stretch.

“You mean you haven’t had one yet?” he asked, as he began flipping through my chart. I shook my head in response. I could tell by his flustered reaction that some oversight had happened.  However, it was quickly resolved and as I checked out – I had two appointment cards in hand, one for my next appointment and one for my ultrasound.

I was so excited that I called Rob, thinking surely he would share my excitement and be ready to at least see if the baby was a boy or a girl. I am too happy and excited long to dwell on the details of that phone conversation, but I will say that Rob did not share my excitement and in fact said that he would come with me “if his work schedule allowed” but he wasn’t going to ask for time off or anything like that. Of course, we quarreled over this but in the end he was not off work and I was probably better off without him. (Towards the end of this journey I’ve tried to make this my mantra, I am better off without him.)

I got to the doctor’s office twenty minutes early on the day of the ultrasound, and I could already see a difference in the waiting room. Normally the OB GYN office is mostly just women. (Frankly since Dr.A has his pregnancy check in’s scheduled in clusters normally it’s just pregnant women.) However on ultrasound day – there were couples. I had a book open, one of the Harry Potter books, but I was peeking over the top at the couples.

More than once I had to blink tears away,  when a man touched a pregnant belly or a couple had their heads close together whispering excitedly. The snatches of conversation I was able to catch seemed to indicate that names were being debated, playful arguments about “I know it’s a boy” or “I know it’s a girl” and never in my whole pregnancy did I feel more alone than I did at that moment, but I also promised myself that one day I would be back here, with someone to share my excitement.

My name was called and as I followed the nurse, she looked at the Harry Potter book in my hands and smiled, “you’re going to be a great mother,” she said.

“I will,” I said but I silently added “someday.”

With eyes intent on the screen while the ultrasound tech moved the instrument over my belly, I couldn’t tell what anything was at first. There was white objects that seemed to emerge out of the darkness but they were all completely unidentifiable. However, then as clear as day I saw an arm and at the end of that arm I saw a little fist with his thumb sticking up. Like the baby was giving me a “thumbs up” sign. The ultrasound technician laughed, as she explained what I was looking at (even though I could tell) she printed out the picture.

She moved the instrument around some more, and showed me a profile picture, took some measurements, and made comments about how good the spine look, how the measurements are right on track. Then she asked the million dollar question – “do you want to know the sex?”

“Yes,” I said smiling a bright excited smile. (Beth and John did not want to know but I was dying to know.)

“It’s a boy,” she said and she pointed out his “boy parts.”

A boy! Finally no longer just “a baby” – I was having a boy and I couldn’t wait to hold him in my arms and meet him.

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.

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.