9 years and 360 days ago I was pregnant, very pregnant with a child I had grown to love with every inch of my being. I already had a bouncing, beautiful 1.5 year old girl that was my entire world. I had been preparing for the last 8 months of this 9 month pregnancy for decisions I had made and would now have to face and be strong enough to do what was right. Finding out I was pregnant was a shock as the situation I was in was less than ideal. My husband and I at the time were not in a good place towards each other as the very small package I was carrying wasn’t his. I had decided after finding out I was pregnant to explore options, beginning with abortion. I went to a clinic, for several visits, weighing my options, getting information and finally making THE appointment. I was told what it would be like, physically, afterwards and was trying to mentally prepare myself. There was no way I could keep this baby. Then I called it that, a baby. I realized emotionally I could never live with myself, wondering every time I saw a kids about the same age it would have been, what could have been. I canceled the appointment 12 hours before I would have changed several lives.
I then decided to pursue the choice of adoption instead. I didn’t realize at the time, early into the pregnancy that no agency will talk to you until you are well into gestation for fear of you changing your mind and breaking the hearts of some expectant couple. So I picked an agency after some research that believed in open adoption, also a concept I would soon become very, very familiar with. Then I began to pester the crap out of them until they agreed to set an appointment with me. At three months pregnant, and barely even showing, I convinced the representative(I hate the word “case worker”) I was really, really sure about this and wanted to begin the process before I began to get too attached to my baby.
I was given 10 profiles of expectant families and parents. I went through each one, carefully, reading the touching letters to birth moms, the desperation hidden in them for a baby of their own brought me to tears. None of them were just right. I tried to picture all of them with my baby inserted in the pictures of family splattered across the page. I called the representative to let her know and she brought me another set, again… nothing. By the fourth set I began to doubt my choice for this baby, began to doubt the agency and began to doubt everything in general. I was lost, 5 months pregnant and trying to mend a broken marriage while taking care of a increasingly demanding 15 month old. The rep brought me the final set of 5 families, each with a portfolio outlining their needs, desires, foundations and intimate details about their current family makeup. Second to last, bawling my hormonal eyes out, I came across a picture of the “daddy” with two members of the Blue Man Group, the look on his face made me smile. This family had already adopted a little girl 2 years ago and wanted to add one more child to their family. There letters touched me in a way the others didn’t, they just felt.. right. I called the rep immediately and they set up a meeting. When I went to lunch that day and met a very nervous, eager couple, I knew that the baby, though growing inside me, was meant for them.
We hit it off immediately. I was attracted to their stability as a couple, their desire to add to their already adorable family, their philosophies for raising children and the instant connection we had. I could feel the love they had for their baby, yet unknown. I knew soon I’d be feeling this little human kick and move and I needed to focus my attachment from the baby to their family. I knew it was going to be hard enough giving the baby away and I needed to feel completely comfortable about it. They also believed in open adoption and were amazing enough to give me the option of how open I wanted it to be. At that time I wasn’t sure, but did know I couldn’t go through this child’s life wondering how they were every day. They began to go to the monthly doctor appointments, crying at the sound of the heartbeat when I cried, jumping at the chance to feel it kick with looks of wonder matching mine, and beginning to let themselves get excited. We grew close, fast. Before I knew it I was really pregnant and more than ready to not be anymore.
I was at my husband’s work downtown on 02-06-01 timing contractions on a bar napkin. When they reached about 6 minutes apart I called the parents to let them know it was time. The hospital was about 20 minutes away, and we didn’t own a car at that point, so I was told to sit tight and they would come get me. I remember all the mixed feelings flooding my mind. I was about to have a baby, that I’d grown very attached to and give her to a family I’d also grown very attached to. On the way to the hospital I focused on calming them down and tried to keep the negative, fear filled, thoughts away. My husband and I at the time, were still on the rocks. He was sceptical and slightly irritated that I had invited these people to take part in such an intimate experience, though in my mind, there was no other option. If this was their baby, they needed to be there the entire time not only to create that bond you can’t replace at the start of a life, but to also make sure I stayed on track and remembered what this was all about. Bigger than me, bigger than us.
We got to the hospital and settled in. Meaning I got checked, admitted, and drugged, in that order. It was late on the 6th and I tried to sleep, caught up in the moment not really able to fully understand or think over what was about to happen. Early in the morning on the 7th, I heard what I’d been waiting to hear for hours and it was time to have this baby. Hitting automatic pilot, I had the baby, more focused on their faces then what was going on at the other end of the table. The next few moments went by in a blur. I heard the tiniest cry and looked up at the new parents faces, glowing with wonder, tears free flowing down every one’s cheeks. I had been struggling for the last few weeks, not knowing what to do. Some of the stuff I read said it was a good idea to hold the baby, to have the chance to say goodbye and let go, other stuff said it was easier to not see it at all so there was less of an attachment. As soon as I heard “it’s a girl!” and looked at their faces, I couldn’t bring myself to look where they were and tearfully told them to go see their daughter, who was now on the warming table being wiped down, much to her distaste. I focused on a small broken hanging tile on the ceiling directly above where I was laying on my back, crying partially from the giant hormone flux, and partially because I knew my job was finished.
They took her out, with parents in tow and I was left alone for awhile. I slept, exhausted. When I woke up it was midday on the 7th and I was alone, totally completely alone and empty. I had never felt anything like it before. I knew in my heart I made the best decision for that little girl, but it didn’t make me feel any less alone. My body hurt and was tired and my brain was on overload. It took several long hours of contemplation but I finally called the nurse to bring her in. I would never have forgiven myself had I let the first day of her life pass and not told her how much I loved her.
I was still alone in the room and they wheeled in the tiniest little thing in a plastic bassinet, wrapped in a traditional baby hospital blanket with a little beanie on that had to be folded over several times to get close to fitting. The nurse knew our situation and asked me again if I was sure I wanted to do this. Tears streaming and voice cracking I answered yes, because if I didn’t I knew I would regret it. She handed me one of the most beautiful, tiny babies I had ever seen. I placed her facing me against my bent legs so I could look at her straight on. She had the deepest, darkest blue eyes, every feature was perfect. I unwrapped her, counting her fingers and toes. She opened her eyes and looked at me and I lost it. I knew in my heart this child was meant for her parents, but my heart was tearing and ripping in ways I didn’t know it could. Through sobs I apologized for being unable to care for her the way she deserved, asking for her forgiveness one day. I told her how much of a part of me she was and will always be. I told her how I picked her family for her, and they picked me and her. I told her how much I loved her and promised there wouldn’t be a day that went by that she wasn’t going to be in my thoughts. We sat and stared at each other for hours.
The next day we were released to go home. I was given some time in the morning alone with her to say goodbye, but nothing prepared me for getting on the elevator without her. I went home, empty and alone. I cried myself to sleep for several days after that, calling to check on her every once in awhile. I was trying to leave her family alone to adjust. The questions from people that knew I was pregnant, but didn’t know the situation were the hardest. I didn’t want to tell anyone that she was dead, but wasn’t sure how to tell people why I made the choice I did. Those that weren’t really close I got accustomed to telling them that she was with her dad. I do not regret my decision.
The pain has faded over the years. Not a day goes by that I don’t think or dream about her. She has a relationship with not only me, but also her 4 other half-siblings. We have stayed in close contact and I know I made the right decision for her. I wonder sometimes how things are going to be in the future, and if she’ll hate me. In 5 days, she’ll be 10. I know our relationship will continue to grow and get stronger. So, D.R., I love you, more today then yesterday, not as much as I will tomorrow, and there is not a moment that goes by that I don’t think about you. Happy Birthday my baby.