I have never had a fondness for children. They’re loud, expensive, and somehow always sticky. I never wanted to have any of my own. My sister is more of the family type, and I always pictured myself as the cool aunt who plays with her nieces and nephews, buys those neat presents at Christmas time, and then packs them up and sends them home.
Despite my feelings on child rearing, and despite using birth control, I discovered in late February that I was pregnant, 33 weeks actually. I was terrified and confused. I hadn’t really gained weight at all. I had put on maybe 5 pounds, but I had written it off as too much food and not enough exercise over the holidays. I hadn’t been sick. I wasn’t any more tired than usual. I didn’t want to believe it.
That disbelief led to fear. Fears at first of what my choices were. It was way too late for an abortion, and there was no way I wanted to raise a child. I couldn’t afford a baby even if I liked kids. Then, there came the fear that something would be wrong. I hadn’t known that I was pregnant, so I kept on doing what I always did – drinking with my friends on weekends, eating junk food and taking my ADHD meds. I didn’t want a child, but I sure didn’t want to hurt one! To place my baby up for adoption seemed like a good choice, but I wasn’t sure where to begin.
I went for an ultrasound to make sure everything was ok. It was surreal, going from thinking I was on birth control preventing a pregnancy to having the tech point out feet and hands. Thankfully, everything looked fine. It was a boy. The tech was super nice and gave me more pictures than she was supposed to of my son. I found a fantastic OB recommended by my college health center, though I still felt awkward in that waiting room surrounded by happy couples. I was alone. I look much younger than I am. I felt like “that girl” who got pregnant too young and was ruining her life. Medically, everything was looking positive, so at least I had that going for me.
I confided in my best friend first, then my boyfriend (though it wasn’t his), and then my mother. The hardest person to tell was my ex, the father. Thankfully, everyone was great and helped me through the moments of depression and fear. It seemed like once I was aware of the pregnancy, my body began to respond to it. I gained weight and felt kicks, which I previously thought were digestive problems. I was anemic; I had pains that wouldn’t go away, I felt sick at the thought of food, and I constantly wanted mint ice cream. It was difficult. I just kept feeling worse about my situation and myself.
I knew giving my baby up for adoption was my best choice, and I looked at a bunch of adoption agencies, some local and some national, and ultimately, I chose A Baby Step Adoption, near me in Reading, PA. I’m not sure exactly what led me there, but since they were local and smaller than some of the larger national agencies, they seemed less intimidating. Their website had information in a nice, easy to digest format. So I filled out the little box that asked for my contact info and sent it off. I had officially signed up for the adoption of my baby.
Within a few days, I heard back from someone there. I was working that day, so I missed the call, but Sabrina, the caseworker, sounded pretty friendly on my voicemail. I worked up some courage, and we met at a diner for brunch. We talked about random things at first – my classes, my family, things I liked to do. I was asked some simple questions about what I was looking for while finding an adoptive family – things like religious preferences and family lifestyle. Along the way, I had to fill out lots of paperwork, but Sabrina helped me whenever I had a question. I never felt rushed or pressured, so I was able to take the time to absorb the information.
Finding an adoptive family wasn’t too complicated either. I was given a bunch of books, kind of like scrapbooks, about the families that Sabrina and the others thought might be a good fit. Some of the families had even written letters to me personally. I pulled out a few that seemed like good choices, and then I got to talk to them on the phone. Sabrina set it up and was there for the call, so it didn’t feel too awkward.
Much like the agency itself, I’m not sure exactly why I chose the adoptive family I did. I guess it just felt right. They made me feel like giving my baby up for adoption was not giving up at all. I met them in person the first time when they came to one of my final ultrasounds. It was kind of neat that they were able to see him there with me. The mother had a biological son as well, and was sympathetic to my struggles with the pregnancy.
Amazingly, after I decided to place my baby for adoption and started the process, I felt less alone. A weight was lifted from my shoulders, and I felt a huge sense of relief. I had a plan for my future, and I made it through one day at a time with a predictable schedule. Work, class, doctor, more work, meet with Sabrina, repeat. The agency helped me along. If I needed anything, they’d help me get it. I’m pretty sure that if I had decided that it was essential to my well being to go to Australia and pet a koala they would have made it happen.
I was overdue, so I was finally induced at 42 weeks. The agency helped me write down what I wanted my adoption plan to be at the hospital and after the baby was born. To me, the baby was never mine. His parents were the wonderful people that the agency helped me find. They were there that day, along with my boyfriend. I was still terrified, because I hate hospitals, but it was better having people around me.
He was born early in the morning, around 4 am. They named him Grey. They were the first to hold him and feed him. He was healthy, and I was okay. They moved us to a postpartum area. I was in a room right next door to the parents, and the hospital respected my choice to let them have Grey in their room. I held him once the entire time I was there. My reaction was, “Yep, that sure is a baby!” As I said, I never really felt any emotional connection to him. He was always their son as far as I was concerned, and it was clear how much they loved him already. Sabrina visited me in the hospital, as did my mom. She held Grey, too. I think in a way she wanted a grandbaby, but she was happy with my choice of parents.
I went home a few days later and went back to my normal life. I watched bad kung fu movies and The Maury Show with my roommates. I worked on my homework. I fixed computers at work. I slowly healed and started to feel more like me again, both physically and emotionally. It was hard at first. I didn’t know what to expect. I got a little depressed for a week or two, but fought my way through it with my friends, boyfriend, the agency, and everyone else helping me. I knew in my heart placing my baby for adoption was the right decision.
Days slipped by quickly, turning into weeks. I graduated college. I found a job. I’m moving into an apartment with my boyfriend next month near our workplace. I still think of Grey every now and again. I have the hospital bracelet that matched his, a card with his tiny footprints, the ultrasound pictures and the book about his parents tucked away in a small wooden box with his name on it that my dad made me. The lily Sabrina gave me grows in my windowsill. The coffee mug Grey’s parents gave me is full of candies on my desk. But these things don’t make me sad. They remind me of the joy Grey gives his new parents. Finding an adoptive family that truly wanted Grey more than anything in the world helped me get through the tough times. He’s just about two months old now. I know he’s somewhere great, with people who love him and take amazing care of him. We opted for a semi open adoption, so they will send me pictures to an email account I set up for the purpose. That way I can look if I want to, on my terms. I haven’t yet. I don’t know when or if I will, but knowing the option is there is nice.
Ultimately, I think I made the best of what I considered an unfortunate situation. I still hate kids. I still wish I hadn’t gotten pregnant. I’m talking with my OB/GYN about getting my tubes tied because I never want to go through it again, but I also don’t think giving my baby up for adoption was entirely a bad experience. I learned how strong I really am. I love that I could make a family so happy. I’m also glad I went with A Baby Step Adoption. They treated me kindly, and helped me through the adoption process at my own pace. The feeling of calm I have now about the decision to place my baby for adoption is fantastic. I don’t worry I made the wrong decision at all. I can move on with my life knowing that Grey is safe and happy. To me, that’s what I got out of all of this. Peace after the storm.