The beginning...
So, I met this boy during my summer job for the County. He was completely different than the boys I knew at my high school. He went to a public school and he wasn't Catholic (honestly, I'm not even sure of this fact) I mention these two things because life was different back in the 80s - before electronics. Kids didn't really know too many other kids from other schools unless you were neighbors or knew them through your parents or little league or something. Well, here I was working with this boy that was a complete opposite of everything I knew and it was exciting. I grew up reading these teenage romance-type books (they weren't super racy and I'd say they would be rated PG) and the theme was always that the girl falls for the boy she never thought of and they survive against all odds. I'm not saying that I sought out this kind of a relationship but a lightbulb went off in my head when I noticed all of our differences. Perhaps, he's the boy I overlooked? I know now that this was that whole need to be loved thing. That it wasn't some romantic plot that I was living out but that I finally met someone that was pursuing me and it felt good.
Steve drove a huge truck - you know the kind with the lift and the huge tires. It was exciting when he would come and pick me up and I'd show off my long, athletic muscles and hop up in the truck all by myself. I even sat in the middle - right next to him (back in the day, no seat belt laws) We would spend our evenings out in the country, hanging out with his friends. Very rarely did we spend time with my friends as they were so different and I felt uncomfortable trying to blend my two groups. Our evenings quickly escalated to us becoming more and more intimate. I knew the dangers of having sex outside of marriage but I just didn't really know how to say no once I said yes that first time. Was that a thing? Was I a jerk if I suddenly rejected his advances or asked him to stop? It never occurred to me that maybe he could accept my answer and love me anyway. I really only saw the world in terms of what I could do for everyone else and not in some altruistic, saintly way but because I did not feel as though my voice mattered so I didn't want to rock the boat.
About 6 months after we started dating, I was a freshman at college. I took a long bus ride with 4 of my friends to a health clinic to take a pregnancy test. This was after the 92 home tests I took!! Lo and behold, the test came back positive. I can remember feeling like all of the air escaped from my chest but, oddly, I also felt relieved. I'd finally have everything I thought would point to the fact that I was lovable! I knew it was going to be a ridiculously hard conversation with my parents as they weren't exactly keen on the relationship (rightly so!) and that it also meant that I would confirm my status as the "bad twin" but I just wanted to plow forward. My friend called my boyfriend and told him to get his butt down to school and comfort me. He reluctantly did so and I was excited to see his face and to see his reaction to the news. Huh...it did not go exactly as I had hoped. I believe the third or fourth thing he mentioned was abortion. A friend of a friend of a friend had one and it made things much better according to his friend. If I wasn't already deprived of oxygen at finding out I was pregnant I found it extremely difficult to find any way to catch my breath.
Thankfully, my parents brought us up being 100% pro-life. We prayed to end abortion, my parents volunteered at a crisis pregnancy center, we donated and marched. This also presented a unique set of problems in that how do I tell my parents that I had gotten pregnant despite knowing all of the physical and moral ramifications in doing so. I came home on a weekend and sat in our living room with Steve and said the words. It was brutal and quick. In the raw emotion of my youth I remember my mom kind of laughing out loud and I filled in the blanks (in my head) with things like "Of course you did" or "I knew you'd disappoint us" In actuality, I understand her response to be of overwhelming emotion. Perhaps becoming a parent myself has softened my memory of the event. I know my parents had to have been swirling with so many thoughts and me, at the ripe old age of 19, sat there daring them to say the wrong thing. Not to mention Steve just sat there and said nothing and in the few moments it might have been nice to feel like I had some help, he still said nothing. To my parents' credit, they didn't kill him nor did they make him feel like he was completely to blame. As a matter of fact, my dad insured he would be employed and my mom quietly tried to pull him in to the conversation. Again, nothing.
The sheer desperation I felt in trying to get Steve to jump in and love me is still an emotion I can feel. I just wanted to legitimize my situation. I didn't want to be the loser pregnant girl who was forcing her boyfriend to stay with her. I grew up with a best friend whose sister got pregnant in high school and she's still with the father of the baby - he stepped up even though they placed that baby for adoption. I continually tried to make my pregnancy bring us together so that I could just stop being the screw up that I thought I was. I was met with distance and lies throughout my pregnancy. Constant arguing which usually resulted in him leaving me crying in my driveway as he went on "guys weekends" or claims of working late.
I had decided that the only real option was for me to place for adoption. I began talking to counselors about where to go and who to contact to make these plans a reality. My mom was such a huge help by making the phone calls and supporting me through prayers and companionship. She went to all of my OBGYN appointments, almost all of my counseling appointments, and included me whenever she went to lunch with her friends. I'm not sure I adequately thanked her for her support for me at that time. It was such a tough time - my friends were coming home from college after a year away, including my twin. I was on the outside to pretty much everything that summer. My twin and her boyfriend were very good to me and made sure that I was invited to everything that they were but I spent many days on my own. I understood but really was only able to count on my family and one super friend in particular.
Steve wasn't too involved in very much of anything with me during this emotional summer. I was able to pin him down on our infrequent "date" nights to fill out medical forms and to discuss what he would like in an adoption plan. I knew it was only a matter of time that we broke up but I knew that it was going to happen sooner rather than later when he expressed no desire for further contact from the baby after the adoption. That, to me, was him saying he'd rather all of this - including me - go away. I weep for the girl that I was as I just wanted him to love me. And, believe me, I loved him through much of his crap. He had a terrible relationship with both of his parents and I encouraged and facilitated conversations with both of them. He also had a daughter already with a previous girlfriend and when I found that out (well before I got pregnant) I was all about encouraging him to be a part of his daughter's life. To then get pregnant and experience this crisis where his response throughout was pretty much "MEH", was baffling. I just didn't want to believe how wrong I was about him. If I was wrong, then my parents and everyone else who told me he was not right for me and that he was a loser were on target. They were on target about him so it must mean that I couldn't make good choices about anything, right?
I've neglected to mention anything about my relationship with God during this time. I never lost my faith but my prayers were desperate and I relied on others to lift me in prayer as I felt so broken and so lost. I knew I had disappointed God and I was so unworthy. In God's goodness, He never abandoned me and instead propped me up with the love of my parents and my siblings. I had many conversations with Him alone at night. During those quiet times where I felt the first kicks of the baby I was carrying and the beautiful sensation of the life within me growing more and more restless, it was just me, God, and the Blessed Mother. It was a holy and intimate moment and I was sad that I could not really share it with anyone. I know my family would have been receptive and kind if I shared with them these moments but with me trying to plan my adoption, I didn't think it was fair to have them become emotionally attached to the baby if I wasn't going to parent.
When it was time for my ultrasound to find out the due date, it was then that I knew of God's presence. When I was told that the due date would be October 11th, I turned white for this was my birthday. How could I place for adoption if I had a baby on my birthday. It just seemed like a cruel joke. I decided it was time to make a deal with God. When I say deal, I don't dare to think that we are equals, but more like I went to Him in desperation to help me make hard decisions. I made this deal with Him - if I had the baby on my birthday, October 11th, I would know that this baby was meant to be mine to parent. If I gave birth on any other day then I would know that it was not my time to be a mommy and that he was meant for another family. I then just turned it over to God and counted the days until I gave birth.
October 11th came and went - that was a bittersweet day, for sure. My 20th birthday just meant that I was going to have to wait to be a mother. I remember nothing else about that particular birthday except that I just wanted to go to bed to get past the day. 6 days later, on October 17th, my water broke and I went to the hospital. My first call was to Steve but his roommate answered so I gave him the message that I was going to the hospital and his roommate responded with, "are you hurt?" He had no clue that I was pregnant! My next call was to my parents at work and they rushed home. In the meantime, I had called my aunt who lived next door and she held me as we cried and gave me some encouragement. It was a long day at the hospital - this baby wasn't going to make this easy on me it seems. During this waiting, I found out that my parents' friends spent the entire time in the waiting room praying. It humbled me and strengthened me to know I was being lifted in prayer. My mom and my twin (who borrowed a car and drove home from college) were in the room with me when I delivered a baby boy. No sign of Steve.
I barely remember the details of the birth - the nurses and doctors knew that I was placing so they were discreet and it seemed the excitement was tampered. Back in 1990, most adoptions were closed so it's not unusual that the adoptive couple were not there and the lack of fanfare was the norm. Baby boy had a slight issue with his heart so he was whisked to the NICU where he received the care that he needed. I believe that this was a gift for me as I was able to come to terms with placing for adoption without having to feel guilty for not having the baby with me. I did go down to the nursery with a few of my friends and family so they could see him. He was perfect. He was beautiful. I was on the maternity floor surrounded by excited families that are beginning their lives with their new addition and I was that one door with no name sticker on it. I was that one room with no balloons or flowers. I was that one mom with no baby. What was I? Once the delivery was over, I ceased to be anything but Kelly. I experienced the most emptiness I had ever felt in my life. I know the Lord was with me but it was a heavy time peppered with the sounds of newborns and new baby chimes. Still no Steve.
On my last night in the hospital, Steve finally showed up for a visit. He said he got my message but he had to work and that he didn't think it would be good for him to be in the way. I was a raw mess of emotions and I was grasping for anything to keep me from dissolving further into the darkness. He was not capable of providing comfort or kindness so I felt myself fall into the abyss of loneliness. The only thing keeping me from a complete free fall were my loving parents, my sister, my friend, Carol, and Christ Himself. It was a desperate claw to maintain my hold on sanity and I was exhausted.
On my discharge from the hospital, my dad came to bring me home. The empty-handed girl being wheeled off the maternity ward was being gingerly brought home by her daddy, the one man that loved her for her. Earlier that day, I spent 20 minutes in a private room where I could say goodbye to sweet baby boy. I know that he will never remember the words that I whispered in his ear or that my tears soaked his sweet, baby-fine hair. I pray that he knows that my love for him was so great that I knew the gift of his life was meant for another family. I wish I could think of a new emotion to describe that day. It was torture being led to the elevators just down the hall from the sound of the newborns crying for the comfort of their mommies and daddies. I looked up to the face of my daddy and saw tears on his cheeks and squeezed his hand. We drove home in silence and I went to my room. Several hours went by and I hadn't moved off the edge of my childhood bed when I heard the soft knock on my door. My mom came in and we burst in to tears. We then became emboldened that this isn't the plan. We decided we needed to go get our baby from the hospital. We got in the car and my dad approached us and, in his wisdom, asked us to wait until morning. He was right and I survived the night (with the help of a sedative) It never dawned on me to ask my mom and dad how they survived the night.
The next two weeks we spent signing papers, meeting the adoptive couple, and finalizing the adoption. On November 3rd, my baby became Jim & Michelle's baby. There was no beautiful ceremony to mark the day but my case worker called me to describe the first time they got to see their baby. She said many tears were shed and that Michelle stopped to remember me in prayer. About 3 days after the adoption I ran in to Michelle with the baby at a restaurant while I was with my dad. She was meeting people for lunch and they were oohing and aahing over the baby. I was frozen with not knowing what to do. Do I approach them? Do I stay and kind of spy on them hoping to catch a glimpse of the baby? I decided to ask my dad if we could leave because I didn't want to ruin Michelle's potentially first outing with her baby by popping into the scene and I didn't think I could handle the heartbreak of seeing the baby. It was a humbling and overwhelming day and that night, Steve broke up with me. STEVE.BROKE.UP.WITH.ME.
Steve drove a huge truck - you know the kind with the lift and the huge tires. It was exciting when he would come and pick me up and I'd show off my long, athletic muscles and hop up in the truck all by myself. I even sat in the middle - right next to him (back in the day, no seat belt laws) We would spend our evenings out in the country, hanging out with his friends. Very rarely did we spend time with my friends as they were so different and I felt uncomfortable trying to blend my two groups. Our evenings quickly escalated to us becoming more and more intimate. I knew the dangers of having sex outside of marriage but I just didn't really know how to say no once I said yes that first time. Was that a thing? Was I a jerk if I suddenly rejected his advances or asked him to stop? It never occurred to me that maybe he could accept my answer and love me anyway. I really only saw the world in terms of what I could do for everyone else and not in some altruistic, saintly way but because I did not feel as though my voice mattered so I didn't want to rock the boat.
About 6 months after we started dating, I was a freshman at college. I took a long bus ride with 4 of my friends to a health clinic to take a pregnancy test. This was after the 92 home tests I took!! Lo and behold, the test came back positive. I can remember feeling like all of the air escaped from my chest but, oddly, I also felt relieved. I'd finally have everything I thought would point to the fact that I was lovable! I knew it was going to be a ridiculously hard conversation with my parents as they weren't exactly keen on the relationship (rightly so!) and that it also meant that I would confirm my status as the "bad twin" but I just wanted to plow forward. My friend called my boyfriend and told him to get his butt down to school and comfort me. He reluctantly did so and I was excited to see his face and to see his reaction to the news. Huh...it did not go exactly as I had hoped. I believe the third or fourth thing he mentioned was abortion. A friend of a friend of a friend had one and it made things much better according to his friend. If I wasn't already deprived of oxygen at finding out I was pregnant I found it extremely difficult to find any way to catch my breath.
Thankfully, my parents brought us up being 100% pro-life. We prayed to end abortion, my parents volunteered at a crisis pregnancy center, we donated and marched. This also presented a unique set of problems in that how do I tell my parents that I had gotten pregnant despite knowing all of the physical and moral ramifications in doing so. I came home on a weekend and sat in our living room with Steve and said the words. It was brutal and quick. In the raw emotion of my youth I remember my mom kind of laughing out loud and I filled in the blanks (in my head) with things like "Of course you did" or "I knew you'd disappoint us" In actuality, I understand her response to be of overwhelming emotion. Perhaps becoming a parent myself has softened my memory of the event. I know my parents had to have been swirling with so many thoughts and me, at the ripe old age of 19, sat there daring them to say the wrong thing. Not to mention Steve just sat there and said nothing and in the few moments it might have been nice to feel like I had some help, he still said nothing. To my parents' credit, they didn't kill him nor did they make him feel like he was completely to blame. As a matter of fact, my dad insured he would be employed and my mom quietly tried to pull him in to the conversation. Again, nothing.
The sheer desperation I felt in trying to get Steve to jump in and love me is still an emotion I can feel. I just wanted to legitimize my situation. I didn't want to be the loser pregnant girl who was forcing her boyfriend to stay with her. I grew up with a best friend whose sister got pregnant in high school and she's still with the father of the baby - he stepped up even though they placed that baby for adoption. I continually tried to make my pregnancy bring us together so that I could just stop being the screw up that I thought I was. I was met with distance and lies throughout my pregnancy. Constant arguing which usually resulted in him leaving me crying in my driveway as he went on "guys weekends" or claims of working late.
I had decided that the only real option was for me to place for adoption. I began talking to counselors about where to go and who to contact to make these plans a reality. My mom was such a huge help by making the phone calls and supporting me through prayers and companionship. She went to all of my OBGYN appointments, almost all of my counseling appointments, and included me whenever she went to lunch with her friends. I'm not sure I adequately thanked her for her support for me at that time. It was such a tough time - my friends were coming home from college after a year away, including my twin. I was on the outside to pretty much everything that summer. My twin and her boyfriend were very good to me and made sure that I was invited to everything that they were but I spent many days on my own. I understood but really was only able to count on my family and one super friend in particular.
Steve wasn't too involved in very much of anything with me during this emotional summer. I was able to pin him down on our infrequent "date" nights to fill out medical forms and to discuss what he would like in an adoption plan. I knew it was only a matter of time that we broke up but I knew that it was going to happen sooner rather than later when he expressed no desire for further contact from the baby after the adoption. That, to me, was him saying he'd rather all of this - including me - go away. I weep for the girl that I was as I just wanted him to love me. And, believe me, I loved him through much of his crap. He had a terrible relationship with both of his parents and I encouraged and facilitated conversations with both of them. He also had a daughter already with a previous girlfriend and when I found that out (well before I got pregnant) I was all about encouraging him to be a part of his daughter's life. To then get pregnant and experience this crisis where his response throughout was pretty much "MEH", was baffling. I just didn't want to believe how wrong I was about him. If I was wrong, then my parents and everyone else who told me he was not right for me and that he was a loser were on target. They were on target about him so it must mean that I couldn't make good choices about anything, right?
I've neglected to mention anything about my relationship with God during this time. I never lost my faith but my prayers were desperate and I relied on others to lift me in prayer as I felt so broken and so lost. I knew I had disappointed God and I was so unworthy. In God's goodness, He never abandoned me and instead propped me up with the love of my parents and my siblings. I had many conversations with Him alone at night. During those quiet times where I felt the first kicks of the baby I was carrying and the beautiful sensation of the life within me growing more and more restless, it was just me, God, and the Blessed Mother. It was a holy and intimate moment and I was sad that I could not really share it with anyone. I know my family would have been receptive and kind if I shared with them these moments but with me trying to plan my adoption, I didn't think it was fair to have them become emotionally attached to the baby if I wasn't going to parent.
When it was time for my ultrasound to find out the due date, it was then that I knew of God's presence. When I was told that the due date would be October 11th, I turned white for this was my birthday. How could I place for adoption if I had a baby on my birthday. It just seemed like a cruel joke. I decided it was time to make a deal with God. When I say deal, I don't dare to think that we are equals, but more like I went to Him in desperation to help me make hard decisions. I made this deal with Him - if I had the baby on my birthday, October 11th, I would know that this baby was meant to be mine to parent. If I gave birth on any other day then I would know that it was not my time to be a mommy and that he was meant for another family. I then just turned it over to God and counted the days until I gave birth.
October 11th came and went - that was a bittersweet day, for sure. My 20th birthday just meant that I was going to have to wait to be a mother. I remember nothing else about that particular birthday except that I just wanted to go to bed to get past the day. 6 days later, on October 17th, my water broke and I went to the hospital. My first call was to Steve but his roommate answered so I gave him the message that I was going to the hospital and his roommate responded with, "are you hurt?" He had no clue that I was pregnant! My next call was to my parents at work and they rushed home. In the meantime, I had called my aunt who lived next door and she held me as we cried and gave me some encouragement. It was a long day at the hospital - this baby wasn't going to make this easy on me it seems. During this waiting, I found out that my parents' friends spent the entire time in the waiting room praying. It humbled me and strengthened me to know I was being lifted in prayer. My mom and my twin (who borrowed a car and drove home from college) were in the room with me when I delivered a baby boy. No sign of Steve.
I barely remember the details of the birth - the nurses and doctors knew that I was placing so they were discreet and it seemed the excitement was tampered. Back in 1990, most adoptions were closed so it's not unusual that the adoptive couple were not there and the lack of fanfare was the norm. Baby boy had a slight issue with his heart so he was whisked to the NICU where he received the care that he needed. I believe that this was a gift for me as I was able to come to terms with placing for adoption without having to feel guilty for not having the baby with me. I did go down to the nursery with a few of my friends and family so they could see him. He was perfect. He was beautiful. I was on the maternity floor surrounded by excited families that are beginning their lives with their new addition and I was that one door with no name sticker on it. I was that one room with no balloons or flowers. I was that one mom with no baby. What was I? Once the delivery was over, I ceased to be anything but Kelly. I experienced the most emptiness I had ever felt in my life. I know the Lord was with me but it was a heavy time peppered with the sounds of newborns and new baby chimes. Still no Steve.
On my last night in the hospital, Steve finally showed up for a visit. He said he got my message but he had to work and that he didn't think it would be good for him to be in the way. I was a raw mess of emotions and I was grasping for anything to keep me from dissolving further into the darkness. He was not capable of providing comfort or kindness so I felt myself fall into the abyss of loneliness. The only thing keeping me from a complete free fall were my loving parents, my sister, my friend, Carol, and Christ Himself. It was a desperate claw to maintain my hold on sanity and I was exhausted.
On my discharge from the hospital, my dad came to bring me home. The empty-handed girl being wheeled off the maternity ward was being gingerly brought home by her daddy, the one man that loved her for her. Earlier that day, I spent 20 minutes in a private room where I could say goodbye to sweet baby boy. I know that he will never remember the words that I whispered in his ear or that my tears soaked his sweet, baby-fine hair. I pray that he knows that my love for him was so great that I knew the gift of his life was meant for another family. I wish I could think of a new emotion to describe that day. It was torture being led to the elevators just down the hall from the sound of the newborns crying for the comfort of their mommies and daddies. I looked up to the face of my daddy and saw tears on his cheeks and squeezed his hand. We drove home in silence and I went to my room. Several hours went by and I hadn't moved off the edge of my childhood bed when I heard the soft knock on my door. My mom came in and we burst in to tears. We then became emboldened that this isn't the plan. We decided we needed to go get our baby from the hospital. We got in the car and my dad approached us and, in his wisdom, asked us to wait until morning. He was right and I survived the night (with the help of a sedative) It never dawned on me to ask my mom and dad how they survived the night.
The next two weeks we spent signing papers, meeting the adoptive couple, and finalizing the adoption. On November 3rd, my baby became Jim & Michelle's baby. There was no beautiful ceremony to mark the day but my case worker called me to describe the first time they got to see their baby. She said many tears were shed and that Michelle stopped to remember me in prayer. About 3 days after the adoption I ran in to Michelle with the baby at a restaurant while I was with my dad. She was meeting people for lunch and they were oohing and aahing over the baby. I was frozen with not knowing what to do. Do I approach them? Do I stay and kind of spy on them hoping to catch a glimpse of the baby? I decided to ask my dad if we could leave because I didn't want to ruin Michelle's potentially first outing with her baby by popping into the scene and I didn't think I could handle the heartbreak of seeing the baby. It was a humbling and overwhelming day and that night, Steve broke up with me. STEVE.BROKE.UP.WITH.ME.
You are brave and strong and selfless and faithful. You are cherished by a myriad of people and I hope you feel loved by me, friend!
ReplyDeleteEvery day I am reminded how blessed I am!
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