November is National Adoption Month. Across the country, conversations and events are taking place to celebrate members of the adoption triad: birth parents, adoptive parents, and adopted children. Many also take the opportunity to educate and promote awareness.
An acquaintance of mine, adoptive mother Lindsey Redfern, posted yesterday on her blog to mark the start of National Adoption Month.
Her blog post was entitled and themed, "Be Courageous" in regards to adoption. I was profoundly moved by her challenge.
Many of you know that I am adopted. I am very blessed to have a relationship with my birth father and his family.
What many of you might not know--and which takes all of my courage to post here--is that I am also a birth mother.
I will share that story below. But first I feel I need to explain why I am posting today. Being a birth mother is not something that I have been "public" about up to this point. It is not something that I am ashamed of; it is, in fact, a very special and tender part of my personal history. But I have had reasons, up to this point, to keep this part of my story a little more reserved.
Part of my hesitation has been that I work with children and teens. Being an example and a mentor is very much part of my job, and I am very passionate about being a good role model.
Part of it has been this sense of disassociation that has been growing over the past couple of years. The more time that passes, the less and less it seems real. Honestly, sometimes it feels like someone else's story. It only rarely feels relevant to my life now.
And part of my silence, I'll admit, has been fear. I belong to
The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (aka Mormons) and we commit to living the
law of chastity, which is that we will have no sexual relations with anyone but our spouse. My fear of the judgment of others has stayed my tongue on many occasions. That, and the world in general is not always kind to birth parents. It has been easier at times to say nothing.
Be courageous, Lindsey wrote.
Yes, I thought upon reading.
It is time to share my story.
***
I was 18, and in my first year of college. I had been trained by my Mormon upbringing to seek a husband, basically as soon as possible. I dated a lot, and in my second semester I started going steady with a guy who lived the next floor down. Things got serious quickly. We were young, I was very naive, and as I indicated, I was absurdly eager to get married. I thought he was "the one." Things escalated, and I didn't know how to slow them down again.
One night. A few minutes, really. It wasn't very pleasant. And the results were devastating.
That one lapse of judgment and self-control wrought havoc upon my soul for months and years to follow. I
immediately felt the departure of the Holy Ghost. I felt dirty...spoiled...used. Part of that is how I was taught to view extramarital sex, young as I was, and part of it was an honest spiritual response to my situation.
But the greater strain came two months later when I discovered that I was pregnant. I couldn't believe it. Those few minutes--he described it as "not even a full round"--changed the course of my life.
My first instinct was to marry as quickly as possible. But shortly after I disclosed my pregnancy, my boyfriend dumped me. He claimed that he'd been planning to do so for awhile. I don't know whether that was true or not. I simply knew that I was single, heartbroken, and facing an unplanned pregnancy alone.
Abortion was never an option. When I considered single parenting, I quickly realized that I was not very well equipped to raise a child, and more importantly, that I wanted him to have a mother AND a father. Honestly, I think that being adopted myself swayed me toward choosing adoption for my baby. My parents are amazing and wonderful, and I have never doubted their love for me. When I was candid with myself, I saw that I simply could not provide for this baby the kind of life that I wanted any child of mine to have. I wasn't ready.
I was introduced to Jen & Joe through mutual friends, and quickly bonded with them. Figuring everything out was complicated (a story for another time, perhaps) but by Christmas time that year, we had settled that I would place my baby with them.
My pregnancy was an average one, physically, but on an emotional and spiritual level, it was torture. I felt like I had no support (even though I did, in fact, have many people who loved and cared about me, though I suspect they were sometimes uncertain how to handle my situation). I tried not to get too attached to the "little monkey" growing inside of me, but that was impossible. As my due date approached, I was both eager and terrified. Eager to be done with the discomforts of pregnancy, eager to be done with my spiritual probation, eager to be done with the disparaging looks in my singles ward, eager to move forward with my life. Terrified of parting with this little person I hadn't ever met, but whom I already loved so intensely.
I went into labor on my due date. Once I was sure it was happening, I called my parents and Jen & Joe, who all headed down to Cedar City, where I was in school. We spent the evening together playing board games at their hotel, until the wee hours of the morning, when I decided it was time to go to the hospital. My mom and Jen were with me in the delivery room. On the morning of February 20th, little Ian was born.
He was beautiful. I treasured every moment that I had with him. Friends came to visit us in the hospital throughout the day, but I spent most of my time just cradling the baby. The next day, after we were released, my parents took us back to their home in Orem, where I spent time with Ian. I am so glad that I took those three days. I know that many people (on my side and Jen & Joe's) were concerned that I wouldn't go through with it. But I needed that time.
On the 23rd, Jen & Joe came to my parents' home, along with our caseworkers. We exchanged gifts. Then we signed all the paperwork. I did it as quickly as I could. My heart was pounding the entire time. I changed his diaper one last time, and then I placed him in his mother's arms and said "see you later."
It was the hardest thing I have ever done. I hope that it is the hardest thing I ever have to do, because it nearly broke me. I loved that baby so much while I carried him under my heart, and it only intensified once I held him in my arms. Knowing that I would not get to parent him, that I would not get to share in his life as his mother, broke my heart.
And yet, time has brought healing. Ian is now a happy and incredibly bright third grader, with two little brothers and so many people who love him. It was hard for me, for awhile. I ached for a long time. But I did move forward with my life. I finally was able to find spiritual healing. I finished college with honors. I have a career that I love. And though it took me longer than I ever thought it would back then, I got married to a man who loves and cherishes me more than I ever could have hoped for. My life is wonderful, and I have been so blessed.
I have never once regretted my decision to place Ian for adoption. I know, without a doubt, that it was the right thing for him, and the right thing for me. He has a loving family, with a mother AND a father, and all the things that I wasn't able to provide for at the time. And now I have my loving husband, and--at long last--a baby that I AM prepared to raise. I am lucky enough to have an open adoption with Ian and his family, so the love just continues and grows!
