I keep replaying my pregnancy and the first few days after Jennifer's birth over and over again my head, seeing so clearly now, all the deception and the carefully orchestrated design made to prevent me from keeping my baby. It replays over and over, and each time I keep screaming to myself at every point where I could have chosen to keep my baby. I see all the times when I could have escaped the "adoption plan" and then felt I was being bad for entertaining the thought.
While I was still pregnant, my grandpa's girlfriend, Ina, called me. She begged me to keep my baby, even offered me money so that I could keep my baby. By then I had resigned myself to the adoption, and had been pre-matched with a couple. I didn't want to let them down. I had promised them I would give them my baby. Also, I was single, and there was zero chance of getting married, because of my age and because the baby's father and I hadn't spoken during the entire pregnancy. We were both so young. My parents had been through a divorce, and I felt estranged from my father. I felt I had grown up without a dad, and that no matter how much money I had, I couldn't give her a dad unless I gave her away to strangers. While this was true, I was mistaken in thinking the remedy for my child having no father was to also not have her mother.
Just after the birth, I held my baby, caressed her, and studied her face. She was a beautiful baby, as are all of my children. I instantly loved her. I remember sitting up in bed crying and a staff member at the hospital came in and saw me crying and went and got someone to sit and talk with me. I think it was a nurse. I remember feeling enormous pressure to give my baby away, and this nurse was kind and offered me free pictures of my baby, a lock of her hair, and a hospital (unofficial) birth certificate with my daughter's foot prints on it. I agreed to these things. I hoped it would make it easier. I still have them tucked away, though most of my treasured pictures of her babyhood and childhood got water damaged at a later date. I still have that birth certificate. In fact, my daughter, Gwen, found it in my things a few days ago and brought it to me. She said she thought it might be important. I said it was important, and I told her what it was, then put it away safely. There was a place I could have jumped off the adoption train. I could have told that nurse that I didn't want to give my baby away, and could have asked for help. I could have asked to be shown how to breastfeed, and put my baby up to the breast right that moment. I did tell the nurse that I wanted to pump for my baby and give her my milk, because I knew that was the best thing for her. I wanted my baby to have the best, even if it hurt me. I was convinced that giving her away was the best thing for her, because it seemed like that was what all the responsible adults were telling me. Why didn't I listen to Ina?! I wish I could have that moment back!
I remember sobbing while handing my baby over to Denise. She asked me if there was anything she could do to make it easier on me. It was a chance to get off the adoption train. I could have said, I don't want to do it! Instead, I said, be the best parents you know how to be. Denise later told me that after I left the room, she almost went down the hall and called me back to take my daughter. I told her, I would have taken my baby back from you that instant and never looked back. I wanted my baby! I wanted my baby!
Jennifer's bilirubin was high (probably because she was born at 37 weeks and because she wasn't being breastfed on demand, which helps flush the body of the broken down red blood cells), and so she had to stay at the hospital after I was discharged. After a day or two at home, I told my mom, I wanted to go back to the hospital and check on my daughter. I hadn't signed away my parental rights yet. My mom told me she wouldn't take me. I wish I had told her that I changed my mind and wanted to take my baby back. I couldn't drive myself to the hospital, or I would have driven to my baby's side and held her again.
Jennifer was born on a Wednesday. The court hearing was on the following Tuesday. She was six days old. I remember saying to the social worker/adoption agent that I didn't know if I could do it. She asked me if I wanted to put my child in foster care a few days and think it over. I thought I was being bad by entertaining the thought, so I quickly snapped the idea out of my head and said, no, I didn't want my baby to go to foster care. I wanted as little upheaval for her as possible. What I really wanted was to hold my baby again. My arms were aching with emptiness. I went to the hearing. It felt like I was in a fog. I don't know what happened. My mind has blocked that memory. I was shocked that I went through with it. I could have changed my mind, but wanted to be "good" and follow through with what I had promised. Oh how I wish I could undo that moment!
These memories keep replaying in my head over and over and over. I keep screaming to myself to have courage, to be truly brave. Everyone said I was being brave and courageous to give my baby up, but I didn't feel it. I felt defeated and beaten down. I needed a carseat, clothes for my baby, and diapers. I needed someone to help me navigate applying for welfare services. It was daunting. I tried during the pregnancy to apply for the help I needed and attended a WIC informational meeting. I found out I would need my parents' cooperation with income reporting and felt absolutely overwhelmed. My parents had never before given me access to their financial information. I felt it was a forbidden topic, so I went home from that appointment and just cried and cried and cried. And then I looked up adoption agencies in the phone book.
From the moment I called the adoption agency, they began calling me a birth mother, as though I had already decided to give my baby away. I instantly felt pressured and coerced. They gave me letters from potential adoptive parents to read, and all of them addressed me as a birth mother. So, I thought I was a birth mother, and to think otherwise I was somehow being selfish. After all, everything from the agency said it was a SELFLESS act to give my baby away. So, conversely, I would have been selfish to keep my baby, right? I asked to meet a couple from one of the letters, and that's when I met Kelley and Denise. I felt sorry for them, being unable to have a baby of their own, and because I was meeting them, I felt I had already promised them my baby. It was all so carefully done. I asked for information about adoption and was given an image that made it sound like my child would have a lifetime of lollipops, unicorns, and rainbows. I was assured my child would know she was adopted, and because of that, she would be okay with it, and wouldn't suffer any ill-effects from it. I was given hope that I would someday reunite with her and that we would have a happy, uncomplicated mother-daughter relationship. I was brought to numerous adoption panels so I could be served this kool-aid over and over and over. Looking back, I can see the brainwashing so clearly.
All of these thoughts are in a continuous loop in my head. I wake in the morning and I'm instantly replaying these memories. I replay them all day long, and fall asleep thinking about Jennifer, trying to hope, praying she will change her mind and talk to me again. I feel absolute despair about it, though.
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