Practice makes Perfect, even when it's extreme

I've been thinking a lot about some thing's that I've posted and the power that they've had over me. I have this habit of sometimes saying things that are too brave for how. I think I do this because I've always been one to rely on myself, which is all well and dandy to an extent, except for when you are hurting and you say you're alright so you don't worry those who care about you. That's how the old Kathryn used to live. She was always concerned for other's at the expense of herself. She always viewed pain and frustration as weakness and then she placed her child for adoption and part of her died. That same part that died has now been reborn and she, I, am more aware of my words and what I say to other's. Sometimes, I say things that are too brave for how I feel.

In one of my previous posts I mentioned that I am no longer afraid to succeed. I've been thinking about that since I posted it, trying to wrap my mind around what those words actually mean. They mean a lot. They are a little scary, too. I am so excited for 2010, there is a lot I want to accomplish by my new birthday. I have two birthday's now, my date of birth is in February, and my date of rebirth is November 13, the day an angel entered my life and taught me what it is to really live. I feel so hopeful now and that's so exciting, but at the same time, this hope is so new that it intimidates me.

"I am no longer afraid to succeed." I have to keep saying it in my head so that I can figure out whether or not I believe those words. I do believe those words. The next step, the acting on those words, is what's got me nervous now. It's beginning to dawn on me exactly how poor my self-esteem was in my former self. I always knew that my self-image was lacking severely, but, I never realized how self-destructive my inability to believe in myself really was. I fully understand it now and I'm grateful for the enlightenment. Now I just need to act on it. So, I've come up with a plan. This next year I am going to choose something in every major area in my life that I would like to improve on and work on it. The first area in which I would like to improve is an easy one for me to recognize. I want to get into shape. I'm not in the greatest shape and it's something that I've been wanting to fix for a long time now, and actually became religious about achieving before I was pregnant. I was always too busy to go to the gym, and it was true. Between work and baby daddy, I never had a second to myself, but it was also because I didn't value myself as someone important enough to make time for. The beauty of my life now, is, I really have all the time in the world before and after work. That being said, my dear faithful friends, I am making a commitment to myself and I am sharing it with you and will give you updates on how it all is working out, that way, in a sense, I have someone to answer to when I'm not living up to my expectations.

My fitness schedule for the week will be:

Monday: Cycling class at local gym at 6 a.m., protein shake for breakfast, lunch- salad with chicken cubes and piece of whole wheat bread, dinner- salad and chicken. Bed by 10 p.m.

Tuesday: Protein shake for breakfast, lunch- salad with chicken cubes and piece of whole wheat bread, arm and core strengthening exercise in the evening, dinner- salad and chicken/salmon. Bed by 10 p.m.

Wedensay: Cycling class at local gym at 6 a.m., protein shake for breakfast, lunch- salad with chicken and whole wheat piece of bread, dinner- salad and chicken. Bed by 10 p.m.

Thursday: Protein shake for breakfast, lunch- salad with chicken and piece of whole wheat bread, arm and core strengthening exercise in the evening, dinner- salad and chicken/salmon. Bed by 10 p.m.

Friday: Protein shake for breakfast, lunch- salad with chicken and piece of whole wheat bread, dinner- salad and chicken/salmon, PLAY DAY!!!... or laundry, whatever is needed most.

Saturday: Protein shake for breakfast, cycling class at local gym at 9:15 a.m, lunch- salad with chicken and piece of whole wheat bread, arm and core strengthening exercise in the evening, dinner- salad and chicken/salmon. Laundry if not done the night before.

Sunday: Protein shake for breakfast, get my religion on, lunch- salad with chicken and piece of whole wheat bread, dinner- potatoes or various other vegetables and chicken/salmon.

Pretty mundane and more active than I've been in a long while, but definitely doable. I'm excited which means I know I can have success with this plan. But, the biggest change which is going to be the most difficult to stick with, is no more caffeine. All of this I am going to start one week from today. The only reason behind this is because I have to go to a beginner's cycling class before I am allowed to go to the regular one, which I missed tonight because I didn't know it was tonight, but they have another one on Saturday, so I will go to that one instead. All in all I am very excited about this because it will be a welcome change to the last year, pretty much, where I hermitized myself in my apartment because I was scared to be recognized as being pregnant and not married. All lame fear in retrospect, but it's done with. So, starting on Fridays/Saturdays, from here on out, one of the things I will be reporting on will be my progress.

My mantra for 2010 is, "I will succeed because I am no longer afraid of my own success." Good night everyone. Let 2010 be the year you find success, I know it will be for me.

Identity Crisis?

I was talking with my sister and she commented with bleievable force about something she liked. It caught me off guard how sure she was of what she said and without thinking I said, "I wish I knew what I liked and why I like it?" She looked at me in surprise and again I responded without thinking because I realized how true my comment was. I told her that I feel like I'm finding out for the first time who I am and what I like as opposed to what I do not like. She told me that it comes with time and understanding of yourself that you learn who you are and I've always known that, it just surprised me to hear myself declare that I didn't know who I was. I turn 25 in February, I feel like I should know who I am, but I'm afraid that I don't. When I was 18 I moved to New York on a whim to become a nanny. When I say, "on a whim", I mean that one day I called the agency that placed me and expressed my interest to become a nanny, and 2 days later I filled out the paperwork and within a week that I initially made contact with them I had passed the background checks and they were showing my profile to potential families. The first family called me the day my profile was shown and I accepted their offer. I moved out one month after I made that first phone call, which is very fast in the nanny world. I wish I could say that my intention for moving out to New York was pure and for the adventure and experiences I would have, but the truth is that I was afraid of what home had to offer. When I say home, I mean the state of Utah. The town I grew up in was a wonderful town, but girls from this town were notorious for marrying young, having never even experiencing college-life, and making lots and lots of babies and never really experiencing anything else in life. And, while that works just fine for some people I knew it wouldn't work for me and I also knew that if I started dating someone, I would settle for them, even if it wasn't what I wanted. What I am trying to say is, I knew I would take on the identity that they wanted me to be and I was scared to death that the identity would wear off later on in life when I really found out who I was. I was afraid of marrying for an identity. I'm not saying that the girls who do marry young are marrying for an identity, I'm saying that I'm different from those girls and I've never really known who I am.

There is a beautiful irony to this story. That irony is that in the time that I have been home from New York, the guys that I have dated are all different from each other in the most extreme ways and I was always adapting to who I thought they wanted me to be. It wasn't bad in the beginning, because those guys were fairly normal, but as I dated more and more guys, they progressively became more and more troubled and with more severe problems and I was morphing into something rather scary. I went downhill fast. I never experimented with drugs because, well, I wasn't that stupid, but I compromised my integrity to a severe degree and I knew what I was doing, I was aware of the decisions I was making and there were so many warning signs and yet, I continued on, moving from bad to worse, to downright horrific. I remember my ex, we'll call him Army-boy as he is in the Army, I dated him before my most recent ex, Baby Daddy.

One night I got a call from Army-boy asking me to come out to see him. I was excited to see him because it had been a while since we had seen each other due to his responsibilites with the National Guard. I drove out to his house and he invited me in. The moment I walked into the house I knew something was wrong, it was tangible in the air, and every sense I posess immediately went on alert. We walked into the kitchen and, in order of appearance, I saw his father, two long heavy duty flashlights, broken chairs, holes in the wall, and an open bottle of vodka on the table nearly empty. He casually introduced me to his father and then had me sit down. His dad went on to explain to me what had occurred that night. Army-boy had called his father in a rage and drunk beyond measure, threatening to kill himself. His dad went over to his house straight away and a fight ensued. His dad didn't dare leave him alone and asked Army-boy who he should call, and that's where I come into the picture. Through simple dialogue between Army-boy and his father, things escalated and Army-boy hit a door so hard that it fell off it's hinges, splitting in half. I was scared beyond belief and his father said, "Army-boy, that isn't necessary. Stop it, you're scaring Kathryn!" Army-boy turned around to go ballistic on his father and started stalking towards him and I was so afraid I called his name, "Army-boy!" He looked at me with a fierceness on his face that still turns my stomach to think back on it and then his face softened and he approached me, cupped my face in his hands and said, "I would never hurt you. You're my safety, you're my hope." I stood as still as I could, though my knees were shaking, and his father said something, and at the sound of his father's voice, Army-boy again became tense and enraged. His father left before any further damage was done and I was left there with my suicidal drunk and angry boyfriend. He started to yell at me, "I'm tough! I'm hard! You think I'm weak?! I'm strength!" I was alone with him and I stuttered, "I know you're tough... I never doubt that, I know you're strong... I" and before I could finish it, he started repeatedly to hit another door with his bloodied fist, it cracked in half and I screamed because I was terrified. He turned around as if surprised that I was there and then he started crying and apologizing to me that he had scared me, and then he held me in his arms to comfort me. I got him to bed and went to sit in the other room. I was scared to be alone with him that night and I wanted to be awake should he wake up in a rage. I didn't want to be caught off guard. I remember thinking to myself, "This is not okay. This is bad. What have you gotten yourself into, Kathryn." I knew I needed to break up with him, but I couldn't because that was abandonment, and I hated myself that I couldn't leave him. I thought about it for hours that night, I knew what kind of future I would have staying with Army-boy and it horrified me. I knew I would be safer and happier if I left him, but I couldn't and I remember thinking to myself, "Kathryn, you are making a decision right now. Remember this decision for when things go bad. Remember that you are not a victim and that you chose this right here, right now." I knew who I had to be, the identitly that Army-boy needed, I was his safety and hope, but that's a hard order to fill when the person needing it isn't ready to accept it into his life.

By the time Baby Daddy came along, I was ready for a change. Army-boy had been cheating on me and I was always there when he needed to feel safe and needed something better to hope for. Baby Daddy was a dream in comparison to what I was used to. He was light-hearted and he made me laugh. He had dreams and goals and he liked me for who I was, which meant a lot because I didn't like who I was. He called me his inspiration and I was always encouraging him to go for what he wanted when he doubted himself. It was easier being someone's cheerleader than someone's safety from themselves and I thrived in the role of motivational speaker. But, eventually Baby Daddy began to change and become more anxious. He blamed it on lack of sleep and stress and I willingly believed him because that's what a cheerleader does, they believe in and cheer on their team, even when they have doubts of their success. Baby Daddy started to become distant and he started telling me how to wear my makeup and would punish me if I wore too much makeup by withholding his affection. I gave up religion because I knew that the things I was doing were wrong and I was ashamed of who I was. Baby Daddy would never do anything with my family and every time I was with my family he would call me or text me asking when I would be done because he missed me and needed me. I became distant from my family and before I knew it people I had never even met were calling me and threatening my life. Turns out, Baby Daddy was a meth-addict and drug dealer. I ended up breaking our engagement and leaving him and at that point he was too lost to even care that I was gone. I remember thinking missing Army-boy so much and thinking how much I appreciated him and then I remembered how dangerous he was and then thinking that I would take him back in a heart beat because, "An alcohlic is safer than a meth-addict." The scary thing about that is that I believed it. Then I found out I was pregnant.

I wish that I could tell you that I know, without a doubt and with complete clarity, who I am, but I have no clue. What I have learned about myself and do know is that I am strong, I survived the most difficult thing I've ever had to do and will ever have to do- I placed my baby boy in the care of a couple that is more capable than I am at this point in my life. I have vision, I understand that I am not ready to raise a child, especially alone, and I know he will be better off with the family he is with now. I have integrity, I won't lie to you and say that abortion never crossed my mind, and I especially won't lie to you and say that I wasn't disgusted in myself when the thought to terminate my pregnancy did cross my mind. I have always been pro-life and have debated and written college papers on the importance of pro-life and have scathingly spoken about girls who choose to terminate pregnancies because "there are so many people out there longing for children of their own who cannot produce them on their own." I could have terminated my pregnancy and no one would have ever known I was pregnant, but I also knew that to do so would go against everything I have ever believed in and that I would lose the last miniscule bit of respect that I had for myself if I did terminate. I am compassionate, I can now relate with those girls who terminated their pregnancies because I now fully understand how scared and ashamed they were to be able to make that decision. I am empathetic, I truly feel the hurt that other's feel and mourn with them when they mourn, I want to help them get through their grief because I grieve. And, I can love and I owe that knowledge to my baby boy who taught me what love really feels like. That's not a bad start to figuring out who I am.

I view hardship as a gift because it teaches us what matters the most in our lives. The trials we experience can affect great change if we allow them to, they stretch us beyond ourselves so that we are capable of accepting the change that is before us, we just need to not be afraid of the greatness we can achieve. I know that I can achieve great things and the beauty of it all is that, now I'm not afraid to achieve greatness in my life. That much I know.

Night in Bethlehem

I've been at my sister's house this entire month and it's been real nice because I'm not ready to go back to my apartment to be alone. There is this family who lives across the street from her that, every Christmas, they host a Night in Bethlehem. They rent a donkey, lambs, sheep, and chickens and they dress in clothes that resemble biblical clothing and re-enact the story of Christ's birth. It's an older couple and their raised children and their children's families are the actors. This year they were in need of a baby to play baby Jesus, so my nephew was baby Jesus. This family has a barn that acts as the Inn and then they have a seperate stable where Joseph, Mary and baby Jesus are at. It was really cool because there were over 450 people there tonight and the barn was packed (come to think of it, I'm sure some law or another was broken, but that's beside the point) and it was chaotic. They even had extra people, not related to the family, but that were volunteers to play the wise men, the shepherds, the Roman soldiers, angel Gabriel and various other characters. So, besides the the 450 guests who were coming to see the re-enactment, there were at least 30 or so actors and the various animals. It was packed and there was hardly any room to move.

I have a social anxiety and so it was hard to be in this barn that was packed over it's capacity. Various actors were walking around speaking in Arabic, or something like it, and Roman soldiers yelling for obedience, some guy who was trying to sell his chickens who were freaking out and I was holding (more like clutching) my niece close to me so that she wouldn't get seperated. My mom kept accidently blowing out her candle (yes, there was fire, too) and going to get it lit again and I was wearing heels (not practical, I know). And then some man started yelling at someone and we all looked, he was saying, "Look around you, we are full to capacity, there is no more room in the inn!" Another man spoke, "But my wife is heavy with child and we need to rest." Again the harsh reply from the innkeeper and then once more, a plea from Joseph, "Please, look upon her yourself. Do not turn us away, I beg of you." The innkeeper then looked at Mary and his face went from aggressive to the most humbled look I have ever seen on a man's face and he said, "Clearly we can make room for you somewhere, but we must hurry. Make way, make way!" And at that they tore a path through the crowd, room that did not exist moments before, as Mary was led to a manger on the back of a donkey by her husband Joseph who looked scared and relieved at the same time. The crowd started to push forward as we all started to make our way outside in a frenxy, and I was being pushed back further and further. My heart was pounding because I was afraid I wouldn't see the baby. We all followed them out to the back of the barn and they disappeared.

The next scene was that of the Shepherd's in the fields. They were being told by other shepherd's who had just returned from Bethlehem about the 3 kings they had seen, kings who were looking for a fourth king, a baby. And then high above all our heads and angel appeared out of no where, I kid you not. One of the actors, the man playing Angel Gabriel was high up above us and a light shone on him and it was breathtaking. A chorus of music began to play as the Angel Gabriel began to prophecy of the birth of the Messiah and how the shepherd's could find him. As quickly as the music began and the angel appeared it stopped and the spotlight shown on a stable that wasn't there before and in the manger were Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus Christ. The actors in the crowd started to sing "Silent Night" and it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life. The crowd joined in and many of us were crying.

I've been thinking a lot about Christmas this last month. I've heard other birth mother's talk about how the holidays are now ruined for them and they no longer enjoy Christmas and I've been worried that I would take on the same mentality, but I've noticed that the Christmas season has meant more to me this year than it ever has before. I have a whole new understanding. I've been thinking about how Christ wasn't raised by his father, Joseph wasn't his father. Heavenly Father entrusted Christ's life to Mary and Joseph and Mary and Joseph both understood the mission of their baby boy, Jesus. I can't help but think of the night Christ was born and Joseph and Mary finally experiencing this little baby that was entrusted to them and the awe they must have felt towards the tiny baby in Mary's arms. I also can't help but to imagine how much Mary must have kissed his forehead and cried as she looked at her son and realized that one day he was no longer going to be hers, the day that he would complete his mission and return to his father and mother in Heaven and I think I understand her better and respect her more than I ever considered to before.

The story of Christ's birth and ministry and resurrection is the greatest story ever told and I can't help but be thankful for my own story and Baby Boy's involvement in it. I can't be sad about this process because so many blessings have come from it. I am grateful that I was entrusted to bring Baby Boy into this world. And, as I held him in the hospital, I was in awe of his perfection and I recognized with a heavy heart the sacrifice that I would have to make in order for both of us to have a chance at the life we deserve. The sorrow subsides a little more each day and it is a deep one, but I'm grateful to understand it and to witness the blessings that are coming from it. I feel sorrow, but I'm happy because this is a beautiful story and I want to share it with everyone. Baby Boy is my happiest story, he is my new beginning and I am blessed to be his birth mother. The Holidays are not ruined for me, rather, they are even more special and beautiful to me than they were before and I'm grateful for my baby boy for making it so.

Just keep cutting out your coupons, lady...

I've been thinking about something that happened while I was in the hospital after Baby Boy was born. It was my second evening in the hospital and I still had 2 days, or so I thought. Turns out, if you have a c-section like I did, you have 4 days from the hour the child was born, no more, no less. I didn't want to leave at 5:21 in the morning because that would have made the goodbye even harder, so I opted to leave late the night before so that I could make the most of my last day with him. Anyway, back to the point of this blog entry. My second evening in the hospital was one that pains me to think back on, though it paled in comparison to the moment I placed my baby in the case worker's arms and left him. I was up and walking around the ward, pushing my baby in his little pram, stretching my legs when the Pediatrician asked me to step into the nursery so she could check baby's vitals (a routine thing) and so I followed her into the nursery. She happens to be the Pediatrician for my sister's children so she knew who I was and I had been open with her about the fact that I was placing my baby boy for adoption. She was talking to me about it in the nursery and telling me about a family member of her's that had previously been in a similar situation to mine and how she respected me for the decision I had ultimately come to. She was very supportive. She also suggested that I contact the hospital social worker to see if I could leave after breakfast on the fourth day so I could have more time with him, I considered this, but before I could respond, the Patient Care Assistant who was sitting at the table CLIPPING COUPONS interrupted and said, "That isn't an option. When it comes to adoptions, regardless of the situation, the baby and mother are seperated after 24 hours." I was horrified and responded, "I think you've been misinformed, because the way it was explained to me, as long as I am here, the baby is here." Her response, "Nope. It is hospital policy that after 24 hours, regardless of the situation, the seperation occurrs." At this point I was openly sobbing.

The Pediatrician quickly ushered me back to my room explaining that she wasn't sure of the policy and that she would contact the hospital social worker to come and see me immediately to discuss my options. The coupon-clipping-reject kept repeating the supposed 24 hour policy like she had uber-authority in the matter, even though I was obviously distraut, the idiot wouldn't back down. Not even 10 minutes later, the Pediatrician was in my room attempting "disaster recovery" on me, probably hoping to avoid a law-suit, though she didn't know that I'm not the type who sues no matter how disgruntled I am, and her presence and attempt at small talk infuriated me even more as I cried harder and harder as I held my baby boy for what I now thought was the last hours I would ever hold him. The social worker came in and I explained what had occurred and she was livid. She apologized to me and explained that I would not be seperated from my baby until I was ready and it was on my terms. She went and spoke to the "authority-on-the-matter-coupon-clipping-reject" in person and firmly let her know that she, in fact, had no authority whatsoever to state the claims she made, even if she had been correct, which she was not. She scheduled a disciplinary hearing for the girl to meet with the Charge Nurse to be reminded of what her role and position at the hospital is and what would happen should she forget. The greatest part, however, is that the social worker is setting up classes at the hospital for any staff that would most likely ever come in contact with a patient that is placing a child for adoption and how to treat them in that case.

It occurred to me, through this experience, how some people view adoption. I think that, for some people, when they here that a girl is going to place her child for adoption, that the seperation occurs with the decision to place. Along with this, for anyone who has never experienced pregnancy, it is hard for them to understand the bonding and connection that occurs during the gestation period between mother and child. You put these two things together and you have one completely ignorant person, like this girl I experienced at the hospital. For her, the connection between me and my child broke once I decided to place him for adoption. To her I was just some girl who found herself inconveniently pregnant and in trouble and was trying to "get rid of my mistake", as other people have worded it to me. To her, I had no emotional connection to this child, I just gave birth to him and was "giving him away". Those words, "giving him away" hurt my heart to say. What she didn't understand, and what a lot of people don't understand, is that not only am I mourning the loss of my child- a decision that I made out of the heartache and sorrow that I couldn't raise him on my own- but I was also mourning the failure of a relationship to a man I had loved and was engaged to. Not only that, but I was, and am, dealing with the anger of how my engagement crumbled because of his addiction to drugs- an addiction he hid from me for a long time. I quit my job and moved away so he couldn't find me because he became dangerous, and people who were even more dangerous than him that he had ticked off, began contacting me and threatening my life over his debt to them. I'm not just a girl who got in trouble with a guy she didn't know the last name of. I'm a girl who was in love and engaged to be married to a man she trusted and felt safe with until she found out the truth about him. And now, not only do I mourn the loss of the hopes and dreams I was expecting to have in my marriage with that man, but worse, I'm trying to wrap my mind around the fact that my baby is no longer mine.

Disconnect between me and my baby boy will never happen, and I don't think people understand that, either. They expect that I should be fine in time, and I will, but the hurt will always be inside, even when I am married and have children with the man I'm the wife of, the hurt will still exist because I'll still be short one beautiful boy, my first born son. That's not to say that I won't find happiness and joy in my future children, I will, but it's all complicated, like the feelings I have now. I'm happy that Baby Boy is safe, I just wish he was safe with me. That will never change. Birth mother's are not women who are trying to get rid of their problem's, that ideology is sickening. Birth mother's deal with a lot more than placing their child for adoption, that's only the tip of the iceberg, and yet it's also the whole iceberg. And that's what this girl didn't understand. To her, I wasn't a mother, I was a girl who had a baby who was trying to get rid of it. I'm a mother. It may be a different kind of mother, but I am a mother. I will always worry about him- that he's happy, safe, secure, well loved, eating enough, sleeping enough, being loved enough, being treated well by other's, whether he's being hugged and kissed and praised every day- I will alway's worry because I'm his other mother.

Dear Santa by Patty Savol

Dear Santa,

Today I'll write my list out-
It really isn’t much-
Maybe just a phone call,
A picture, letter, or such.

Its only been a month,
Plus a few days more,
Since the day I saw them take
My baby out the door.

I swore I wouldn't cry,
and for days I didn't dare.
I knew that he understood,
I know he knew I cared.

But this year my list will be different,
No CDs, candles, or clothes,
I only want one thing from you,
And that's to let him know I love him so....

Perhaps this isn't an order
That you can fill yourself,
So maybe you can ask God
If he can offer a little help.

After all He sent the angels
That comfort my little man,
So maybe he could ease my fears-
I've done all I can.

So now I'll close this letter
With a thank you, and a please,
Send my boy a piece of my heart
Because this Christmas he won't be with me.

Love Always,
A Birth-Mother

Working Class Hero

Last week was my first week back to work and it was only for part days. It went well, actually, much to my surprise. I remember how stressed I was before I delivered baby and how unsure I was becoming in my job, but I feel more capable than I ever have at this job and that makes me happy. It's nice to know, also, how much my boss appreciates me as she couldn't stop telling me how happy she was that I was back. Last week was very busy, not only with work but a lot of other stuff... stuff, interesting word choice, sorry, my brain hasn't fully recovered from work today.

There were some things that stood out to me last week. On Saturday, the 12th, I was having a very hard time sleeping. I've had a hard time sleeping lately and I don't know why that is. I used to be a deep sleeper and now I wake up at the softest sound. My friend Ryan is a paramedic and he has been an amazing support to me throughout this entire process. He was driving home from the North from working a late shift late Saturday night and I was talking with him on the phone. It was a hard weekend as the night of the 12th was the one month mark that I went to the hospital to have Baby Boy. He asked if he could stop by to see me and I said that I would love it if he did, but I doubt he would feel like it as he got closer because it was already one in the morning Sunday morning at that point. He said he would call me as he got closer. I didn't think he would so I got ready for bed. To my surprise he called me an hour later and asked how to get to my apartment because he was getting off the freeway exit. Flustered, I explained it to him and next thing I know he is knocking on my door. I let him in and we sat and talked for about 40 minutes. It was a nice conversation and it was nice to have his company. He got up to leave and I walked him to the door and he gave me a hug. Ryan gives the greatest hugs. As he was holding me, he said, "I'm glad that you are safe and doing well, it's been a hard month for you and I'm glad you are doing better." He then held on to me. It was a long, tight squeeze and it felt really good. I had been anxious and it felt like my body was breaking into pieces, but that the only thing holding me together was my skin, which felt like it was crawling beneath the surface. Everytime I though about the events at the hospital, and I was spending a lot of time thinking about the hospital that weekend, I felt like there was an ocean inside me that was drowning me from the inside, I couldn't breathe and my heart would pound, but during that hug, the ocean calmed down and my heart calmed down and I felt normal and hopeful, like I would be okay. I had a lot to think about during that hug, I was very much aware of how I felt in comparison to how I was feeling and how I was hugging him back and how thankful I was for his friendship. That night as I was going to bed, it occurred to me how much I love Ryan. He is one of my dearest friends and he has been so supportive, but more importantly, he treated me normal when my life wasn't normal. I am thankful for him and for what he represents to me. It occurred to me as I lay in bed going to sleep that I deserve to have a relationship where I feel safe, a relationship where my significant other respects me and supports me when I need it. I'm always the one taking care of the guy, bending over backwards and wearing myself out so that he is taken care of. That night, being hugged by Ryan, was the first time I've ever been taken care of and I deserve to have a relationship like that, a relationship where when I am tired of being strong and need someone to be strong for me, they will stand up to the challenge and be my strength when I have no more. I am so thankful for Ryan for teaching me this and for being an example to me of what a great man is.

On Tuesday, I met with my Bishop and I was extremely nervous because of all that I needed to discuss with him. I haven't been to church since July and even then, I only made it to the foyer where I had a panic attack and couldn't go any further, so I left. I tried going back a couple other times, but I could never seem to make it past the foyer. It's hard to be single and pregnant in a state that emphasizes "no sexual relations before marriage" and "eternal families". I had bought myself a fake wedding ring at the beginning of my pregnancy in hopes that it would distract people from my pregnant belly, the only thing was that I could never bring myself to wear it because is was a lie. I had been lying so long about how I was living my life and then I became pregnant and my secret was obvious, so, I couldn't bring myself to wear the ring. I made my appointment with my Bishop on Sunday when I went to church. I was anxiously anticipating how I would approach the topic of my pregnancy out of wedlock to my Bishop. I rehearsed it in my head, "Have you ever heard of the terms birth mother or first family?" No matter how I rehearsed it, I couldn't shake the feeling that he was going to view me as some sort of predator scoping out the scene for my next piece of meat to corrupt and destroy. I know that sounds crazy, but that's how I felt. The night before Tuesday and then again druing the car ride to the church for my meeting I was praying in my head, it wasn't even a formal prayer, more like dialogue spoken in thought to whoever was listening in on that moment, expressing my concerns for when I met with the Bishop. My meeting went well, he was very understanding and I have started the repentance process. He is supportive of me through this process. What was interesting to me was what he said before I left. I asked him if I was allowed to participate in class discussion and he said, "Yes, absolutely. The only reason we would ask you not to is if we did a Disciplinary Counsel, which we aren't going to do. And the only reason we would have a Disciplinary Counsel is if I felt you were a predator, which I don't." I know that God is aware of me, even in my imperfect state of being, my Heavenly Father is aware of me and he felt it was important to let me know that he does not think I am a predator and he voiced that to me through his humble servant, my Bishop. I am thankful to have this understanding.

Thursday night I went to a post-placement group for birth mothers and I learned a lot through the dialogue shared by others and the dialogue I shared with others. I am a strong person. I was asked to share my story as I was knew and I am a strong person. I left a relationship that had become dangerous, I then found out I was pregnant 3 weeks later, in a moment of weakness I nearly went back to that relationship, but I didn't and it was a good things because 2 weeks after I found out I was pregnant my ex was attacked by 3 men and nearly killed- it scares me to think that I could have been with him when he was attacked, I then started receiving threats and so, I quit my job, moved away where I couldn't be found and I carried my child full-term and delivered him and then placed him with a family where he would be safe, away from harm in case his father ever found me, as much as I wish I could have kept him, I didn't because the thought of his life ever being placed in danger killed me on the inside. I am a strong woman and I'm not afraid anymore. The girl who used to be afraid to be alone and would find herself in horrible relationships because of her fear of being alone, the girl who was postponing her life from progressing because she was afraid to stretch herself to grow because what if she failed- that girl is gone. She died when she left her baby in the social worker's arms. The woman who was born from that girl's sorrows is here to stay and she is fearless. The old me died at the parting of my son and the new me is here to stay and I now know my potential and I now recognize my dreams and they are beautiful, I now know my purpose and it is divine. I feel alive and I owe it all to the birth of my beautiful baby boy. I am a lucky woman to have been blessed with an angel and to be given a second chance at life. I'm not going to blow it this time.

Last week was a good week full of lessons and I am grateful that I am in a place where I finally can recognize how blessed I am. I look forward to see what this week has in store for me.

I'm still here...

Things have been so crazy busy since I returned to work last week. I am planning on updating the blog, hopefully tomorrow, as to what all has been going on. I feel like I'm awake for the first time in several years. Things that weren't obvious to me before are now very apparent and it is easier to recognize the blessings that I experience every day. I am really excited to share all that I've learned within this last week. I feel really hopeful and again and I haven't felt that in years. I feel like I finally know what I want to do with my life and am taking steps to achieve that. My baby boy is healthy and strong and safe and the knowledge of that has brought so much peace to my soul. I wish I had time to go over everything right now, but it is 11:30 already and if I don't get to bed now I am going to really regret it come tomorrow morning when my alarm is going off and I am trying to justify just ten more minutes. I will ultimately end up cutting breakfast out of my day to make up the extra 20 minutes I'll end up sleeping in. A growling stomach will make for an extremely long morning. so, I won't be updating the blog tonight. Not that it matters, as no one is reading this thing, but it is a form of therapy for me and I have every intention of sticking with it. So, good night self and allow tomorrow to be a beautiful day. Sleep peacefully knowing that your baby boy is safe and healthy. He is being cared for and looked after by people who love him. What more could you ask for? He is loved. So, sleep well, self because he is. Good night.

Baby boy

Today you are one month old. I can't believe how fast time has gone by. I have a feeling it's only going to get faster. I love you so much. Good night, sweet boy.

Love,

your birth mother

Toothpaste, the ocean, and some spare change...

Last night I was at the grocery mart buying toothpaste because no one likes plaque or gingivitis. I left the store and was driving out of the parking lot and noticed a man with a sign huddled up against the brick of the building he was next to. He had a sign asking for spare change. He is homeless. It was around seven o'clock in the evening and last night it was below zero degrees. I pulled my car over and got out and walked up to the man and gave him a couple of dollars, he held my hand for a few seconds longer than I expected he would and he looked into my face and said, "thank you". There were tears in his eyes as he repeated, "Thank you so much." I walked back to my car, slowly, desperately wanting to turn around to go talk to the man, but ultimately chickened out at the last second. I don't make it a habit of conversing with homeless people. If I feel inspired to, then I'll give them my change, but that's usually the end of it. This man, however, I can't seem to get out of my head. He was middle aged, probably in his mid to late forties. I just wanted to know the events of his life that led up to him being huddled in the winter cold, trying to keep warm on the side of a building, in the dark. Yes, there are shelters, and soup kitchens, and yes, McDonald's and Walmart are always hiring, but that's not the point. Who does this man belong to? Does he have children who are looking for him? And, does he miss them as much as I miss my child?
I was talking to a guy-friend of mine about this man and my friend was alarmed to hear that I almost stayed to talk to this gentelman. My friend went off on a tangent about all sorts of bad that could have befalled me and said that I need to be more careful and that I could have been killed. I understand where he is coming from, those are the same fears that got me back into my car last night, but I still feel like I should have stayed to talk to that man. I can't explain my reasonings for feeling this way, it's all definitely out of the ordinary. I would like to think that it has nothing to do with placing my child for adoption and this need I've felt, ever since, to nurture those that are helpless. This homeless man, I wouldn't call him helpless, he is able to apply for a job at the previously mentioned businesses, so clearly my need to nurture the helpless has nothing to do with my wish to have stayed to talk with him. Instead I feel like I understood him on a level that I've never thought to try to understand him, or anyone, for that matter. And, yet, I don't know what that level is that I understand him on.
Have you ever felt desperate to connect to someone? I can't help but wonder how long it's been since that man felt a hand grasp his back because my hand grasped his hand back. And, maybe that's what is so alarming to me and, maybe, that's why I can't get him out of my head. I understood him on a level that I was not intending. He made me feel something that I wasn't expecting. This all sounds crazy and delusional, I understand that, and I don't think I'm explaining it correctly. He doesn't know anything about me and I don't know anything about him. We are two strangers living on the same planet. He doesn't know that I just placed my first born son for adoption and I don't know the events that led to his no longer having a home. We are two people who exist on the same planet who are searching for the same thing, home. Home is where your heart is and my heart doesn't feel like it beats anymore.
I feel empty and scared. I don't sleep very well anymore and when I am sleeping I dream of my baby boy and when I wake, he isn't there. I don't eat a lot, I don't have an appetite for anything, so when I do eat it's because I'm forcing myself to do so. I've heard of grief being described as a wave. I'm floating along in the water, fine with my place in life, and out of no where comes a wave and it crushes me into the depths of the ocean and I'm struggling to resurface. I finally make it to the surface and I'm haggard and tired and eventually the water becomes peaceful again and I am floating, only to be swallowed by another wave. That's a good way of describing grief, I think. It makes sense to me, that way. Only, last night, someone grasped my hand and pulled me out of the void I've been in and I noticed someone else other than my self and I saw the grief he's experiencing and I knew what he felt in that brief moment our hands were grasping one another's. I should have stayed to hear his story, I believe it would have done me a world of good to step out of my own grief and share in the grief of someone else.
I don't care if he bought booze with those two dollars, I don't care if he did anything else stereotypical of what we ignorant people claim the homeless do with the money we give them. I don't care what he did with those two dollars. For one long second last night, I connected with someone again and I don't care what he did with the two dollars, I just wished I would have stayed to talk with him.

Yesterday was a good day, no tears, no hole in the pit of my stomach, I actually resembled something of a human being- that and I am back to my pre-pregnancy weight and my pre-preggers jeans fit better than they did before. I went to the local library to play the piano. They have a digital piano that they allow patrons to play on, it has headphones, so no one is able to hear how badly you suck or how amazing you sound, for that matter. It was the first time I had played the piano in four months, if not more. I was a little rusty, but it was an amazing relief, all the same.
As I approached the desk and employee to get the headphones and give him the keys to my car as collateral, I couldn't help but notice that the guy was handsome, and then without delay I glanced his left hand, no ring. I was a little shocked in myself. He asks me for my library card and I told him I left it at home and offered my car keys, he gave me a look like he was about to deliver a lecture and before he opened his mouth I blurted out, "I'm so sorry, I usually have it with me, but I forgot my wallet. Are car keys not enough? How about," and I reached into my pocket and pulled out my apartment keys, "my apartment keys. Would you like my apartment keys?" In response, he gave me a look as though I were hitting on him and then it occurred to me, "he thinks I'm hitting on him." I was mortified, and I didn't know how to back pedal myself out of that one, so instead, I lamely started mumbling to myself and walked away to the piano room. In my defense, it has been a long time since I've been in a situation like that with a guy, normally I am quite charming and endearing, but it's been longer than a year, nearly two years, for that matter.
Later, as I went to retrieve my car keys from him, he gave me a look like he was relieved that I was leaving, and still very awkward. I don't blame him, it was awkward. That was the first time yesterday that, while I may now fit into my normal jeans, I'm still not a normal person yet and that's okay.
Last night, I went to a singles activity at my church. We were wrapping Christmas gifts for some families in the area who aren't able to provide a Christmas for their children this year. I was very excited to get out and do something, as I've been a hermit for the last 10 months. I was also nervous because I didn't know fully what to expect, or how I would react emotionally to single testosterones. It went well, actually, seeming as everyone was 18 or 19 years old, and... I'm nearly 25. Please recognize the humor in this, as it hit me like a ton of bricks as soon as I entered the room. It was fun listening to the dialogue and thinking back to the times when my cares also consisted of if who I like better, Sponge Bob Square Pants or Patrick Starfish, I wish I were joking, but that brings me to my next point. It has also been a long time since I thought that dialogue, such as that, was found to be adorable by the testosterone's in the vicinity. Okay, maybe I never thought that was adorable. I was, more or less, more interested in the sit-ins of the 1960's and John Lennon and Yoko Ono's love-in when they got married, "Everybody's talkin' about revolution, evolution, mastication, flagellation, regulations, integration, meditations, United Notions- Congratulations. All we are saying is give peace a chance. All we are saying is give peace a chance!." John Lennon and Yoko Ono were on their honeymoon and they invited the medias camera's into their hotel room and they had a love-in where they sang the whole time. Their room was full of people and the entire time they were there they stayed in bed and sang. It was beautiful. But, I digress.
That was the second time yesterday that I realized, it might be a little more difficult than I originally thought to be able to relate to people again, on a less superficial basis. Don't get me wrong, they were all very sweet and welcoming, but I also felt like their mother. And, then it occurred to me, like the day I found out I was pregnant, that my life will never be the same. I am a mother. I don't think that is something that people really internalize when I discuss adoption with them. I think that people who are further removed from the situation than the actual birth mother in question, believe that once you place your child for adoption, that it's done, and you no longer have to be concerned for the child, almost like you were a surrogate, or "carrier" for someone else. I don't have frustration with these people, they've obviously no clue what they are talking about because they've never been a part of the process themselves. I will never be the same. I am a mother. I chose not to parent my child because there was no way I could have provided for him, that, and his father is a dangerous man and I never wanted him to find out about my son. That doesn't mean I don't love my son, or that I am not connected to him. I will always be connected to him, I carried him for 9 months and then brought him into this life. I learned his sleep patterns, I know what his interests are, I know what types of food he doesn't respond well too, I know the way he likes to be held, and the way he prefers to be wrapped in his blanket, I have his cry imprinted on my brain, I can hear it still. He will always be my son and I will always be his birth mother.
I am also a young single woman who has to relearn how to relate to other single adults and I have no idea where to begin. It's a journey, a process, like any worthwhile relationship and one I'm excited to participate in. I don't know what I was expecting life to be like after my son was born and after I placed him with the social worker, but it wasn't this, and that's okay. I think I like this better because I'm more aware of who I am and learning how to learn who other people are. What's not to like about that?

Babies, babies everywhere, but none of them for me...

It's been three weeks tomorrow since I placed my child in the social worker's arms and that's strange because if you asked me, time hasn't existed these last 3 weeks. These three weeks have been the longest of my life and yet, it's hard to believe that Baby Boy is already nearly one month old. I don't know where that time went and, yet, I remember every specific second of it. Most of it was spent sleeping. I sleep so I don't have to feel. I don't want to feel jealous of the adoption couple, to me that emotion is ludicrous because I chose them to raise my child. They are the most amazing people I've met and I knew he was supposed to be their son, I chose them and I'm grateful that they exist because they will be able to provide all the things for him that I can't and I'm not just speaking materialism here, I'm talking about the emotional aspect of it all, as well. I could have raised my child, many single moms raise children alone every year and they make it work, I could have raised my child. I could work 3 jobs and never see my child because he would be in daycare all day and never see me, his mother. He would just know the daycare attendants better, and rely more on them, than me, his own mother.
When I was younger I never planned my wedding, not to specific detail anyway. I always just knew that I would get married and that was that. What I planned and dreamed about was the life I would have and the family I would have. The wedding was never a big deal to me, it was the life afterward that had me fascinated. I remember in first grade we had a career day where parent's would come and talk about their career and what type of education you would need, etc. There was a woman firefighter who asked me what I wanted to be when I was older and I remember, clear as day, saying, "A mommy." That's all I ever wanted from life, was to be a stay at home mother. She laughed at my response and said, "Honey, you can be a mommy and work, so, what do you want to be when you grow up besides a mommy?" Well, I was thoroughly confused, but I thought about it for a second and then I looked up at her and said with an unsure waiver in my voice, "A wife?" Needless to say, she saw that she was getting no where with me and moved on to another child.
I grew up the youngest of 8 kids and both my parents worked because, well, they had 8 kids to provide for. When I was younger it never really affected me because when I got home from school there was a whole slew of people to look after me and keep me entertained (I was 5). But, as I got older and my siblings were moving out to their own respective places, the house seemed to get larger and larger, and more quiet than ever and, eventually, it was just me. My senior year of high school was the first time I ever had a stay at home mom and I remember coming home from school and walking in the house and there was a noticeable difference, it's odd, but the house always seemed warmer, in a good way. I always knew, growing up, what I wanted for my future family. And, working 3 jobs just to get by, was not it.
I've been thinking about all these past events a lot lately. I feel like I forgot for the longest time after high school what I always knew I wanted, and I morphed into this person I didn't recognize anymore, a person who grew distant from her own family and I'm ashamed of that.
Today was my nephews blessing at church. He is 10 weeks old, just 7 weeks older than my baby boy and the resemblance between the two is shocking. It was a beautiful blessing and he looked so handsome in his white suit. There were babies everywhere in the chaple and it was hard. I looked at all my sisters and sisters-in-law and they have beautiful families and they are all such amazing mothers and I feel like I'm reconnecting to everyone in my family, but there is still an emptiness that is deafening inside.
Today was the first day that it occurred to me what I'm going to miss out on in my little boy's life. Sitting in the chaple, time stopped, and then zoomed forward and all the events that I will never be apart of echoed in my head: his blessing day- he won't be placed back in my arms, his first photo with Santa Claus, his first day of school, his baptism, when he receives the Priesthood, his dating years, his first crush, his first love-lost, his graduations from school, the day he meets the love of his life and proposes to her, his wedding day, his children. In that one second, thirty years passed and my baby grew up and I wasn't there for any of it. And, I am jealous of the people I trust with my whole heart to raise him, because they are going to be there, not me. But, I am so grateful for them because they are able to give him every opportunity in the world, and most importantly, when he comes home from school, he will come home to a warm house, not an empty one.
There were babies everywhere today, but none of them were mine and that knowledge has consumed my mind and once again, I think time has stopped.

Journal entry, November 16, 2009

Dear Sweetheart,

It turns out that today is our last day together before I place you with your parents. I hardly know what to say. I laid you down on my chest because you were crying a little this morning, which is rare because you have hardly cried since you've been here, and you fell asleep. I think you were soothed by my heart beat. I rubbed your back and kissed the top of your head for, what must have been, the thousandth time since you've been here. I sang you an Irish lullaby and you fell asleep in my arms and I kissed you some more. I kissed your tiny little hands and fingers, individually. I rubbed your legs, you like that, as I rubbed your perfect, little legs, you stretched out your feet and toes- it was so cute. I kissed your feet and toes. You still smell like earthy maple. Your skin is so soft. As you slept, I would trace your face with my fingertips. You like that, too. As I traced your face with my fingertips, you turned your beautiful little face up to mine and you slept so peacefully. You are so beautiful, baby boy.I then kissed your adorable little pixie nose and cherub-like squishy cheeks, and your perfect little chin and little rose-petal lips. And then I kissed your forehed again. I did this all day. I love you so much, baby boy. Remember that.

Love,

your birth mother

Journal entry, November 15, 2009

Dear Sweetheart,

Today you met my brother Joe, your uncle, and he usually isn't a fan of holding brand new babies, but he sure loves you. He held you and he just stared and stared at you and commented on how much he feels connected to you. He says you have the sweetest temperment, and you do. You hardly ever cry unless you need a diaper change or are hungry and when you cry you sound like a little squeeker toy. He loves you very much and he gave you a little stuffed dog to remember him by. You also met your uncle Rob and his wife Rachel. They stared at you for the longest time, also, without saying a word which is unusual because they are such great conversationalists. But they just stared with looks of awe and love on their faces. They finally spoke and said, "He's beautiful. He's perfect. I feel connected to him." Baby Boy, we may not see each other that often in this lifetime, and you may never meet your aunts and uncles again, but we are connected. I grew to know you while I was pregnant and you are an amazing little guy.
You may not remember me, but we had nine months together. We have some things in common. The first time I saw you on the ultrasound, you had your hands folded underneath you and you were sleeping on your stomach. You also had your ankles crossed. That's how I sleep. I've always slept with my hands underneath me and my ankles crossed and I sleep most comfortably on my stomach. That was a really special moment for me and one I will never forget. You are a night owl, as well, like me. That's when your kicks were the liveliest and so far in the hospital, you sleep majority of the day and are wide awake late at night, looking around with your big, beautiful eyes, taking in the world for the first time. You love music, like me. I first learned this when I was still pregnant with you. I went to play my piano (I've played for 14 years now) and as I was playing, you started reacting to the music immediately and began kicking. I loved that moment because I know you heard the music. You typically would kick in the morning around the time I would wake up, between 8 or 9 a.m. and then again around lunch time, which is usually around 2 or 3 in the afternoon for me and then again at night as I would lay down to go to sleep. I would fall asleep feeling you kick me and then wake up again around 2 or 3 in the morning to use the potty and, guess what, you would be awake kicking away at me. This is how I knew you could hear the music, because it was around noon that day that I was playing the piano, a time when you were typically resting. Throughout the rest of my pregnancy with you, every time I would turn on the radio and there was a good beat, you would react immediately. As we've been in the hospital, I've noticed this too. When you start to get restless or anxious, I'll sing to you and you calm right down. Music is in your blood and I couldn't be more pleased about that. Music will always be your ally, along with your family. Music and my family have always been there for me through life's difficulties and that can be the same for you. So, you see, you and I have always been connected and we always will be connected through the things we share in common. My family feels that same connection towards you, too. We love you.

Love,

your birth mother

Dear Sweetheart,

We cuddled again all day today. You have been with me every day since your conception from the moment I wake up, and now till I can no longer hold you late at night, due to my exhaustion. The nurses have been getting after me because I don't want to eat because that takes away from the time I get to hold you. So, I worked out a deal with my mom. She holds you while I eat because you love to be held and we love holding you and putting you down for even one second in the baby pram is not an option. You are my life and joy. Good night, my baby boy.

Love,

your birth mother

Journal entry, November 14, 2009

Dear Sweetheart,

Today you met my father and he cried at how beautiful and perfect you are. He wants me to tell you that he loves you and that he will always love you and that you will always be his grandson. You met your birth grandma, my mother, when you were brand new as she was in the delievery room with me. She got to go back with you and the nurses when they cleaned you up and made sure you were healthy and safe. She loves you so much, sweetheart! She also wants you to know how much she will always love you and remember you. You will always be her grand baby. She is a huge fan of yours and mentions your beauty and perfection to everyone she meets. You also met your aunts, Jessica and Tricia, who are my older sisters and they held you and coo'ed over the cute noises you make. You have all of the features of my side of the family that are recognized by abyone who knows our family and you look similar to so many of your cousins. Every one of my siblings who have met you, love you like their own. Know this, you are loved by more people than you will ever remember. We love you, baby boy.

Love,

your birth mother

Dear Sweetheart,

Today we cuddled all day. You love to be held and you fit in my arms perfectly like a puzzle-piece. I kissed the top of your head and forehead at least 100 times. You fit perfectly in my arms. You will always be my son. I love you my dear, sweet, angelic baby boy.

Love,

your birth mother

Journal entry, November 12, 2009

Dear Sweetheart,

It turns out that last night's escapade was not a false alarm, afterall. I drove to work today feeling exhausted, even after a wonderful night's rest. I was exhausted all morning at work and attributed it to the shot of medicine the night before. I went in to my appointment with the "baby" Doctor and it turns out I was ready to bring you into this world and you were more than ready to be here. My doctor sent me straight over to the hospital to be admitted. I had to call my work and tell them I wouldn't be returning today because I was having a baby. It is now 12 o'clock, noon, and I am laying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a ton of machines and listening to you on a monitor. You move so much! I can't help but laugh. Your movement is the most beautiful sound in the world to me, besides your heart beat, which is so strong it makes me happy. The nurse keeps coming in to re-situate your monitor because you move around so much, and it's making both of us laugh. I love you, my baby boy.

November 13, 2009

Baby Boy,

It is now midnight, morning of the 13th of November, 2009 and you still aren't here. I can still here you on the monitor. The sound of your heart beat is comforting to me because I know that you are alright. It's okay for you to take the time you need to get here because I love you and I don't want to rush you because my time with you is the most precious thing in the world to me. Take the time that you need, baby bot, and know that I will always love you.

Dear Sweetheart,

Happy birthday, Baby Boy! You were born at 5:21 a.m., by C-Section. You weigh six pounds, fifteen ounces, and are 18.5 inches long. You have so much black hair, and your cry is the most musical sound I've ever heard. You are an angel. You were in heaven only a couple of hours ago, and now you are here. You are perfect in every way and are healthy. You smell so sweet, like the earth and maple. You are beautiful, and you are here, and for 4 heavenly days, you are mine. I love you.

Love,

your birth mother

Journal entry, November 11, 2009

Dear Sweetheart,

Tonight, you and I went to the hospital because I thought I was in labor. It turns out it was a false alarm and I am grateful because that means I get more time with you. I was still in a lot of pain when the nurse sent me home, so she gave me a bog shot in my hip with medicine that eased the pain. I have a feeling I'm going to sleep well tonight. You are moving so much right now and I love every second of it. I love you so much, baby boy.

Love,

Your birth mom

My Baby Boy

Baby boy was born on Friday, November 13, 2009 at 5:21 a.m. He was 6 pounds 15 ounces and 18.5 inches long. He had black hair and eyes that will, no doubt, be blue and he smelled like earthy maple. On Monday, November 16, 2009 at approximately 8:30 p.m., I, Baby Boy's birth mother, placed him lovingly into the arms of a social worker to take to his adoption family. The last noise I heard him make was 2 sneezes. The song that played on the radio as my mom drove me home was "A Christmas Song". It never occurred to me until that moment how lonely of a song it is, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." it sounds lonely. Well, that was my thought at the time.
This blog is not about chestnuts roasting, or yuletide carols being sung. This blog is the journey of a birth mother after she gives up her first born child and how she will find herself. I've kept a journal to give to my son one day, it's about our time together while I was pregnant with him and it's also about me, his birth mother. I hope that it will answer the questions he'll have about who I am and where he came from and why I made the decision to place him for adoption, and it explains how hard that decision was, though the decision was no where near as difficult as the moment when I left him with the social worker.
One hope I have for this blog, is that it will educate people and help them to understand that adoption is a gift to all involved and not something that should be hushed and hidden. Adoption is a blessing to all involved. It gives those not ready to parent another chance to achieve the goals they wanted, but lost sight of along the way. It helps build a family for couples who aren't able to have children of their own and are desperate for a family. And, most importantly it's a chance at a better life for the child that comes into the world to parent's who realize, all to soon, that they aren't ready to be parents. Adoption is a gift. That's what I hope this blog will help people to understand.