AdoptionEdit >
Let's skip the part about "the boy." (From now on "the boy" shall be known as T.B. That's right, just like Tuberculosis.) Suffice it to say he was unhelpful, so I cut my losses. (By the way, I don't believe that any woman, especially a pregnant one with difficult choices ahead, should have to put-up with an unhelpful male. I believe that there are always alternative options even if the options aren't obvious or easy.)
I had made a plan with myself in high school to choose adoption for 3 reasons: 1. I am too young to have kids, 2. I wanted to finish college, and 3. There are so many couples that want children, desperately, and there was no good reason for me to choose abortion when I could make another couple happy.
I ended up pregnant in my junior/senior year of college. I was 24. When I first found out, I remember feeling the blood drain from my face. Even though I was scared and thought the world was going to end, I held it in for several weeks, until I finally broke down one night and called my brother, Joe. I was crying hysterically.
His response: "Cool, Em!"
Wait, what?
He continued, "I don't think mom will 'kill' you. And everything will be okay. Stop worrying." He calmed me down and we began talking about other things. He made me laugh. And after we hung up, I distinctly remember feeling that the world was, in fact, not going to end.
I started going to doctor visits. When they showed me sonograms/ultrasounds I was relieved to learn that I was having a girl - I didn't want any baby remotely resembling T.B.
When I finally worked up the guts to tell my parents, they were visibly upset, but they listened to my plan. And, no, it didn't remind me at all of "Juno" or "Saved!" My dad, as my mother eventually informed me, wanted me to keep the baby, but as he knew I could sometimes resemble a brick wall (once I made up my mind), he relented and grew to accept the idea of adoption.
It wasn't until I was 6-7 months pregnant that I started making any progress in finding a family. I tried several other agencies before I finally went to Google and typed "adoption" into the search bar and found the Independent Adoption Center.
The search options on the IAC website were like a menu. It was great. And there were sooo many families once I narrowed down what I wanted. I copied their Open Adoption website links and sent them to my mom. We ended up liking the same family -- the family I ended up choosing for my Zoey.
The IAC was helpful in every way that T.B. wasn't. The only thing they didn't do was massage my feet at the end of a long day at school. Annie, my OpenAdoption counselor, met with me on a regular basis. She was there when I needed to talk about my "emotions", and she even did me a huge favor by calling T.B. for me. I think they discussed what my plan was and the papers he could sign, if he chose to. THAT was a huge relief.
Annie contacted K & A, my "family". We wrote emails throughout September and October, and then met on the 1st of November. We went to the Spaghetti Factory. Conversation was mostly fluid and easy, but when it turned awkward or stale, we turned to our placemats for entertainment. K & A were open, friendly, and we all had a lot in common. Additionally, not a lot of our jokes were lost in translation. I hate it when jokes don't translate. By the end of the night, I had already made my decision. Annie told me I could "date" families; I didn't need to stick to just one, but K & A were exactly what I wanted. We all agreed on discipline, schools, lifestyle, religion, etc. I think A started brandishing his shotgun as soon as he got home, in preparation for the boys she'd start dating 16 years from now.
Going to school and being pregnant was really difficult. Zoey was a kicker and a hiccuper. She'd kick me during class and hiccup while I tried to sleep. I was tired all the time. I had to cook and clean for myself since I lived alone. Most nights I didn't start homework until 9 pm and had to wake up early the following morning. I wanted to skip class so badly. I had lots of friends, but none really understood the kind of support I needed. I never asked them for help and I didn't expect any either. Most of the time I resigned to the idea that I'd gotten myself into this situation, so it was no one's duty but my own to see myself through it. I knew T.B. would have created more work for me, so really (in that respect) I had made it easier on myself by cutting him out. I couldn't stand the thought of depending on someone so irresponsible, selfish, and cavalier.
Mentally, I prepared myself to be forever separated from Zoey, as a guardian, mother and protector. I took my prenatal vitamins, ate as healthily as possible, went to the doctor as scheduled, but I tried to ignore the little human. I didn't want to talk to her and then leave her to wonder where my voice was when she went home with K & A. This, ultimately, made it easier on me to let her go in the hospital. I did, however, crank up some Led Zeppelin, The Fratellis, and Justin Timberlake on my headphones and let her listen to them. Once, at the University Union Cafeteria, she kicked away to the Beastie Boys.
At first I found other people's reactions around campus annoying. Some people would just stare. I didn't look like a 24 year old so most people just assumed I was 19 or 20, and therefore being pregnant in college was inappropriate. Their reactions were doubly entertaining for me when they found out I had adoptive parents for Zoey. One professor literally stopped talking and slowly backed away from me. Another professor's face lit up as he expressed his desire to be considered a potential adoptive parent. However, my favorite moment came from my Saturday Photo in the Field class. The lights were dimmed as we viewed photo-slides. I was sitting in the back of the classroom, trying desperately to stay awake. The girl sitting in the chair next to me accidentally tipped her water bottle and caught it before it hit the ground. Despite her efforts to save the water, there was a small splash on the ground. I said, "My water broke." The entire class gasped. Then, realizing my joke, started laughing, some of them uncomfortably.
I went to a Birthing Class in late November. I was the only one there without a partner. "Awkward" doesn't BEGIN to describe that feeling. The couples and instructor were really nice, but I didn't like knowing that they all had questions buzzing around in their brains. When people don't get their questions answered, they tend to make judgments by formulating their own answers.
Zoey was due on December 13. She didn't show up until December 18, on the same day I was scheduled to be induced. December 18 is also my father's birthday.
K & A and their families were there, as well as my mother. But I chose to have only my mom in the room with me. It turns out that none of the nursing staff had read the hospital plan that Annie had faxed over. It didn't matter too much in the end. I just had to keep repeating that I wanted K & A to be the first people to hold her. That didn't work either. They threw Zoey on my stomach and basically forced me to hold her. I was grateful for that. There weren't too many things I let myself to cherish but a little baby screaming in my ear turned out to be one of them. I whispered, "Hey, why are you crying? You don't need to cry. I'm here."
Whispering into a screaming baby isn't effective. FYI.
20 minutes later K & A were in the labor room, holding her. K was a natural, lightly bouncing Zoey and speaking softly while A held his arm around K and looked-on.
I drifted in and out of sleep, snoring loudly.
It was difficult to judge when K & A were visiting with Zoey in the hospital since they had their own room. I didn't want to ask for Zoey if her mom and dad had her. But, looking back, I would have called Zoey to my room more often. I asked for her only once.
The next few weeks were painful, physically and emotionally. I cried at the hospital when I was alone. I cried on the ride home. I called my mom and cried while I was at work.
I cried for many reasons. "Was Zoey scared because I wasn't there? Or had she already forgotten me?" "Would she eventually resent me?" "Every inch of my body hurts." "I want my baby back." "I don't know why I'm crying, I just feel so damn depressed."
It took a long time but the feelings passed. I don't worry about Zoey anymore because I know she's okay. I get to see her several times a year and every time I do, she's more happy than the last time I saw her. K & A still keep in touch, they enjoy visits from me and my family. They even made me a password protected photo album on smugmug.com so that I can see her whenever I want. Today there are 575 photos and videos on Zoey's smugmug.
