Hello everyone….I have been tossing around this whole ‘blogging’ thing…and just didn’t think that I knew how to write until I started a journal….and now, here I am I’m blogging. I am in such a different situation than most other women (at least that I have found) that have placed children for adoption. Hopefully, this will help me find others who either I can help, or who can help me when I need it – and Lord knows, there are many days when I need the help, but have no one to ask….
So, welcome to my blog. I guess I’ll start at my beginning of living as a ‘birthmom’. A title, scenario, and experience I knew absolutely nothing about, nor ever thought I ever would.
10 weeks ago today, March 5th, 2011 at 6pm, I relinquished my parental rights to my son.
I had spent the last night with my son, just him and I. I talked to him, sang to him and told him I loved him so very much. I didn’t sleep, I watched him sleep, and cried…and cried…and cried some more. My eyes looked as if I’d been in a boxing match, swollen from the tears that woudn’t stop falling no matter how hard I tried. I hadn’t shed a tear up until this point….well, that I let anyone see.
I have never been one to display my emotions to anyone, I internalize. But that day……the hours leading up to ‘the signing’……it didn’t matter who walked through that hospital room door. As soon as they made eye contact with me, they knew they were in the presence of a woman who was not in any sort of control of her emotions. I burst into tears whether it was a nurse, doctor or someone who was merely delivering the meal I had ordered. They got it full force. Through my uncontrolable sobs, I attempted to apologize profusely, and some acknowledged my emotional state and attempted to say kind words of comfort (mainly the nurses). Others didn’t say anything (the person delivering my meal who just wanted to drop the tray get the heck outta there without making eye contact) and the ‘baby Doctor’ who came in and just started talking to me to ensure I would relay a message to the adoptive parents about when they were supposed to bring him in to his office before leaving town. Then, there was the Doctor from the practice that I had my OB care from, who 2 days prior while checking in on me asked how I was doing. I told her I was doing OK, and she made the extremely cold, uncaring, unemotional, thoughtless but still very realistic comment in front of D, ‘Well, the tough days are coming.’ This visit she made, it was just her and I in the room, and I’d like to think that I got her to understand (in as much as you can get someone to understand in a 10 minute visit why you were making a life altering decision to let others raise your child you created and carried for the last 39 weeks). She heard me out and had tears in her eyes near the end of my explanation, so because of the tears, I’m letting myself believe that she heard me.
After I completed all my paperwork, the Aparents had to do theirs. It was another hour and a half I got to spend with my son in my arms… I remember after I had finished signing my paperwork, I walked back into my room and I had to go and sit in the bathroom as I had started bleeding profusely….(I hadn’t even had to wear a pad after the c-section up until this point). I believe this was my body reacting to the trauma my heart was going through right then.
A nurse who was in the delivery room happened to come up to L&D. She didn’t know I was checking out and was happy to see us. She sat with my sister and I, and just said the most kind words. I explained my situation to her prior to delivery, I just wanted people to hear me out and understand the complete frustration, feelings of being overwhelmed and alone, already raising one child without a father (and I still do). She was so supportive, and wonderful. She really understood that this was the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to make in my life, and I hated being in a position to have to make it, but felt it was what was best for my little boy. I want people to know that I am a good mom, who loves her children and who only wants the best for them, and will do whatever it takes to get it for them – like finding 2 parents for him, when I am only 1.
Then, all the paperwork was done….it was time to leave. I remember this time being so ‘dark’. Not only because the sun had gone down and this point, and we hadn’t turned on any lights in the room while visiting and waiting for them to finish up their paperwork, it was emotionally dark… I remember D (Amom) walking back into the room and seeing her through the slightly open bathroom door giving an emphatic fist pump. I remember feeling like she was punching me in the stomach with that gesture. I know that definitely was not her intention, and she didn’t know I could see her. It was the 7 years of waiting to be a mother that she was celebrating, but I will never forget it. It was a terrible feeling, it was a celebration of her wait being ‘final’. I remember getting a feeling of being left behind. We hugged, but I felt she wasn’t really in it – she was so happy (I remember thinking ‘giddy’, she’s actually giddy) about being able to leave with her newborn son, and to get as far away from me as possible. All the focus had shifted – and believe me – not with any intention – but I truly felt it.
We gathered our things, and I sat in the wheelchair and they placed him in my arms. This was the first time I held him as ‘theirs’. The ride out of the hospital was a blur. I just remember D being giddy, and I think I even remarked to her that she was. She was videotaping ‘the event’. When we got to the outside of the hospital, the cars were already there. I handed him to her, and we hugged with him in between us. I cried, and as she took him to H (Adad) I just stood there, looking at them strapping him in the carseat trying to see just one last glimpse of the little boy I was letting go. But I couldn’t, all the nurses were checking the straps etc…. I didn’t want to leave, I just stood there and waited until they were all ready to go. I then reluctantly walked to my car and got in the passenger seat. My sister started driving away and all I could do was look in the mirror, to see their vehicle, but they didn’t follow….and we didn’t wait.
It was done….and my life as a ‘birthmom’ had begun.