A Birthmom's Story

I try to get as many perspectives out on this blog as possible. One of the perspectives that I haven't captured yet is that of a birthmom.

Here is one woman's story about how she became a birthmom. To me, this story is a wonderful reminder about the loss that is associated with adoption. The birthmom must never be forgotten in the story of adoption. Adoption doesn't just change the life of those adopting and the life of the child. It also forever changes the person who carried that baby in her womb for 9 months. Here is Birth Mom Talks story.

I was the second daughter to my Mom and Dad. My sister was a year and half older than me. The first ten years of my life seemed pretty normal. My parents owned a two story family home and we had the stability of two parents home. Or so I thought. My sister remembers the breakups more than I do. Most my childhood memories are of my sister and then of my Dad, because I thought he was mean. My Dad is a real physical type of guy so even when he wasn't mad at us he was always causing physical pain. When I was a kid, I didn't know it was just who he was. I thought he was mean. In total, my parents had four kids. My brother came along when I was about 8 years of age.

Shortly after that, in the fourth grade, my parents lost our home. I never knew how good I had it until it was gone. We move to an apartment and all our childhood memories in that home are gone. Not gone, but I hope you know what I mean. Before, I was a 6th grader, we moved several times. I was in three different schools between 5th and 6th grade. Also, two different schools between 7th and eight grade. When I was 12 years of age, my little sister was born. This would be around the time that my parents split up for the final time.

My Mom had a new boyfriend right away and my Dad wasn't happy about the split. They were both too wrapped in their own lives to pay my sisters, brother and I much attention. My sister was left to babysit us and soon that was also dropped on me. As a child, I always followed my sister around. When our parents were not paying us any attention that didn't change. She skipped school. I skipped. We both missed out on most of our 7th and 8th grade years. My Mom didn't have a clue until the school took me to court. My sister hung out with the wrong crowd and so did I. My Mom never talked to us about sex or our periods and what to do or what not to do. So, things changed very fast. I went from a girl who didn't think about boys to seeing how cute they were and how they paid attention to me.

I met Todd who was about five years older than me and tried to see him as much as I could. We were in love. Or so I thought we were. As soon as I suspected that I was pregnant at 14 years of age, he moved and quit coming around. So, I thought I was pregnant and my sister drops a bombshell on our Mom. She is pregnant. She is still with her boyfriend, but Mom wanted her to get an abortion. She refused and was kicked out. Our Dad took her in, but was living in a one bedroom hotel room until he met someone who would become his wife. My sister had her daughter on Aug. 12th 1991 and raised her. So I was very afraid. I was afraid for my baby's life. I didn't tell anyone that I was pregnant. I hid it and now I was the main babysitter for my Mom while she worked and ran around with her boyfriend. The four of us ended up in a hotel room and I babysat the summer of 91 from morning till night. I hid the pregnancy by wearing the only huge shirt I owned and loose pants. I was so scared of what my parents would do to me. On the early morning of Sept 11 1991, I felt contractions. I was so scared. I didn't know what to do. That morning, before school, I told my Mom that I was pregnant by rape. She was shocked but didn't question me any further. So, I went to school and in labor. By 4th hour, I was in a lot of pain and went to the nurse. My Mom had already said you don't need to keep it. So, my Mom sent my aunt to take me to the hospital. We get there within 10 mins or so of her being born.

My Mom won't back down. She insists she gets adopted out. I was so scared. I couldn't believe the amount of love that I felt for my baby girl. My aunt had this couple come out to the hospital to meet me. I was told by them and my aunt that I would be able to get pictures of her growing up. Also that she would know that I loved her. I don't believe my Mom believed me about rape, because she never tried to find out who did it.

They didn't keep their word. I have two pictures. I wasn't educated on adoption. I didn't know what an adoption agency was or what open or closed adoptions meant. All I knew that after 24 hours, my daughter was taken from me. I did have a social worker trying to console me but never did she offer any real help or options. My Mom and my whole family stayed away during the 24 hours that I was my child's Mom. I was taken to the courthouse to sign the TPR"s (Termination of Parental Rights) in front of a judge. I never had felt so much pain. It broke my heart and it hasn't healed. Everything went on as normal. I didn't have anyone that I really could talk to. My family never mentioned my daughter again. It was if she was never born. Nothing changed. I was still my Mom's babysitter. Shortly, after my daughter was born, my aunt offered us to live with her. I was very alone. I cried often. I couldn't listen to music. I was very sick. I went to the hospital at least once a month for pain. A year later, we found out I had gall stones.

In dec of 1991, my Mom let me get a cat and she was all that I had. The adoptive parents didn't keep their word and moved as soon as the adoption was final. Whenever I would ask my aunt to try and get pictures, I was always made to feel bad as if I was causing them trouble. I pretty much just learned not to ask. I cried often that first year while living with my aunt and uncle, but I was yelled at a lot. I was told your'e causing trouble. I fell into a pattern of not telling anyone that I had a child. It's become something that I carry as a dark secret of mine. I would try to talk about it, but was always shut down with a negative comment. So, I didn't take my chances anymore. I spent her first half of her life not even talking about her to anyone.

I married at 18 and even though he knew about her, she was never even talked about. When the attacks happened on 9/11 I started thinking about my daughter so much more. It was and still is a big reminder of her birthday. Her birthday's have always been hard, but lately they are filled with so much painful anguish. Some birthdays I drink just to bring the tears. It's so scary to let them fall, because I am afraid of crying. It's not an odd thing for me to cry for hours and hours on her birthday.

A couple years ago, I found my daughter's family living in the same town as me. I was shocked. I wrote them a letter and nothing. Six months later, I wrote them a letter and nothing. When I think about all the lies and how they had a chance to make it right with me and ignored me it really makes me sad. It makes me feel that I am a bad person. I am a person that can't be trusted. They can't trust that I would do right by my daughter. To be deprived of at least seeing pictures of my daughter and hearing how she is doing has really down something so deep inside that words can't explain it. To be deprived of hearing how they learned to read, ride a bike and just know that she was happy kills me. I had to live with all this distrust and wondering what did I do wrong. What was wrong with me? I wasn't asking for the world. I just wanted to see what she looked like and to hang a picture on the wall. I was able to find a picture of my daughter in the yearbooks at the local library and while I loved seeing how she looked. It did something to my ego. It made me feel like crap. If I wanted to show people of my daughter, I had to show them a photocopy picture of her. I carried those pictures around for about two years. I looked at them everyday. About a month ago, I threw those pictures away because I found my daughter on a social network and we have been talking through the site. It's opened up a whole set of emotions that I wasn't prepared for. I can know show my daughter's real picture off, but the deep feeling of not being worthy enough is still there.

To anyone considering adoption or have already adopted please remember my story. Know that you're dealing with an ethical lawyer or adoption agency and know that your child's birthmother is a real person. No one chooses adoption because they don't love or care for their children. They do it out of love and sometimes they are left without options. Please honor them and remember that they love "your, their" child as much as you.