When I was 15, I got pregnant. I was still on birth control, still getting my periods, and had taken a bunch of at home pregnancy tests. They were all negative. It was like that bad show on TV about people not knowing they were pregnant until they gave birth.
I was 6 months pregnant when I had my first positive pregnancy test, and my first ultrasound.
Within the next few days I decided adoption was going to be my choice. My mom and I started searching for perspective parents on adoption websites.
Then she found them, my son’s moms. After the first phone call I knew it was meant to be. They came to visit shortly after, and we hit it off instantly.
Those few weeks were a whirlwind.
Practically speaking, a lot more goes into adoption than most people think. It was a lot of paperwork, first of all. Then we had to come up with specific terms (such as required visits, release of information, all of that stuff) for the adoption. We met with social workers, doctors, and each other as often as we could in the months before he arrived. Not to mention how rough the actual birthing process was. But not once did I think of not going through with it. All of the stress and anxiety faded away when I was with them, chatting about future names and looking at pictures of cribs and baby clothes. They made me feel like I was important. They still do.
We chose to have an open adoption and to be open with him, too. We didn’t want him to have to wonder who he looked like, why we didn’t keep him, or if we loved him. When he has questions about himself, his heritage, or just random questions about bugs or dogs or whatever his imagination can come up with (which is a lot) his Naunie is here for him.
We’ve become a family. A family of choice, as his momma often says.
We’re closer than anyone expected us to be and we like it that way. We’ve all grown together. We’ve spent many days doing nothing and talking about everything together. We have been through so much pain and joy as a family.
On Mothers Day he video called me to play a song on his harmonica and to say Happy Mothers Day. I chatted with both of his moms, we talked about what we were doing to celebrate, what we were up to, all of that good everyday stuff. He ran around the house with the phone showing me his toys and all the owl statues in the house. I get texts and voice messages from them. I get to see him grow. I’m included. He knows me, and loves me like I love him. I’m so lucky.
That’s why when someone asks me about adoption I tell them the truth. I talk about the hard times, the stress, and the worry. I talk about the joy of being a part of his life, and about being a part of this wonderful family. I don’t leave a single bit out.
I would love to be able to say that my story is a common one, but unfortunately it’s not. So I share with others, hoping my story inspires someone and changes their own someday.