I understand both points in this conversation, but I also agree, until further information stating otherwise, that the birthmother is a victim too.
What I want to address... well share... is my story of adoption- as a birthmother. I was 19 years old, came from a screwed up family myself and did not have the capabilities to care for a baby properly. I also did NOT want to bring a baby into my screwed up family (although I wasn't consciously aware of that motivation, at the time).
My family was Mormon, I was not- long story. I left the church officially when I was 15. I loved god and had a relationship with him, although situations from my childhood could have easily seen me turning my back on him- I'll leave it at that. My family knew I had strong feelings about the church.
I knew the moment I found out I was pregnant that I was going to give the baby up. I didn't want an abortion personally, but had no judgememnt towards anyone who made that choice- it just wasn't right for me.
My family tried to trick me and set me up with a Mormon adoption attorney giving the baby potentially to only Mormon families. I was furious. My mom found a different attorney. I was able to look through files and found a prospective family. On the way to meet them I asked God to help me... I knew people could be a certain way, for my benefit, and the benefit of wanting my baby- that was how I thought of it- in my underdeveloped, 19 year old head.
In a strange stroke of luck, the adoptive father was unable to make the meeting due to an emergency business situation so I met the mother alone. She told me all about her family history... of problems conceiving and how bad she felt as a woman and for her husband (they both desperately wanted a family) and how she even thought about leaving so he could find someone else to have a chance at a family. She was candid, likeable, kind and wanted nothing more then to be a mother. She had a good heart and was a good soul- we talked for hours. The next meeting when I met them together I instantly liked the husband and could see the love and devotion they had for each other- there is a lot more I could share about the meeting, but I wish to keep it private. I knew then, that I had chosen well. I wanted my baby to have a better life... it wasn't just the fact that I was young.
I moved back home for the last several months of my pregnancy so my mom could help me through. She had demanded I have an abortion when she first found out- that is another long story. I enjoyed being pregnant, had no swelling or morning sickness and was healthy and felt good. I knew I was doing the right thing- always- and just wanted my baby to be raised in a normal, loving, two parent household.
I was offered by the adoptive parents to have an open adoption but I declined. I did not know how I would react in the coming years, if I would freak out or something and in my mind he was thiers. I was bringing him into the world... but he was their baby... their child.
I had no idea how I was going to feel the moment I saw him. No one can know that, in advance, no matter how solid you are in your plan. Birthing a baby defies all logic... it becomes primal for some (not all, as we know here by the plethora of these cases). I was in labor for a LONG time- in retrospect I think my body, on a cellular level, knew the moment he was born he was going to be taken from me, maybe psychologically, and it held on for dear life. When my eyes locked with his- I fell in love with him- he was a part of me like I never understood before. I loved him.
I stayed on the 11th floor of the hospital and was able to go to the maternity ward to visit him in a private room- if I wanted to. I just mostly looked at him thorugh the nursery window however my heart was broken- I wanted him... but I knew better. I knew he had a chance with M and P... he was going to be loved and have a normal life. I was torn.
The next day I was to go home, but he would stay in the hospital one more day. I was heartbroken and terrified. The morning I was leaving I went to the ward and the nurses brought him to a private room for me. My granny and sister were with me and they started crying and falling apart. I asked them to leave. I was devastated. I prayed to god to help me... help me do what was right for HIM. I held my sweet, baby boy in my arms and lay on the bed with him, I listened to him breath, watched him sleep and told him why I was doing what I was doing- that I loved him. I fell asleep next to him for awhile and when I awoke I was completely at peace. I felt nothing but love and peace... that is all I can say- God had answered my prayer. I kissed him and gave him back to the nurses and left for my room and to get my things.
My mother was in my room when I got there and she was freaking out. She was crying, saying it was a mistake and we were going to get my son and take him to Mexico- if we had to. We didn't have to- I had six months by California laws to change my mind- but I was NEVER going to do that. Someone had already done that to M and P, she told me the story at our fist meeting without P... it was heartbreaking but on that day, I told her if I chose her... I would NEVER do that to her and I kept my word.
There is a bond, something unexplainable, something I could not predict as a teenager, but I loved my baby and grieved his loss for many years to come. I didn't know how I was going to love him, how my whole being would miss him and ache for him. How it is not natural to just hand away a baby you have carried and are connected to. I was able to overcome all of it- because of the power of my comitment to him, and to the family I promised him too, but it nearly killed my spirit. I had to shove a part of me away... deep, deep away. I am human, I have a heart with love to give- M and P were no better than me, nor worthy of a baby per se. It was the timing and circumstance, but I had love to give and could have tried to make a life for us. I kept my word, I stuck to my promise but it nearly broke me apart.
Today I am a terrific mother, and my children are the loves of my life... I am better prepared now, and that is a very good thing but I am human, and the loss of my baby never left me. EVER.
I can say today (my kids are 10, 13 and 15) that I love the baby I gave away the same, and equal to the children I am raising. I can say that the love i have felt for him all of these years- in his absense is no different.
Maybe everyone can have some compassion for that. It is a mothers love. My heart breaks for all of the victims in this case- so far- the 16 year old birth mother, included.
I hope maybe others can have compassion for the other side of it. A young mother is unable to predict how she will feel, it is not something anyone with inexperience can theorize.
Thanks for listening!
