Part 1-The Decisions: An Adoption Story

Becca here! My wonderful sister Paige, was brave enough to write about putting her son up for adoption. This is going to be a 3 part series that will be posted over the next 3 days. Thank you so much Paige for sharing this for the world to see, love you!

I have never put our story down in words.  It is something so sacred to me that I just never could.  How do you give your baby to someone else to raise?  Explaining this feels like trying to write a Ph.D. dissertation with a kindergarten vocabulary.  You can try, but it’s not going to be very good.  So here we go: 

Part I—The Decisions

I looked down at the little stick, knowing without a doubt in my mind that it would be negative.  It wasn’t.  Before any of the questions, fears, or doubts came, the first thing I remember feeling was love.  It was warm and all-encompassing, and peaceful.  I walked out of the bathroom, still holding the stick, with a stunned look on my face.  My roommate was standing right there; she took one look at me and grabbed the stick out of my hand.  Of all of the people on this planet, she was who I needed right then—the perfect blend of “Oh my gosh, you’re having a baby!!!” and “Oh my gosh, what the heck are you going to do!?!”  My boyfriend, B, was coming to pick me up for church, so we decided I would take another test and talk to him then if I needed to.  

I really don’t remember much about that day besides the initial lovey feelings, the fact that B was in a suit when I told him, and the anxiety as I procrastinated telling my parents.  I finally got up the nerve to call them around 11pm their time.  I called Daddy because I hoped he would react in a semi-supportive way, but he hung up on me and that was pretty jarring.  In retrospect, that was the right thing to do—he didn’t say anything hurtful with that initial surprise and disappointment—but at the time, it felt like a slap in the face.  

He and my mom called back the next day and we all talked about what to do.  Abortion was never an option.  Never.  B and I decided to get married, because that’s what you’re “supposed to” do.  I had already turned down two proposals from him before the pregnancy, I knew it wasn’t right, but now that there was a baby involved I was going to do it anyway because I wanted that baby.  By the time I went home for Christmas, there was no more denying it: marrying B was not what God wanted for my child and my life.  I still wanted to parent my baby though, so I announced that that’s what I was going to do.  My parents thought I should place the baby for adoption and dragged me to counseling and my church’s social services counselor over break.  I was prideful and I didn’t hear a word of it.  “Some girls have a hard time as a single 19 year-old mom, but that’s not me.”  “I can do this by myself, I don’t need a man,” were my thoughts.  I made plans to move back home until I had the baby to get a little space from B. 

This part, I have the hardest time explaining: over the next two weeks, my heart changed.  Words don’t exist for what I felt.  I can’t tell you a specific thought or experience or even day when it all changed because it wasn’t a conscious decision.  It was literally my heart did a super slow 180 and, instead of wanting what I wanted for us, I wanted what Heavenly Father wanted for us: adoption.  Never for one second from then until now have I liked that that’s what God wanted.  That was never and still isn’t what I want.  But more than I want what I want, I want what He wants, especially for the precious little person that was growing inside of me and was now my responsibility.

When I got home, I met with the counselor and got started finding my sweetheart’s family.  I wanted everything for him.  Most important, I wanted an open adoption.  That wasn’t done then, so I knew that was going to be tricky.  I trusted God though that if He was going to require this sacrifice, He would make a way for me to watch my baby grow up.  I wanted him to have siblings, I wanted them to be in the South so I could see him sometimes, and I wanted him to have a mom home with him like my mom was.  There were a hundred other things, but those were my biggies.  I found his family relatively early in my search, but they didn’t live in the South, so I put their names on my “maybe” list.  They had a little boy already, and from reading their profile I felt like they really loved each other, the kind of love I wanted modeled for my child.  I found three or four other profiles that had everything I wanted, so I took those in to the agency and asked them to e-mail them and ask about open adoption.

A week or two later, I had an ultrasound and they printed off some pictures for me.  I think I even brought them to my appointment to show the social worker, I was so excited about my little!  There was one picture of his feet, a view from the bottom, which was especially sweet to me.  At the appointment, I was devastated to hear that none of my families were agreeable to an open adoption.  Seriously devastated.  Like I cried in the appointment.  I went home and started my search all over again.  I started with my “maybe” list, looking a little more in detail at those families.  His family, S and K, had a website with pictures for their older son’s birth mother and prospective parents to look at.  I opened the page and immediately got goosebumps.  The picture at the top of the page was S and K’s hands and their son’s feet in exactly the same position as the ultrasound picture of my baby.  I think I knew then that they were his family, so I kept looking at their pictures and falling in love with them.  I prayed and felt like that was confirmed, but I didn’t want to let myself admit it until I knew their feelings about open adoption.  The agency e-mailed them and they would consider it!!!  I was flooded with relief!  I had found them and that I was going to get everything that was important to me (K is from the South, so he might not live here, but he has a Southern mother and that is more than good enough for me).  We started communicating and even met once during the pregnancy.  K was such a source of comfort during that difficult time and I loved getting to know her and felt like she was the grown-up version of who I wanted to be.  I didn’t really get to know S well at the time, but from my interactions with him since, he reminds me of my Daddy.  That is literally the highest praise I could give to any man.  Placing your baby with another family to raise is the worst, but knowing S and K are his family makes it infinitely easier.