Thousand Acre Heart-Part 12
I am eating cookies in bed, that is how my day went. After a long day I was relaxing and chatting with Kirk online (he is up North in Kearl Lake). We were both in a playful mood, our conversation was very fun and flirty until Morgan informed me that the coldroom and laundry room was flooded. Instant buzz kill. It was pretty tense here for awhile but equipped with Kirks snowmobile boots, a fire poker 40 soaking towells and my phone (for frantically texting Kirk) I managed to fix the pump and twart any further disaster. I am not happy about the mess but on the bright side, because of the floor drain in the laundry room the main rec room area was not affected and being forced to clean out the cold room is a good thing. See Kirk I am not even going to mention who filled the cold room with unnecessary crap!!
So to continue where I left you I frantically called Kirk and told him to get there fast and then I called my Mom. Dr Clague said they would induce me at 5:30. Between 5:30 and 6:30 nothing was happening. We were all just joking around with the nurses. At 6:30 I started to feel a significant amount of discomfort and got quiet immediately. I threw up in the bathroom which was a sure sign of hard labour. When the contactions began they were one on top of another. In the same fashion as my other pregnancies I went from zero to sixty in minutes. I guess Kirk mistook my sudden silence for boredom because he said to the nurse “when does labor start?” I was breathing mid contraction and looked at the nurse wide-eyed as if to say “is he friggin kidding me?
The nurse asked Kirk if there was somewhere he needed to be. Poor Kirk had missed Morgans birth so he really just didn’t know what to expect. All he had really seen of actual labour was exaggerated on tv and in movies.
He was great at keeping cold wash clothes on my forehead. It was unbearably warm and trying to keep me cool was a full time job for Mom and Kirk. I started pushing shortly after seven. I was expecting Haley to come into the world in a few pushes. I was getting the regular encouragement “she’s right there, we see her head, she’s coming” I was pushing for everything I was worth. Let’s just say if pushing were an Olympic sport I was going for gold. I thought that Kirk should go to the other side of the room prepared to catch. I pictured her flying across the room like a football.
I recall the doctor saying something about her being stuck. I remember thinking WTF does that mean? I wanted to ask but could barely muster a breath between contractions let alone a question. Turns out her umbilical chord was wrapped around her neck. Once removed she made a speedy entry into our world! Haley Jade Catherine DeBay was born @ 7:45 pm on April 29, 2004.
She was healthy but earlier then the doctors had originally thought and in a certain amount of distress from me pushing with a chord wrapped around her. She was creamy white…full of vermix. She looked like someone had slathered her up with cold cream. She had a headful of dark curls and a beautiful button nose.
Our first picture with her she is in an incubator. I felt completly different about her then I had with Morgan and Jeffrey initially. I felt very protective, I guess that is definitely a parental trait but it lacked that warm and fuzzy feeling because I so badly wanted to make her strong enough to bring her home. I am sure anyone who has ever had a preemie has felt this on a much larger scale. Her first month, even after bringing her home she was so sleepy I had to wake her for feedings and coax her to feed. It felt like a job. She didn’t look at me, she didn’t brighten at the sound of my voice. I silently worried a lot about not bonding with her the way I did Morgan. After the first four weeks once I chubbed her up and she became more alert things changed instantly. She has been an ongoing joy!
I always felt very differently about my girls. Morgan in glorious teenhood likes to say we love Haley more, we always take her side. Truth is I love Haley differently then I do Morgan. She has always been smart and fiercely independent. She has a very analytical mind like her Dad. Morgan is softer, led more by her heart. As smart as she is I worry about her being led astray by her caring and trusting ways. I want her to know how beautiful she is. I want her know that she is smart and that she can be anything she wants. I want her to know that SHE is the person to impress and please. I want her not to seek validation from friends and boys. I want her to pat herself on the back for a job well done and when she fails I want her to have the strength to get back up and try again. Haley at 9 has these tools. She hasn’t let the world beat her down. She told me one day that she will never be able to please everyone but she is happy being herself. Jeffrey and Morgan are a lot alike. They know what they want and they can dream a life for themselves but sometimes overlook the harsh realities that can get in the way of those dreams. Dreams take hard work to make them happen! I heard a saying recently about a mothers constant challenge “the right mix of kindness and dicipline” I think all of my children will agree that I can be a good and fun friend but I will never sugar coat the realties of life!! Life is hard. Prepare!!
This is short and I apologize. I am catching up from a whirlwind visit with my family in Nova Scotia and my new granddaughter. Sometimes I still have to pinch myself to see if it is all real.
P.S for those of you twitterbugs, follow @1000acreheart
Thanks for dropping by, be back soon. I will leave you with a sneak peek of beautiful Gracie. ♥
Thousand Acre Heart -Part 11
I have always liked to write and always said I would love to write a novel if I had the time. In fact I still have a couple manuscripts in the works that have been lying around in binders and boxes collecting dust for many years. You would think that being in the hospital for months on end would have afforded me the time to write something meaningful but inspiration was sorely lacking! I did write letters though. Even though I saw Kirk often sometimes I would write him letters and send them in the mail, handwritten letters were so retro, even back then! I thought it would be fun for him to reach in the mailbox and get something other then a bill. They were ridiculous letters just meant to be funny and I would even address them in unusual ways. I came across one recently in a box of pictures. It was addressed to Mr Craven Moorehead. Some of you won’t get that and some of you will get it and not be amused. Judge if you will but I can assure that if you spent as much time on your back staring at four walls as I did you would do anything for a laugh. Anyways the letter in question was largely about “Nipplegate” otherwise known as Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction. Obviously a cheap publicity stunt because when Janet Jackson stopped flashing her nipples she abruptly disappeared from pop culture. Besides the occasional mention in a rag mag about her weight gain or loss, no nipple…no mention! The letter was dated February of 2004 right after the incident at Superbowl. In the letter I confessed to my own unfortunate wardrobe malfunction where my hospital gown slipped off the shoulder exposing my nipple to a young , wide eyed intern. I then preceded to tell “Craven” that after my initial embarrassment about the incident I decided to use my nipples to my discreet advantage and began flashing the man that delivered my breakfast in hopes to get an extra sausage the next day! This of course is not true…..well maybe it is, you will never know. “Evil laugh”
So as much as I recall I hadn’t completely lost it by Superbowl of 2004 but there was still plenty of time and wall staring to come. I did what I was told which consisted largely of doing nothing. I even tried to spend less time in the washroom when Kirk was around so that he and the doctors would not conspire to put a catheter in me. The nurses desk was outside of my room to the left. It was always a flurry of activity but even with my door open I couldn’t see what was going on. Every Monday I got to go on a big excursion to get weighed. The weigh room was directly across the hall and I was wheeled on a wheel chair, weighed and wheeled back! Do not turn left our right, do not pass anything fun, do not collect any smiles. Back to bed.
The nurses were at times my saviors. I would get pretty attached to the good ones and there were some that would come and sit with me for a couple of minutes at night, as there time would allow and just chat. Nights were the hardest, not tucking Morgan into bed, not curling up with Kirk. The nurses worked on rotation of course so when they were sent to another floor or wing it could be crushing. I guess I got used to the consistency of my hospital routine but I never got used to the people that came and went out of my life on a weekly basis. I have a profound respect for “some” of the doctors that treated me during my stay but I have to say that some of the nurses went way beyond the scope of their work by understanding how hard it was to be cooped up in a little room away from your family and treating me with such kindness and love.
One morning I was so excited because there was a craft program in the family room that I was invited to with the other ladies on my floor. I am not super crafty but I was looking forward to the social aspect (for my sanity) I was all ready to go at the designated time. I think I even put on lip gloss. The doctors came for their morning visit and delicately told me that the nurse had made a mistake and I wasn’t allowed to go to the craft program because I was not allowed to leave my room and sit up for any length of time. I know I tried to hide it but I was thoroughly devastated. It was like being 14 and getting grounded before the big dance that your crush was going to and being certain your best friend was going to dance with him. That kind of angst. My nurse for the week quietly felt my pain and she brought a lady on my floor who was in a less precarious position then me and able to wander the halls periodically to visit me. It was nice to be able to connect with someone else in a similar position. The lady who came to visit me was pregnant with twins. She lived in Cape Breton with her husband and three young girls under the age of seven. They owned a video store in their small town. Because of the distance and the fact that they were trying to keep a small business afloat her family could only visit on weekends. I couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be for her to be away from all her family and then to have the whole crew come visit and be cooped up in her little room. I think we were able to offer each other some comfort and understanding and I thank that wonderful nurse for recognizing my need to have some socialization. I never saw the woman again but I questioned my cleaning lady and found out that she had been put on complete bed rest as well. One morning the doctors only detected one heartbeat and during an ultrasound confirmed that one of her babies did not make it. She had to continue to carry both babies as long as possible and ended up delivering an early but healthy baby boy to the delight of his three big sisters.
My family and friends were fantastic and Kirk and Morgan still stayed with me as much as possible. Kirk tried his very best but I was grumpy and irritable when he was around. Looking back I had no control over anything and truthfully he probably felt much of the same thing. It drove me crazy that Morgan would come to the hospital with a big bag of candy from the Candy Bowl bulk store. She thought Daddy was the best and I thought that was complete idiocy. Lets take a four year old child, hop her up on sugar and stick her in a tiny room with a mother who cannot leave the room. There was a definite rift between us but I believed that when things went back to normal we would get better.
One night I was going crazy and Kirk tried to convince the nurse to allow him and Morgan to take me for a walk in a wheelchair around the hospital. I was only a couple of days away from self care so I didn’t think it would be an issue. Self care was in another wing of the hospital and it allowed for a lot more freedom. Moving to self care meant I had reached a point in my pregnancy that if I delivered the baby was not in any significant danger. I believe it was 36 weeks. It was still too early for me to go back to Truro because they were not equip to deal with a pregnancy that early. Anyways the nurse said “No way” and Kirk felt really bad. I asked him to take Morgan out for a bit, they had been cooped up in my stupid room all weekend and we all needed a breather. The minute they left I called my Mom and lost it. I cried my eyes out and told her I was going crazy. She assured me I wasn’t and I assured her I was. Mom calmed me down and even had me laughing and in a much better frame of mind by the time Morgan and Kirk returned.
I moved to Self care right before Easter and was allowed a certain amount of freedom which to my Mothers dismay I immediately took advantage of. Kirk allowed me to come to Walmart with him to help pick up some Easter stuff for Morgan. It was supposed to be a quick trip but I begged him to take me home. There was no reasoning with me, I wanted to see my house so Kirk made the hour long trip to take me home. He was pretty pissed when he found me in the bathroom with my big pregnant belly hunched over the tub scrubbing the dripping hard water stain under the spout with an SOS pad. I had already cleaned the toilet with bleach and was about to put in a load of laundry when he discovered me. He convinced me to halt the housecleaning and come lay down for a minute. He held me in our bed while I cried because I didn’t want to go back to the hospital. I had been away from home for over 3 months and all I wanted to do was tidy up and prepare for Haley coming home. Kirk comforted me and it was probably the warmest most honest interaction we had had in months. Somehow he convinced me to go back to the hospital, I recall a phone call from my Mom so it is possible that he enlisted help. I could see the light at the end of the tunnel though and that was positive. Self care was not as exciting as I anticipated. All those exciting interactions I had heard from my bedroom on the other wing of the seventh floor were certainly not happening over here. There must have been a lot of vacancy because when I was out wandering the halls it was about as exciting as a non alcoholic beer on a hot July day! Blah!
At 38 weeks pregnant they allowed me to go back to Truro but I wasn’t allowed to go to our house in North River because it was too far from the hospital. We stayed at my Moms but it was short lived. I think I had four days of freedom before Kirk dragged me into the Truro hospital. I was having headaches and swelling and according to the Doctor my blood pressure was on the rise. I tried to insist that my rising blood pressure was due to being in another hospital but as if I didn’t exist Kirk and the doctor discussed my immediate admission to the Truro hospital for the remainder of my pregnancy. I was admitted and put into a ward with two laboring mothers. I had been told to take it easy and get some rest and then I was put in a ward?? I assume Kirk spoke with the doctor who exchanged heated words with the nurse and in a flash I was moved to a private room.
Prior to my stay in the Truro Hospital whenever there was talk about the “NEW” Hospital being built I would question why one was needed. It only took me a short time to understand. The Grace Hospital was like The Four Seasons in Comparison. My blinds were broken, my bathroom door didn’t close properly, cream of wheat for breakfast almost sent me over the edge and the nurse seemed to only make a visit just as I drifted off to sleep.
On Thursday April 29, 2004 Morgan and Kirk were in and out of my hospital room. He had bought her new sneakers and a soccer ball and they had played a bit on the hospital lawn. Played out, she gave me a big kiss goodbye and Kirk took her to the sitters because he had a doctors appointment. I hadn’t seen the doctor all day and he popped in the door at 4:45 and said five magical words “Wanna have a baby today?
To be continued……
A Thousand Acre Heart -Part Two
…and spring became the summer
It was a typical hot and humid Nova Scotia summer. Nobody was more thrilled then me that the school year was over. It was hard to go to school every day and feel like everyone was staring at you, either because they felt bad for me but didn’t know what to say or because they had lots to say but none of it was mature or worth listening too!
My Dad had had some recurring heart problems and I remember he was in the hospital after suffering an attack. My Dad had a great personality and people couldn’t help but being taken in by his charm, the nurses included, but even they were not impressed when he was having his visitors sneak him in KFC and Pizza. My Dad had been diagnosed with Angina. Angina is an indicator that your heart is not getting all the oxygen it needs to keep working at its optimal level. People who have angina are at an increased risk of having a heart attack. So in short my Dad should not have been eating Pizza and KFC. He did if I recall correctly make some changes after his stay in the hospital, at least for awhile. He owned an Auto Body shop beside our house but he wasn’t supposed to be working and he wasn’t allowed to drive his motorbike, which he loved to do in the nice weather. I can remember him pacing around the house just lost. He wasn’t used to not working and his number one hobby was being forbidden. As I said the changes were temporary but there were other more subtle changes as the hot summer forged ahead. He really was interested in what we were doing, wanted to spend lots of time with us and have long talks. I recall wanting a drive to a friend’s but he really wanted to spend time with me and offered to take me shopping. My dad was a unique shopper, so unlike my Mom and me, he didn’t look at price tags. If he liked something he bought it. He didn’t compare shop or look for sales. He also liked to carry lots of cash with him. This didn’t mean we had lots of money; it just meant there was very little in the bank and a lot in my Dads pocket! Well I lucked out that day I got a couple of new outfits and a 12 speed bike. I felt at the time that there was some guilt involved. It was his way of saying, “I know you are hurting, I don’t know what to say to make it better so I am going to buy you stuff!” Regardless the sentiment was appreciated and I completely understood that he didn’t know what to say to me. My mom tried to talk to me often, I am not sure how much was ever said between us we just cried and hugged a lot. Sometimes there really are no words but knowing that someone cares enough to share in your pain and just be there is more than enough. My mom was my best friend. She married at fifteen years old and had three kids back to back. She never ever complained about her life or said it was hard. She always made motherhood look effortless. I always felt so bad because I knew she wanted more for me and she felt she failed but I know it was I that failed her. She talked to me about boys and sex. She tried to be involved and always told me to come to her if I needed anything. I am the one that shut her out. I met the guy that made me weak at the knees and I made a bad decision on a hot summer’s day in August and now one year later I was silently suffering the consequences.
We were planning a surprise party for my dad and his best friend because they were both turning 40 that year on September 4. The BIG 40!! I probably thought that was old and I am going to turn 40 on my next birthday. It was exciting to try to keep a secret from my Dad. He loved parties and he was such a big kid. He was always the first one up at Christmas; (five a.m. most years), and he LOVED presents.
It was late August and I had met a guy that summer that I was crazy about! He was a friend’s older brother and he was sweet and mature and I was very much absorbed in thoughts of him. It certainly gave me something else to focus on. I thought about him all of the time but I really didn’t have the guts to tell him. I guess I eventually took that 20 second leap of courage (if any of you have seen We bought a Zoo you know what I am talking about) It probably went something like this “Hey I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number so call me maybe?” Of course it really didn’t go like that; Carly Rae has dibs on that one. Actually while I was typing that groan joke I recalled how it really went. We were hanging out at my friend’s house (as I mentioned “he” was her older brother) and she and her boyfriend wanted to take a drive to the beach so we tagged along. Ahhh the good ole days in Nova Scotia when you just decide to drive to the beach and you get in your car and drive to the beach!! It was after dark and I recall I had to pee all the way to Brule. For those of you who know the drive from Truro to Brule and know how I am when I have to pee you are probably thankful that you were not along for that ride. We got to the beach and I was able to pee in the dark in those stinky outhouses. So once I have peed I start to realize what a crazy romantic scene this is. Moonlit beach, warm summers night, it is a scene from a Bryan Adams music video!! Now I am panicked so I just run into the water and keep walking out nonchalantly as far as I can till I realize that I am a long way from shore and I don’t know which way is back to the shore and which way was further out into the water. I have a helpless sense of direction to begin with and you would think I would know from the direction of the moonlight but the sky was very dimly lit at that point. I just turned around in circles for a minute or so until I realized that the object of my adoring affection had come to find me. I can’t recall the exact details but we shared a very sweet first kiss under the very dimly lit summer sky at Brule Beach. I went home that night and for the first time in a long time I felt like a normal teenage girl.
Morning came as it always does bright and early. It was August 21, 1990. My dad had called me a couple of times to ask me to make coffee for him and the guys at the shop. I was already on the phone with my guy and was just having a hard time getting down the stairs to do it. I finally made it when I got another call to please hurry and bring the coffee out. All this time I am talking to my cute guy on our “kids” phone line upstairs and running back and forth to answer the house phone. My Dad’s shop was right beside our house so I put on some flip flops, grabbed the pot of coffee and went out the front door. There was an Ambulance in the yard. At first it didn’t occur to me to be alarmed because my Dad owned an Auto Body shop so it wasn’t unusual to see smashed cop cars etc in the yard. Then I realized there seemed to be some confusion and I feel like I am outside of my body staring at me with my feet glued to the ground holding a damn pot of coffee. My brothers are yelling at me to stay there as they jump in Mike’s car and follow the ambulance. My uncle follows them in his car. By the time I realize that my Dad is in the ambulance and that my brothers told me to call my Mom at work it was just me and a new guy in the shop yard. I kept telling him he had to drive me to my Moms work and he kept saying they told him to stay there. At some point I made him realize that he was not going to lose his job and we had to get moving. My Mom worked at a corner store that was along the way to the hospital. It had a drive-thru attached and when I got there all she knew is that my brothers were following the ambulance to the hospital and she was to meet them there. The owner was at the store but didn’t know how to work the till so my Mom was expected to stay until his wife got there and she was on her way. I will never ever forget in my whole life how my Mom was trying to wait on customers not knowing what was happening to her husband. This one lady came in and she was as bright as the sunshine and she said to my mom “It is a beautiful day!” My mom struggled to hold back tears and I decided enough. I told her boss to wing it and we left.
At the hospital they took us to a private room, they explained that they had the best team working on my dad. It seemed like an eternity passed and for some reason we were separated. Maybe by choice I am not entirely sure. At some point a nurse told me that they had done everything they could. She kept looking at me with this really idiotic grin and I had no idea what she was trying to say to me but she was going to help me find my Mom and brothers so I followed her and she kept looking at me with that ridiculous smile. I hated her. I really really hated her. Have you ever felt like everything was moving in slow motion but so fast you couldn’t catch up! It was a beautiful sunny day, August 21, 1990 when they told me I was never going to see my Dad again. My warm and wonderful mother was a widow with three teenaged kids at thirty two years old.
Life wasn’t fair or just and it wasn’t going to be OK for a very long time.
To be continued…..
Thanks to my friend Amanda for this, I had to share
Legacy of an Adopted Child
Once there were two women who never knew each other..
One you do not remember, the other you call mother.
Two different lives, shaped to make Your one…
One became your guiding star, the other became your sun.
The first gave you life and the second taught you to live it.
The first gave you a need for love, and the second was there to give it.
One gave you a nationality, the other gave you a name.
One gave you a seed of talent, the other gave you an aim.
One gave you emotions, the other calmed your fears.
One saw your first sweet smile, the other dried your tears.
One gave you up … that’s all she could do.
The other prayed for a child and God led her straight to you.
And now you ask me, through your fears,
the age old question unanswered throughout the years…
Heredity or environment .. Which are you the product of..
Neither, my darling .. neither..
just two different kinds of love.
A thousand acre heart
This is a story that I think I should tell because very few people know the whole thing and when it is told in bits and pieces I always feel that so much is left out. I will begin to tell it slowly and at my pace. I will try to tell it the best I remember it and it is not my intention to hurt anyone’s feelings.
“I always knew there was a piece of the puzzle missing, I never imagined what it was”
Jeffrey “Jam” Matthews
I got bored of cleaning out the 5000 useless emails in my hotmail so I decided to check in with some random and hopefully inspirational thoughts that will have us all seeing clearly once the rain is gone, and by rain I mean tears, yes I stole the first part from Van Morrison.
I have been sitting at my computer attending a GoToMeeting to see my first grandchild’s Ultrasound at 3D Miracles. I am in Edmonton, Alberta, the other family and friends are in Truro, Onslow, Tatamagouche and Pictou Counties in Nova Scotia. My grandbabes Mom is at 3D Miracles in Halifax, Nova Scotia. In itself this is amazing that technology can bring us together for this special time. We are able to chat and share our feelings. Right now we are on a 45 minute “Yoga Break” because baby is playing camera shy. I am not quite sure where in the family the shyness comes into play!
I am taking this time to reflect on the miracles that have changed my life and brought me to this day that I am so fortunate and incredibly grateful to be a part of.
In April my first grandchild is due to come into our world full of love. Almost twenty three years ago I gave birth to her father Jeremy at the Colchester Regional Hospital. I was sixteen years old, a child myself really. I was scared, confused and full of such conflicting emotions. I gave birth to a healthy eight pound, magnificent baby boy. He had dark hair and these eyes that looked at me with what I was certain was the hint of a smile. The plan for lack of a better term was to give him the very best life possible and even at sixteen I was pretty certain that love alone could not provide that and my options were limited. I was a child, discussions were had, and choices were made and with a heavy heart I went along with some amount of certainty with what I was told were best. Anyone that has given birth to a child knows that something changes inside of you the very moment they come into this world. It is powerful and indescribable but even in tender teen hood I felt it. I felt a connection that time and miles and tears would never take away. I was giving my baby boy up for adoption. He was going to be raised by a couple that had longed for a baby and had more to give him then I possibly could. When I was finally alone in my hospital room I cannot even begin to tell you the emotions I experienced. In a very short time I had crossed that line between girlhood and womanhood and I was not ready for any of the hard choices or the heartache that would bring. My father came back to the hospital a short while later. The birth of his first grandchild had moved him immensely. He said we would do whatever needed to be done. He said he would go right out and buy a crib and diapers and whatever was needed he would help. When he left I was more confused than ever and my older brother came back to the hospital to talk to me. He would have been eighteen at the time. He was always a bit of an authority figure to me, he was smart and organized, and he wasn’t as lead by emotions as the rest of us. He talked to me that night with the soul and wisdom of someone much older than his eighteen years. He talked to me about the family that had been waiting for years to love my child. He talked about how I was too young to make grown up decisions and that he just wanted me to see my options from all angles. He is the only person throughout my whole pregnancy that really discussed options with me and talked to me like the decisions were in my hands but I needed to understand how my decisions were going to affect everyone involved. He didn’t know the couple that was going to adopt Jeremy. We all just knew about them, through lawyers. It still amazes me how he pleaded their case. He said he had seen the movie Kramer vs Kramer in Law class at school and it moved him. I have never seen the movie. I had a torturous night. I remember very little of it except for the feeling of a huge weight on my chest. In the morning I told my family that I hadn’t changed my mind, I was going to give Jeremy up for adoption and allow the family that was expecting him to love him and give him a wonderful life.
It’s not as easy as it sounds. You go home to return to your normal life and nothing is normal. Your friends want to talk about boys and clothes and everyday adolescent stuff but you are now a grown-up. They want to talk about broken hearts and you know that they have absolutely no idea what it feels like to be truly heartbroken.
The law says that a minimum of sixteen days needs to pass before you can legally be approached with respect to signing adoption papers. It felt like a year and a day all at the same time, which of course makes absolutely no sense but nothing would make sense for a very long time. On the sixteenth day when the lawyer called I was sick. I was the kind of sick when you call into work on inventory day…avoidance. I was also heartsick. If I had had the capacity to question I am sure everyone in my household was experiencing a type of loss as well. They were there for the growing belly, to feel the kicks and anticipate the birth and then at the part where you are expecting kisses and cuddles and late night feedings it was as if the universe had stalled and life as you knew it was paused. I am not sure how many more days passed but when my lawyer came to the house I tried another stall tactic and she understood quite clearly what was going on. She didn’t push me but explained that until I signed the papers that Jeremy was living in interim care. He was being well taken care of but the family that longed to hold him and love him could not take him home until I signed the papers. I must have signed the papers that day. I can’t imagine what my signature looked like. I was a mess inside. I wasn’t eating and my clothes were falling off me. I was a woman, making woman’s decisions in this childlike body.
Insert sex lecture here, sex is an adult decision made by people who are not ready to make adult decisions and lead adult lives. Of course I wouldn’t change any of it now, because to change one thing would change everything but if I could help one person to realize that as a teenager you are seeking affection, validation, acceptance and love. Sex will not give you any of those things. Sex will complicate.
At some point life went back to normal or at least I began to accept the new life. I accepted the mean comments at school from girls “How is your baby, oh never mind you gave him away!” One day in English class a girl named “Dawn” ( I won’t say her last name only for respect for her family’s privacy,),said to me “You are no better than me, I went through labor and delivery just like you!” The difference is she had an abortion that was performed at or after five months. So yes she did indeed go through labor and delivery but she did not give life to a child. I don’t know her reasons and I don’t care, I remember how badly that hurt me and how I went into survival mode. I had to adamantly remind myself that I gave my baby the opportunity to have a wonderful life and nobody could ever take that away from me.
For years wherever I was I would see a dark haired boy and I would calculate the age in my head and wonder. I was fairly certain I would know right away if I ever came face to face with him but I never knew how I would react…..