The definition of the word identity is "the fact of being who or what a person or thing is". Usually, the first identity that we learn about each other is our name. But, we are so much more than just our names, aren't we? What I have learned in my short, yet very long, 21 years of life, is that usually, people aren't ashamed of their first identity, their name. When we introduce ourselves, we lead with something along the lines of "Hi, I'm ______. Nice to meet you!" We take ownership of it. So, why then, are we ashamed of our other identities? We all have that one identity that we just keep locked up in the closet, or hidden under the bed. We feel a certain sense of shame about it. But we don’t have to. Everyone has got a past. Everyone has got a story. Yes, some identities may hurt, and some you may wish that you didn’t have. But you have to own it. Each and every single thing that you identify as, whether you are proud of it or try to hide it, has helped to shape you into the beautiful and incredible person you are. So, here is who I am.
I am a birth mom. I am a new wife. I am a step mom. I am a
daughter and a sister. I am a student studying physical therapy. I am a little
crazy and a little broken sometimes, but that’s okay because I think most of us
are. I have made mistakes, but I am not defined by my mistakes.
The best “mistake” I ever made was getting pregnant 2 years
ago, when I had just turned 19 days before. The birth father made it clear that
parenting was not an option, but other than that, the decision was mine to
make. I still laugh about that. I felt very alone in my pregnancy. Even though
I was in a relationship with the birth dad, lets call him Paul, I still felt
incredibly alone during my pregnancy. Paul and I had just moved to the very
center of Philadelphia so that he could go to school. I basically gave up
everything and followed him there so he could be my support system. I guess the
idea was better in my head than it ended up being in real life.
By early October of 2013, when I was just a few weeks
pregnant, I was feeling really alone and desperate for answers. I hadn’t told
anybody but Paul at this point, not even my parents. I was in a dark place and
just had no idea what to do. I didn’t have insurance, I didn’t have a doctor,
and I really couldn’t afford to be pregnant without those things. Since day 1,
I wanted the very best for my baby. I hoped that the best could be me, but
without the support from Paul, which he refused to give me, I knew I wasn’t
enough. That night, I just felt so stuck. I needed something to click, to make
sense. I just laid in bed thinking for hours. I needed some kind of sign for
what to do next.
I got my sign. Weeks before this day, I was scrolling
through Facebook and remembered seeing something that my cousin had posted. She
posted a link to a website and said that one of her coworkers was looking to
adopt, and she was helping him get the word out. I didn’t think anything of it
when I saw it at a quick first glance, I don’t even think I comprehended it. I
really never considered adoption until that exact moment, on October 1st,
2013, when I remembered what I had seen. I immediately called my cousin and
said “don’t worry, this isn’t about me, but I was wondering if you knew who
these people personally who are looking to adopt”. She told me she did, and
told me a little bit about their family and how great they are. So I spent a
long time looking through their website. It was now pretty late in the evening,
but I sent them an email telling then who I was and about my situation. I
prayed that they would contact me back somehow that evening, because honestly,
that was our last hope.
They did. Days later, they drove to Philly from their home
in Manhattan and sat with Paul and me in a local park for hours. It was the
most uncomfortable “first date” in the world at first, but it quickly became
very natural and I think we all fell in love with each other. After that day, I
felt relieved. I knew my child would be okay. I honestly had the thought of “wow,
I wish these guys were MY parents."
I think we all have moments in our life when we can
pinpoint a change. The moment I met the future adoptive parents, everything changed.
I didn’t feel so alone anymore. I was still terrified, but now of different
things, things that I could handle. That day, I stopped being an “I”. Now it
was a “we”.
My adoption story is far from perfect, and I feel sad about
it very often. But as often as I’m sad and hurt by it, I’m so incredibly grateful
for it. Before my son, I was lost. I let my mistakes and my pain define who I
was. I have learned so much from striving to be great for him. He is my
motivation, my courage, and the reason I’m a fighter now. One day, I’m going to
meet this beautiful boy that I created through more than just pictures. I will
be able to stand up before him, and tell him all that I am now because of him.
Now, I am strong. I have determination and drive. I am his
birth mom. I am a wife to the best husband I could have dreamed of, and a step
mom to a crazy but beautiful little girl. I am someone who has big dreams and
never gives up hope, even when it’s hard to find. These are my identities. The
good ones and the bad ones. This is who I am, and I’m proud of it.
My name
is Jackie and I'm a new blogger here at BirthMom Buds.
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