Dear Society

I did not want to place my child.  I did not want to give up my rights to be his mom.  

I had to.  I had to give my baby boy a father.  I had to give him the best life possible because he is an angel.


I am not a high school dropout.  I did not grow up having "daddy issues".  I am not worthless.

I had my Masters Degree in Elementary education when I placed my son.  I grew up with the most amazing dad in the world, which is why I wanted to give my child the same.  I am worthy of love and respect just like everyone else.

I did not place my son and walk away.  I did not make this decision because it was the easy way out.

The easy way out? I see my son, the love of my life, twice a year.  I hold him twice a year.  I kiss him twice a year.  I say "I love you" to him twice a year.  And I am considered one of the lucky ones!


It is an impossible choice. Do I regret it?  Never.


My impossible choice gave him more than I could have ever imagined.

 

What are We Called?

When I talk about my story with others, I say, "Hi, my name is Elsa, and I'm a birthmother."

Sometimes they don't know what that word means.  And I calmly explain that it means I had a child and placed that child for adoption rather than parent the child myself.  At that point, they get it.

I have a group on Facebook that I call the Birthparent Support Group.  I go to meetings that are called Birthmother Support Group meetings.  I also attend meetings with another group that includes birthparents, adoptive parents, and adoptees, which are called Three Strand meetings.  The vast majority of people who are there are birthmoms and we are called that.  No one has ever really raised an objection to it.

It wasn't until I got more into the birthmother community that I realized that some people have negative feelings towards the word "birthmother."  From what I can tell, this negative connotation happened more often in the past when placing a child for adoption was a hidden and shameful thing.  Some still don't like the name.

As a result, I've seen several alternative names come up: first mother, natural mother, and the ever adorable tummy mommy.

I don't mind the term birthmother or birthmom.  It seems to me to be an accurate description of myself.  But I can see how others might take it negatively or remember the negative connotations around it.  And I started wondering, is there another name that you like to use?  Is there something that fits you?

I want to make this clear: I do not believe there is a right or wrong opinion in this situation.  I believe you should choose the term you feel most comfortable with.  But the question came up in my mind and I wanted to know, which name do you prefer?

I hope you all are having a great weekend and hope to hear from you soon!

"Who is That?"

For any of us birth moms who receive pictures of our children it is hard to not want to show the whole world the amazing pictures that can help us get through a hard day. My phone screen saver has been my daughter since the day she was born and I know that it will most likely remain that way for a very long time. I don't think much of it because most often the person looking at my phone is me, so I never have to explain anything, and the friends who do look at my phone already know about my daughter.

The other day in one of my classes I was talking to a girl who I am casually friends with. We talk about class and homework and have hung out a few times but we definitely have not reached the point where I would bring up my daughter. Today I sat down in class and when I checked the time on my phone my screen saver was on and she saw  the picture of my daughter and said "Aw, who is that?". Honestly at the moment I was so upset that I had that picture up, I didn't really want to go into about the adoption and everything 3 minutes before my classed started but I didn't want to make up a lie and say she was a niece or something. In the back of my mind I also knew that this girl is raising her boyfriends daughter and she often complains about how the biological mom is a deadbeat. Having all this in mind, it made me very intimidated to talk about my story with her because I was
scared she would also label me as a deadbeat or someone who didn't care for my daughter.

I took a few seconds to answer and then I just said "Shes my birth daughter, I placed her for adoption last year and she is with a really amazing family." And of course after I said that there were a million more questions I could see that were about to explode out of her mouth. Most of them were understandable like "How long ago was it?", "How old is she?" and grew more ignorant with questions im sure some of us had heard  "Are you still with the father?" "Why?",  "Was it hard?". Honestly in the moment I wanted to scream at her. Of course it was hard, it was the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. What kind of a person do you think I am?

The ignorant questions from some people are extremely difficult to deal with. Sometimes I wish people could just think about things a little longer before they say them. I understand the questions, I would probably have questions too had I not been a birth mom. I cannot wait for the day where telling someone you're a birth mom isn't followed by a million personal questions about yourself and the situation.

Have you ever been in a similar situation? What kind of questions have you heard?

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Weird Conversations

In the four years since my child was born, I’ve had some weird conversations.  I don’t mean having the conversations one does about my experience as a birthmother.  And I don’t mean having to patiently explain that this isn’t a divorce, this isn’t a custody thing, and this isn’t temporary.  I signed away my rights and my child is gone from me.  But conversations that I simply never expected to have.  And sometimes, I had those conversations because the people who came to me didn’t know where else to go or who else to tell it to.

Several months ago, a friend of mine came to me in tears.  Her first words to me were, “I wish I had placed my daughter for adoption instead of keeping her and giving her this life.”  My friend is a single mother.  When we talked about my son and all the choices made, she told me she had considered adoption, but just couldn’t.  She was in a very different situation than the one I had been in so I didn’t fault her for her choices.  When she came to me with this sudden statement, I calmly reminded her that while she is a single mom, she is keeping a roof over her child’s head, her child is happy, well fed, and doing quite well as far as I can see.  Then I asked what prompted this.

As it turns out, her daughter, who is now seven I believe, is starting to figure out that not everyone just lives with mom.  Most people live with mom AND dad.  Her father has never been an abusive or bad influence in her life, just a very absent one.  And because she is seven, she just doesn't understand everything right now.  I assured my friend that this was not a case of her being a bad mother or making the wrong decision when her daughter was born.  This was simply a matter of a bad day and a girl who is growing up.  And as every child grows up, they want to fit in.  She bemoaned not giving her child a normal life which I had to counter with,

“Hon, MY kid isn't going to have a normal life either!  Yes, he has a mom and dad who are at home and care about him.  But he also has a birthmother he gets to see a lot, a birthfather that I hope he will see more of in the future, and sooner or later he’s going to have to reconcile all of that in his little brain and fit it together so that he understands.  His life isn't normal, no one’s life is normal.  The best you can do is be the best parent you can for your kid.  And I already know you are doing your very best.”

Then recently, I had another conversation that I never expected to have.  I was showing a long-time friend pictures of my son from the birthday party earlier that day.  That was when she told me she’s had a long-held desire to act as a surrogate for a couple at some point in her life.  I've known her a long time, and while I was slightly surprised by her confession, it didn't really shock me.  What kind of shocked me was what she said next.

“Would you-since you ended up being an unwilling surrogate essentially-would you be angry with me for doing that?”

“No!  No, I wouldn't be mad at all.  I would caution you.  It is a very taxing thing on the mind and the body and the emotions and even knowing the child isn't going to be yours, you’ll still have a connection to that child and you will still have something growing inside you and it’s going to have an effect on you.  But no, if that’s something you want to do for a couple, I would not be mad at you at all.  And if you wanted me to help you out with the emotional aftermath, I will be there for you.  If you want me to be around before that, or just keep away, or whatever you want me to do, I’d do it.”

She nearly cried.  I nearly cried.  But I was, once again, speaking in all honesty.  For some parents, that’s the route they want to go, and I understand it completely.  I think my friend was really worried about coming to me to complain about her aching back, her swollen ankles, the emotional aftermath, and how easily I could turn and say to her, “You asked for it.  Don’t complain to me.”

I could do that.  But I can’t.  Even if she did ask for it and I didn't, I couldn't be that mean to someone who is doing a truly wonderful and beautiful thing for someone else.  I try very hard not to compare people and their lives and situations to each other.  What one person can survive, others may not be able to.  Our situation is one that most can’t understand unless they have had to make the choices themselves.

What weird and strange conversations have you had with those in your life who know about your kids?  Has anyone else had weird conversations like this?  Or am I the lucky only one?  Ha ha!  It won’t bother me if it’s true.  I’ve been privy to many facts of my friends’ lives that others will never hear of.  Mostly this is because I’m known for my non-judgmental stance to almost everything and my ability to be a secret keeper.  But I know I never would have had these conversations were I not a birthmother.

Tell Your Story

Historically, birthmothers have been a population of women who have been bullied into silence.  And there were always reasons that at least seemed important at the time.  Mostly they were attached to how the community and society would see the woman and her family.  Women were supposed to be good and pure and polite.  Talking about an unplanned pregnancy at tea time would mostly likely make the older women in the room faint.  Even if that pregnancy was the result of rape or incest, there was still shame and fear heaped upon the women in these impossible situations.  While today unplanned pregnancies aren’t met with anywhere near the shame and societal pressures they were once met with, somehow, when one is a birthmother, we are still expected to keep silent.

I’ve been thinking about this a good deal of late; mostly because I've gotten more comfortable with telling my friends and co-workers about my son.  For a time there I only spoke to family, the small handful of friends I had who knew, and the birthmothers that I met through a support group run by the adoption agency I placed through.

My family didn't know really what to say.  My parents were also trying to understand why I had made my decision and what it meant about them.  I had to tell them at one point that in the end, this wasn’t about them.  This was about me, my boyfriend, and our son.  I had to make this decision for the three of us.  My parents’ age and health was a factor.  But it was not the only, nor the deciding factor.  It took us a couple of years before we could get to a point where we could talk to each other about it.  For a time there, it was painful on both sides and it was easier at times to just not talk about it.

My friends also didn't really know what to say.  I didn't expect them to.  I had suddenly apportioned myself off from everyone my age.  Anyone I knew who had gotten unexpectedly pregnant before had either terminated the pregnancy, had a miscarriage, or chose to give birth to and parent the child.  What I was going through, none of them ever had.  No one was sure what to do or what to say to me.  In the subsequent years, I have told others.  I have found a couple of birthmothers and a few adult adoptees who have helped me and have made me feel less alone.  My current circle of friends knows everything there is to know.  These friends have been the closest friends that I've had in a while.  We've gotten good at reading each other’s tone and each other’s mood.  And they know that I am going to my son’s birthday party tomorrow afternoon.  And I've been invited to one of the circle’s birthday party tomorrow night.  He’s declared that if I don’t feel up to it, he won’t be upset or insulted if I don’t appear at his party.  I told him I would let him know one way or the other.  Right now, I think I can do it.  But this kind of empathy I don’t find with every one of my friends.  So I count myself lucky when I do.

The other birthmothers that I have met and have become friends with are the ones who have almost understood everything I am going through and everything that I am saying.  Now and again a situation will come up that no one has faced before, but they make me feel less crazy when they say, “Oh honey, I would have no idea what to do either.  I’m so sorry.”  One birthmother in particular, K, has been a good close friend and a great support to me over the past few years.  Her daughter is several years older than my son.  Thus things like my sadness over missing the first steps, the first words, and the stake to the heart that is hearing him say “Mama” for the first time to someone who isn't me, were always met with understanding and kindness from her.  I saw her for the first time in months last week and it was a relief to speak to her since my son’s birthday was coming up so soon.  Hopefully I will be seeing her next month.

I have told my story and talked about being a birthmother in one other venue, and it is almost always to a room that is at least half strangers.  I have told stories.  I have read poetry.  I have called attention to the fact that birthmothers are out there and have stories to tell.  We shouldn't be ashamed of what we did and we shouldn't let others make us feel ashamed.  There are those who are shocked by my story.  There are those who gain a better understanding of me.  There are still others, I’m sure, who judge and dismiss me.  They wish that people like me, and the other birthmothers I know, would be quiet and keep shameful things like what I did to myself.  I’m not ashamed of what I did.  Most days I’m at peace with my decision.  Some days are harder than others.  I know that my son is where he needs to be in order to have the best life that he can.

My hesitance to share my story at times comes solely from my fear of how others will treat me and how they will react to my story.  While I know I did the right thing for my child and no one can tell me different, it does still sting when someone tells me that I abandoned my child.  It does still burn when they stare at me like a monster who left their kid on some street corner to be picked up by God knows who.  And it does make me feel about two inches tall when they tell me that surely with my family and my boyfriend and his family there was a way to make it work.  There was.  But that way would have been extremely difficult for everyone involved and my boyfriend and I knew better.  We knew that our son would suffer.  And that was something that we could not allow.

Our stories are stories that need to be told.  Our stories are important and should be acknowledged for their importance.  All of you have a story to be told and everyone’s is unique.  I encourage all of you, tell your story.  Write it, talk it, act it out, whatever you have to do, but please, tell your story.  Don’t be scared of it or ashamed of it.  It’s part of who you are and you should honor it.  If people judge you for it, that’s their problem.  There will be so many others who will love you for it and still others who will gain bravery and strength from it.

Where Do I Fit In?

As you know, I placed Micah when I was 17. 17 is a big stage in your life. For mine, it was my senior year of high school so I was keeping tabs on the people I wanted to stay in touch with when I went away to college.

I was expecting to be there for 4 years, so I wasn't too concerned with who I'd hang out with if I was home. As luck would have it, I failed out my freshman year.  E-town here I come!  It was weird being home.... people I went to high school with were home for the summer, going to parties, hanging out at HersheyPark, going to the beach, just living life! I sooo wanted to enjoy and be with them, but no one wants to hang out with the mopey sad girl who "gave up" her baby. To them, Micah was pretty much dead. If they couldn't see him or hold him, they didn't care. 

Long story short, over that summer I found myself hanging out with more of my "teen mom" friends. But I didn't fit in. Ijourneyed back over to my "college" friends. But I didn't fit in. I wasn't away at college but I wasn't taking care of my child, either. 

It's still difficult for me to find groups of friends where I really do fit in. I still feel as if I'm not 100% sure where I stand..

Have any of you felt like an "outsider" to people you were, at one point, friends with, post adoption?

Stop the Stigma

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My grandma sent me a newspaper clipping about the stigma surrounding adoption.

"Birth mothers choose life, and a family, for their child. But this choice is rarely celebrated. Women routinely face family, friends and even health-care providers who think that adoption equals abandonment, according to researchers and conversations with birth mothers.

Birth mothers in the United States each year number in only the thousands, compared with approximately 1.2 million abortions performed annually, according to Guttmacher Institute estimmates, and 1.4 million unexpected unwed births each year. Women bucking the cultural tide generally do not publicize their choice. They are much more willing to admit they have terminated a pregnancy, adoption advocates say, than to say they have placed a live newborn with loving parents."

Now, I'm not here to open up the abortion can of worms. 

And I'm not here to say choosing to parent your child is a lesser decision.

I am here to simply educate about the option of adoption. The article goes on to describe the fact that many women don't consider adoption because it's just never presented to them as an option. Many times women may think parenting and abortion are their only choices. Of those who are aware of adoption, many hold the old prejudices that adoption is abandonment, is selfish, is damaging and therefore don't consider it a legitimate choice.

And as the article said, and as some of us know very intimately, birth mothers often don't go publicizing their decision because of that stigma.

But it may be that they only way to slowly turn that stigma around and to inform expectant mothers of the third route is for birth mothers to make their voice known - about the benefits of adoption for all involved, about the reality of the difficulties after placement, about the many stereotypes and misinformation that is spread about birthmothers, adoptees and choosing to place a child.

How do you feel about being a voice for adoption? Have you met any of this stigma? What have you done to educate others about the third choice?

Failed Adoptions

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I would venture a guess that no one likes the word “failure,” especially in reference to themselves as people or in reference to their actions.  So why do we use that word when describing a choice to parent instead of place?  Is placement a failure to parent just as parenting is a failure to place in this case?  I argue that the same people wouldn’t use the term “failure” to describe a friend who chooses to raise her child instead of adoption placement, especially if the expectant mom never intends to place her child in the first place. 

I’m not referencing those birth moms who choose a person or couple prior to birth and then change their minds about the person or people they plan to place their child with.  I would call those failed matches.  But I hear the word failure as a derogatory statement most often when a birth mom chooses to parent at the last minute instead of continuing with her original choice of adoption placement.  I do believe placement is a parenting choice, and continuing to support your child’s parents after placement is also a parenting choice.  But it’s a different parenting choice than the more “traditional” choice of raising the child or children to whom you’ve given birth.

I think we need different terminology here.  I’m certain that it feels to the hopeful adoptive parents that they failed to impress the birth mother enough, or that someone else failed to convince her that placement was the right choice.  But placement is not an easy choice, and those who think that or try to convince an expectant mother of that are guilty of coercion.  I know that quite a few adoptive couples must feel like failures already if they’ve struggled with fertility issues before choosing adoption.  However, their feeling like failures should not be translated to an expectant mother who doesn’t choose them to parent her baby and instead decides to raise her baby herself.

I’m not certain that there is a simple word or phrase that could be used to describe this instance.  Adoption placement is borne out of loss.  The adoptive parents have lost the ability to bear their children whether through circumstances in their control or out and birth parents lose the ability to raise their children through choice, at least most often.  I realize there are special cases in which the birth parent has the choice to place made for them or coerced out of them.  I’m not addressing those situations, simply the birth parents that are not coerced into the choice. 

I do think that when the adoptive parents are chosen by an expectant mother that they tend to assume it’s a foregone conclusion.  Even if they know it’s a possibility and the expectant mother’s choice to change her mind, it’s hard to quell those hopes that automatically rise when one is chosen.  Understandably if those hopes have caused the HAPs to assume that the expectant mother is placing with them and it doesn’t happen, it’s a very negative experience when those hopes are dashed.  I also think that HAP’s tendency to refer to the expectant mother as a birth mom prior to relinquishment and placement does nothing to help quell those same hopes or at least keep them sort of manageable.

Do any of you reading this have suggestions for better terminology?  Should the HAPs just say that the expected placement didn’t happen because the expectant mother chose to parent her baby and leave it at that?

Expectations

“You’re not what I expected.”

Someone who had never met me in person but knew I was a birthmother said this to me upon meeting me. I guess by their comment that they had some preconceived ideas of how a birthmother might appear or act and I’m also guessing by their comment that I didn’t meet their preconceived notion of a birthmother.

I jokingly asked if I was better or worse than what they expected and they responded with better. Perhaps they were expecting someone younger, like a teenager or perhaps they were expecting someone who is uneducated. Maybe they were expecting someone who wasn’t parenting a child or maybe someone who isn’t married. I really don’t know; I’m not really sure what they were expecting! But whatever it was, I wasn’t it.

One thing I learned quickly once becoming active in the birthmother and adoption community is that birthmothers come in all different shapes, sizes, races, ethnicities, backgrounds, levels of education, etc. We (birthmothers) have chosen adoption for different reasons and we have varying different types of adoption and thoughts and views on adoption. But there is that one common bond that draws us all together – our (birth) children.

There is no “look” or “age” that predicts who is going to choose adoption and become a birthmother. And we may or may not be what someone else is expecting when they think of the word birthmother. The truth of the matter is we each define ourselves instead of our choices defining us.

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Expectations

"You're not what I expected....." 


Someone said this to me recently. They had never met me before but knew that they would be meeting me that day and they knew ahead of time that I am a birthmother. I guess by their comment that they had some preconceived ideas of how a birthmother might appear or act and I’m also guessing by their comment that I didn’t meet their preconceived notion of a birthmother.


I jokingly asked if I was better or worse than what they expected and they responded with better. Perhaps they were expecting someone younger, like a teenager or perhaps they were expecting someone who was uneducated. Maybe they were expecting someone who wasn’t parenting a child or maybe someone who isn’t married. I really don’t know; I’m not really sure what they were expecting! But whatever it was, I wasn’t it.


One thing I learned quickly once becoming active in the birthmother and adoption community is that birthmothers come in all different shapes, sizes, races, ethnicities, backgrounds, levels of education, etc. We (birthmothers) have chosen adoption for different reasons and we have varying different types of adoption and thoughts and views on adoption. But there is that one common bond that draws us all together – our (birth) children. 


There is no “look” or “age” that predicts who is going to choose adoption and become a birthmother. And we may or may not be what someone else is expecting when they think of the word birthmother. The truth of the matter is, we each define ourselves instead of our choices defining us. Being a birthmother is only a small part of who we are.




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Unplanned Doesn’t Necessarily Equal Unwanted

Sometimes society views adopted children as unwanted or unloved because the birth mother made an adoption plan and “gave her baby away.” Sometimes it’s assumed that she didn’t want or love her child.

Do mothers who make adoption plans really not love their children or not want them? Of course not! Just because an expectant mother is considering adoption or actively making an adoption plan or because a birthmother made an adoption plan five, ten, or even thirty years ago does not make her baby unwanted or any less loved than the woman painting her nursery pink down the street.


I didn’t try to get pregnant with Charlie and I didn’t want to get pregnant at that time in my life which is why I was on birth control in the first place. But, the unthinkable happened and I found myself unexpectedly pregnant. Sure, there were times throughout the pregnancy that I thought why couldn’t this have happened a few years later when my life was in order and I was ready to parent but the circumstances were what they were at that moment in my life and wishful thinking wouldn’t change them. 


Although I didn’t want to be pregnant at that time, that doesn’t mean that I didn’t want and love my baby. I loved my baby with every piece of my heart. I spent many sleepless nights tossing and turning wondering what would be the best decision for my unborn baby. And once I decided to make an adoption plan, I chose the family, I asked them questions, and I got to know them over the duration of my pregnancy. I did all those things because I loved my baby. Once Charlie was born, I spent precious time with him telling him how much he was loved.


And now, even though it’s hard at times, I maintain an open adoption relationship with Charlie and his family. Just because he was placed for adoption doesn’t mean that he was unwanted or unloved.

Standing Tall

When I was about eight years old I went with my mom to visit my uncle. I loved visiting my uncle. He worked on a railroad and he always had great stories about all of his many adventures. This particular visit to his house he had a video for my mom and I to watch. It was a video of a vacant building being imploded. For whatever reason, he was invited by a friend of his to watch (and record) this spectacle. I was captivated. I sat and watched the camera zoom into the structure. I waited patiently for the crowning moment. I listened intently to the hustle and bustle of the workers as they prepared to detonate the structure. Then just like that, it was done. What was once a tall building was now a pile of dust and rubble.

Looking back I can’t help but wonder why I was so captivated by such an event. Maybe I was just a little kid who wanted to see something blow up, or maybe it’s just human nature to enjoy watching things fall. Either way, I can’t help but wonder. What purpose did that building serve? I was never told what it was actually used for. Even if it was just a warehouse used to store items, surely someone somewhere had fond memories of it. What about the people who built it? How would they feel if they knew I took such pleasure in watching the fruits of their labor crumble to the ground?

As birth parents we face unique challenges that other parents do not. While other parents are watching their children take their first steps, we will watch this moment from a distance and some of us won’t watch at all. We also face spectators who want to see us fall. People who are so put off by the idea of adoption what they write us off as dead beat parents, lazy, or just plain heartless. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not claiming that we’re the only group of people out there who face these spectators. From my experience, however, it certainly seems that these people are allowed to stand a little bit closer to the front lines.

As I move through life as a birth mother, I look for reasons to stand tall every day. One look at the photo of my son that sits on my desk can turn an otherwise crappy day into the day I decide to live life like it’s my last day on earth. The thought that one day my son will possibly be proud of me can give me the burst of energy needed to pull myself through the week, month, or even the year. Most recently, I’ve decided to think of the spectators. That ugly little group of people who stand on the sidelines, waiting for me to fall. I will never let those spectators see me fall.

Besides, whenever a building of some significance is scheduled to be demolished, there is always a whole other group of people fighting to preserve it.

Cheers!

-Lacy

Selfless vs. Selfish

Some people say they "wake up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy", but recently I've been waking up in the morning feeling like dookie. "Dookie" is my code word for crap. I sometimes feel like "Is this the day that I lose it?"

I haven't had that mental or emotional breakdown that I was told would come from this whole process. I keep getting told "your story seems too good to be true", "this is not how adoptions go, you're not telling the whole truth". How do you explain and make people understand you're not normal? That's the thing, you shouldn't have to explain to others your feelings or explain to them how your story is. Because your story is your story and how you feel, deal, and handle everything about it is all you. Nobody else can be in your shoes or know your experience. Only you hold the truths to all of that.

I've always been a very emotional person, someone who wears their heart on their sleeve. But up until about 6 months ago I've put up a very high wall when it comes to my feelings and my story. There are always going to be people that don't understand it and don't really even want to understand it.


For example: The day that I gave birth to E I received a very hateful message from a woman telling me that "I was a horrible mother and that E is going to hate me for what I've done and that I will regret what I've done and that I should be ashamed of myself for having two children and thinking that E wasn't good enough to "keep"". You can only imagine the pain that I felt by that message, the anger, resentment, and sadness that was going through my head. I was trying to look at it from her point of view and trying to understand why she thought what I was doing was so selfish and was wishing that I could show her that it wasn't a selfish decision but a selfless one.

Our decision was one that we made, that I made with a very heavy heart. I didn't go into it thinking that it would be the easiest thing I'd ever do in my life, when in all actuality it is by far the HARDEST most DIFFICULT thing that I have ever had to do in my entire life. But I will never apologize for the decision that we made.

Our story is one in a million, not everyone gets to experience the joy in it too. But where there is joy there is always that lingering pain.

We aren't the only ones that are hurting. My mom is a mother and a grandmother, so it was hard for her to understand this choice. It was hard for her because she loved me and loved the child that was growing inside of me but no matter what my choice was she stood by me. She even came to visit me while in the hospital to say her hello's to E and let him know that she loved him. Selfless.

My husband has had family members that have been very loving and very supportive of our decision, most of which also came to the hospital to see E and to be there for us in our time of sadness. Selfless.

We also have had family members tell us that our adoption was a "publicity stunt to make people feel sorry for us and to like me more". We have taken those people out of our lives. The negativity of some people personally is disgusting but you have to realize that those people have nothing better to do then to talk badly about such a selfless and strong choice that you have made. That makes them selfish.

It's the reaction and actions you give and take that make the difference. I sometimes feel sorry for those people who can't understand or feel such an act of selflessness and love. You just want to shake them to make them understand, but doing so won't help, because you can't make those who aren't in it get it. Not everyone is strong enough to make this kind of choice. We are among the few that are strong enough to understand that we were chosen, we were picked to bring these children into the world and to bless others with the ability to have a family when they themselves could not do the same for themselves.

In closing I want to tell you do not let anyone tell you you are selfish, that you have made a bad decision. And don't ever feel that way either.

"We reflect on how things could have been but it was worth it in the end" -Daughtry

With love -

Alicia

Sinner or Saint?

It seems like when society is thinking about birthmothers we often fit into one of two categories. We are either a sinner or a saint.

Some of us are viewed as sinners because we were unwed at the time we unexpectedly became pregnant so we committed what many view as a “sin” by getting pregnant. We are sinners because we shamed our families by getting pregnant. We are sinners because we did the unthinkable and “gave our babies away.” Some of you may be thinking that people don’t think that sort of thing in this day and age and granted that line of thinking probably isn’t as near as common as it once was, some people still do think that way.

Then there is the flip side of the coin. There are those who view me as a “saint,” an “angel,” or whatever similar word of their choosing. They say how happy I made Charlie’s adoptive family, what a blessing it is for me to be in their (Charlie’s family) lives, etc. They also tell me that I am brave and courageous. Yes it is true, that making an adoption plan for Charlie made his family happy but that wasn’t why I made an adoption plan. I also didn’t make an adoption plan in order to be angelic or saintly and most days I don’t feel very brave or courageous. I did it because it was what I felt was the best decision for Charlie and all involved at that time in my life.

Where do I view myself on the sinner or saint issue? I’m neither. I’m just a girl and a Mother who made some mistakes (not Charlie, but the acts that led up to his conception) and then did what she felt was best for both of her children.


Photo Credit

Dealing with Others

“I could never do that.”

This statement makes my stomach churn every time I hear it and I’m sure there are probably some other birthmothers out there reading this, sitting at their computer desks, nodding their heads yes in unison.

First, let me clarify the context that I’m referring to in this post. I’m referring to the “I could never do that” statement in the context of being a birthmother, typically when I’ve just shared with someone who doesn’t know my story very well or even know that I am a birthmother.

“I could never do that.”

It seems like such a harmless phrase, doesn’t it? A simple comment probably made when the commenter can not think of anything else to say or has no clue what to say. The commenter probably did not intend for it to be hurtful. But it can be hurtful.

Why does that seemingly innocent comment hurt me and make me green? Those five little words usually uttered carelessly make me feel so judged. Instantly I feel as if the person is sizing me up thinking, “how COULD she do that.” I feel like in that moment they think they are superior and better than me.

The truth of the matter is, I probably said that once upon a time before I wore the scarlet B and I probably made someone feel as low as I feel when that is said to me.

So what do you say when someone makes that comment? I usually respond in one of two ways, depending upon my mood at the moment. I will typically either say “I never thought I would have to either,” which is the honest to God truth. I never in a million years thought I would become a birthmom. Or response number two is “And I hope you never have to,” because I don’t want others to feel the pain of being a birthmother.

What do you say when someone makes a similar comment to you?