[SchmennaLeigh]

I'm sharing my story.

--

My Mother got pregnant with me at the age of eighteen. I was born nine days after her nineteenth birthday and four months, twelve days after she married my Dad. I remember figuring out that she was pregnant with me when they married sometime around my thirteenth birthday. Why it took me this long, I have no idea. I'll attribute it to having a strong distaste for math. I remember being very angry and feeling as though I had been mislead in some way seeing as how my parents were encouraging me to wait until marriage before I had sex. I remember the fights that I had with my Mom just after finding out this information: "You didn't want me! I was a mistake! You never really wanted me!" She tried to explain, bless her heart, over and over, that while I was not planned, I was very much wanted. I laughed in her face, basically called her stupid and told her that she was a horrible Mother. How hard was it to refrain from getting pregnant?

Oh, how history repeats itself in strange ways.

Once I passed the magic years of eighteen and nineteen with no pregnancy, I figured I was in the clear! I was the first one on Mom's side not to have a child at nineteen, whether they were married previously or not. So, college came and went and suddenly I found myself a twenty-one year old woman, working in a low-paying, dead-end job... and pregnant to a man I had nothing to do with and wanted nothing to do with. Life is funny.

I moved back with my parents for a little bit before I secured a slightly better paying job (slightly!) and my own apartment. Adoption had entered my mind once when my Mom mentioned it but it wasn't something I considered seriously. I was taking advantage of state funded assistance, working and hoping to save enough money for when the Baby arrived. I even bought a pack of diapers as a friend had suggested if you bought them along the duration of your pregnancy, you wouldn't be shocked at how many you had to buy post-delivery.

But money is hard to save when you need to pay rent, electric and, oh, eat for two. I was beginning to doubt my ability to do this on my own and started researching adoption. This was round about sixteen weeks of pregnancy. By this point, I had turned twenty-two.

I was sitting in my small living room one evening when I decided to simply fill out the introductory paperwork from one agency. The next morning, I woke up feeling slightly under the weather. I went to work and by Noon, I was miserable. I had a pain that ran from my abdomen to my back. They sent me home from work where I ate a cheese sandwich and took a three hour nap. I awoke in a pool of sweat. I took my temperature to find it hovering near 103 degrees. I called my Grandmother as my parents were vacationing in Las Vegas and she told me to call the doctor. They told me to head to the ER.

I was whisked to Labor and Delivery where they checked the Baby first. All was well with the Munchkin. After that, they ran a battery of tests on me, checking for everything from a simple infection to appendicitis. (If you've been checked for appendicitis, I'm sure you know how uncomfortable that was for me, alone, and eighteen weeks pregnant.) It was eventually discovered that I had unilateral hydronephrosis and a stent needed to be surgically placed into my kidney because infection had backed up. I went through this alone as well.

After the surgery, I was unable to work. In fact, I was barely able to move. I spent most of my time at my parents' house in bed or on the couch. They were a great deal of help during this time, but unfortunately, I wasn't saving any money by being unable to work. It was at this point that I seriously began to investigate and consider adoption. It was also at this point that the agency I had sent the preliminary info to started calling on a regular basis.

I was eventually sent some profiles. I sorted through them and found one family that I liked. I prodded my counselor at the agency to contact the couple but she was reluctant (or procrastinating?) because the couple had stated they wanted one gender. I had not yet had an ultrasound and, being on Medicaid, I probably wouldn't have one. I finally convinced her to call just about the same time that I convinced my doctor to give me an ultrasound. (My office did NOT give u/s unless your dates were not matching up. I basically threatened him with legal action for holding up adoption procedures. I can talk a lot of bull.)

Our first phone call was a conference call with the counselor acting as a go between when there were lulls in conversation. They told me about their childhoods, their children, their relationship. I talked about my thoughts and dreams for the Munchkin. We hit it off great. Immediately after the conference call, we exchanged email addresses and home phone numbers.

They came out the weekend before my big ultrasound. We had dinner at a restaurant with my parents and the new boyfriend who I had started seeing before I made the decision to investigate adoption. He had been willing to be a parent to my child but was now supporting me as I tried to figure out what was the best decision. The dinner went well though it was somewhat awkward as a waitress asked me about the baby, etc.

They attended the ultrasound with me. This is what I wrote on that day in my personal journal:

First of all, it's a girl.

Secondly, she broke my heart.

The ultrasound was yesterday. J and D (the adoptive parents) drove me to the hospital. Let me tell you, whoever decided that it was necessary for a pregnant woman to drink and hold 32 ounces of water in her bladder was a man. Especially because of the stent I was in a massive amount of pain as we waited.

The technician who didn't look any older than I do poured the gooey warm gunk all over my tummy. I was in the room without J and D at first; apparently some rules about me seeing first. I don't know. Anyway, when I first saw Munchkin's face, which was in crazy detail due to the fact that ultrasounds have come a long way since I was in utero, my heart stopped. I waited to find out the sex until J and D came in the room.

She waved at all three of us. Literally. While we were looking at her one hand which was propped behind her head as though she was relaxing on the beach she opened and closed her hand about four times. Yes. I was misty eyed.

And then we saw her hoo-ha. In massive detail. This made me laugh. Afterwards, I hugged the two extremely excited parents-to-be and went to relieve myself in the bathroom which took approximately eight years.

And I sobbed.

Oh, Baby Girl, you are so beautiful. If I can tell that you are beautiful when you are still in black and white pictures surrounded by a bunch of gook, goodness, you're going to be so gorgeous. I'm sorry. But your parents... all of them... love you dearly. So much.

In October, I had to be rushed to our hospital by my Dad and then to a hospital in Pittsburgh by ambulance after the stent was removed. The hospital did not monitor me long enough and my ureter swelled shut, thus making it impossible for me to pass urine. A full bladder, that late in pregnancy, can cause contractions and cause it did. It took two days to get my contractions stopped. My Mom sat by my side.

After that, I was a bit more mobile. I was able to go out a little bit, here and there. J&D came to visit one more time and we spent the afternoon in Pittsburgh, enjoying the sights. We had one false labor scare in which I thought my water broke. It didn't!

The night I went into labor, I knew it was real. My parents had gone out a day early for their anniversary and I was at their home, alone with my fourteen year old brother. I sat, played cards and timed them. When they got home, I called the doctor on call to ask, "If I come in with contractions five minutes apart at thirty-eight weeks and I'm not dilating, are you sending me home?" The answer was yes. So I told Mom to go to bed and I got some sleep. I woke at 4:30 in the morning to hear two audible pops. I didn't know what they were until I stood only to feel a gush of water. The time had come.

My labor is a blur. I recently tried to recount the day. This is what I came up with in my personal journal:

I never wrote out Munchkin's complete birth story. I do not know specifically why, though I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that it was all a complete, overwhelming blur that I attempted to remove myself from as soon as possible. I regret it now; regret that I don't have a full account of how she entered this world. I remember, of course, in that strangely removed way.

I remember more than I let myself, I think. If I truly allow myself to sit, quietly, and let the memories swirl about, I can see myself, so small in the hospital bed. I remember when Leah (best friend and labor coach) and my Mother left to take a break shortly after I had been given my epidural. I remember the lights being very low, J and D sitting to my left. I remember pretending to sleep but, in all reality, I just didn't want to deal with anything that was currently going on in and around me. I remember the pressure building and not knowing that it was the end of dilation; I just thought my epidural had worn off. I knew nothing about labor. I did little research. Perhaps this was my way of not dealing with the separation that would come immediately post-delivery. When the nurse checked me and said, "We're going to have a baby," I will never be able to forget the fear that instantaneously welled up within me. The nurse caught it, immediately, and asked what was wrong. I simply said that I needed Leah and my Mother to get back before anything happened. I didn't want to say that I didn't want to push and give birth to this child because I didn't know if I could say goodbye to her.

I remember Leah at my left side, my Mother at my right. I remember the horrible, awful new Resident Doctor that would anger me to no end every time she walked into the room. I remember the one nurse, attempting to keep her out of the room as much as possible. I remember J and D being off to my left, close to the wall. J was standing. D was sitting. I remember Leah being so insanely supportive. I remember the cloth on my forehead. I remember D going to the bathroom, over and over again, close to hyperventilating. I remember telling Leah that she was stuck.

And then it was over.

She was whisked away as I collapsed in a sweaty heap. I remember hearing her height and her weight (7lbs, 9oz; 19inches long) and how it hit me like a ton of bricks that Josh had been one-hundred percent right. But the rest? The rest blurs together. I was not the first, nor the second, nor the third, nor the fourth to hold her. In fact, when I finally got to hold her, I had just been given a shot of Stadol for my stitches... and I wouldn't remember the moment if someone wouldn't have snapped a picture. I spent the evening alone in my hospital room without my child. I was never treated as the Mother. And, to this day, it still hurts.

And, to recount the day that we left the hospital, there is this entry from my personal journal:

The past three days have been the hardest three days of my life. I never knew that I could feel so many emotions at the same time. I don't think I've ever seen such a beautiful baby girl. I'll never forget today:

She was wearing a little off-white snow suit with little bear ears on top. The volunteer pushed me in the wheelchair down the endless hallway. Jeff, Denise, D2 (Denise's mom), and my Dad all followed behind. I held her in my arms. She was more alert than I had ever seen her before. She stared at me with the most serious, dark, dark brown eyes. They seemed to ask, "Why are there tears falling down your face? What's wrong? What is going on? Why are you so sad, Mommy?" In the lobby, an old lady kept pestering me; she asked me her name, said she was beautiful. Then I handed Munchkin to my father who placed her in the car seat carrier. I believe that J tried to say something to me. I couldn't hear. I couldn't see through the ocean of tears. I walked away. Out into the cold air. It stung my face and my heart simultaneously. I walked away. I walked away...

And in the words of the gift that J and D had engraved for me, Forever In My Heart.

I am so broken.

That's a look into the pure emotion that I felt on that day.

It took awhile to begin to deal with things. On Christmas, I called and left them a Merry Christmas type message. It was after that call that we slowly started to build our relationship to what it has now become: a wonderful, extended family.

D was a bridesmaid in my wedding. The two of us had sons this past November. We have lovely visits. We have great conversations.

But this does not remove the fact that I am a birthmother and that my child is now being raised by another Mom. That hurts me, especially now that I see my son growing. I know what I have missed. There are parts of me that wish I had not gotten sick, that I had been able to work and save money like I had planned. There are parts of me that wish my parents had been more supportive... or even that I had been crazy enough to accept my Mom's last minute invitation to adopt my daughter. But I can't live my life playing the forever "what if, should have, could have" game. I have to live a better life for her. I have to prove to her, someday, that she comes from good stock. I have to find some way to let her know, through the letters, cards, pictures and visits, that she has always been my primary concern.

It's not always easy. I have my bad days/weeks/months (which you can read about elsewhere on the forums). The aparents know when I need a bit more space, time to deal with the loss. I can only pray that she will someday understand. I will be there, however painful, to let her know that I have always and will always love her.

Until then, my story continues.

[Shay]

Oh my Jenna thank you for sharing that very touching emotional raw story with us. I am very impressed with how you posted this and very touched as well.

Thank you again...

[momdad2bee]

Jenna .... thank you for sharing your story with us. I was feeling what you were feeling as I was reading, you have a very unique way of putting feelings into words...
That was very brave of you to share such a personal part of your life with us ... but we already know how brave you are by the fact that you are a Birthmom.
Thank you again .... and by the way HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Jackie

[Leigh131313]

Thank you for sharing. I never knew your situation going into the adoption, and now that I do...i kinda understand your reality now a little better.

Leigh

[FauxClaud]

Oh, jenna...

You know I have read alot of stories..and I am pretty hard now to an extent..i don't cry.

You made me cry.

**** Kidney. I am really pissed off at your kidney.

[SchmennaLeigh]

Mmm, thank you all for the comments. Brandy asked me to share. And I did. I could have gone into more detail in some parts (why I slept with the birthfather/who he was, some family issues that also lead to placement, awful things that were said to me that made me feel as though I had no other option), but this is what came out when I sat to write this evening.

--

Claud, thanks. I don't know why, or maybe I do, but your compliment means a lot to me right now. Much more than I would have expected. In fact, the fact that you cried brought me to tears. Stupid freaking hormones. Or is it? Sigh.

And yes, I am NOT a fan of my kidney. And I never, ever will be. I keep asking Josh for a new one.

[bromanchik]

There are so many painful, heart-breaking stories. Putting it in writing can be powerful, though. Giving voice to what feels unspeakable. You write beautifully. People need to know the other side....

[Kimmisue]

Thank you for sharing. We were with our son's bmom when he was born and the hospital situation sounds so similar. It was moving for me to read about your feelings because M didn't express any the entire time we were there. I know that it wasn't because she wasn't hurting or didn't care. I know that she did, she was just trying to be strong. I will never forget when she signed the adoption papers and then brought him over to me and I sobbed, not only for the son I was receiving, but for the pain she must have felt. It's unimaginable. I am so grateful for the courage and strength she must have had to be able to go through with her decision. I'm sure your daughter's aparents feel the same.


God bless you and may you continue to find peace. Congratulations on your son. That's wonderful.

Kim

[AwaitingBeloved]

Oh, Jenna.

You are such an amazing person, and I am sure your sharing this will help lots of people. Thank you for enlightening me. I'm sorry for your heartache. And I hope this helps you in your journey of healing.

[taramayrn]

Thank you so much for sharing your story Jenna.

[Tigger27]

Jenna,

Your story got me in tears. Thanks for sharing.

Anne

[michellemartin]

Jenna, even though I have heard your story (from you) before, I still read through it all. Your kidney is mean! Josh is wonderful. It is sad to know the things we miss, the things we dont get to watch them learn...

[Montraviatommyg]

I've read quite a bit of your journal but reading your story here still brought a lump to my throat.

Pip

[mamacrina]

Thank you for posting your story. To have the ability to let others look inside your mind and to understand, even a little, is an amazing gift.