It's Christmas 1989...

I remember being so excited for Christmas that year. My belly was growing, therefor my baby was growing. The morning sickness had finally subsided, and I was free to eat what I wanted without the ramifications of the morning sickness.

School was going well, my pregnancy was going well, even my relationship with the bio-dad was going well. I couldn't have been happier with life at that time. My mom had just remarried, it seemed like she was finally settling down. Life was good!!!

I can remember laying on the couch watching the Christmas tree lights and just rubbing my belly enjoying the little flutters that were inside. You still couldn't really feel them from the outside, but I could definitely feel them on the inside. The bio-dad would sit and try to feel them but at that stage he never really could.

It was probably one of the best times of my pregnancy. All the turmoil that the pregnancy had caused with my family had settled down, and the bio-dad and I were becoming excited about the upcoming arrival of the baby.

With that Christmas came an engagement ring and a promise to marry me and love our baby. This was real, I was finally going to have the family I was wanted. My baby was going to have a mommy and a daddy to love her. Oh I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but I also knew that as a family (bio-dad, baby, and me) we could slay any dragon that came our way. I made a pact with myself to be the best mommy and wife that my husband and child could ever ask for. I knew since we had come this far we could go the distance.

I loved life, I loved my fiancee, and I loved my baby. Nothing was going to keep be from being someone that they would be proud to call wife and mommy. Again I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but I knew we could do it. I just knew it.

For that Christmas the bio-dad gave me a baby book for the baby, 2 white photo albums, and the journal that all of this has been written down in. Oh I started the journal in a spiral notebook but when he gave me the beautiful bound journal I re-wrote everything in it. I still have the baby book (obviously it has never been filled out), one of the 2 white albums, and the journal. I have always kept them, but always wanted to trash them at the same time. The two white albums I will talk about the use I made of them in a later post, but they were put to use.

This was such a happy time for me. My mom was excited about the baby (so was I of course), my best friend had begun to accept my fiancee (even though she hated him), the bio-dad's parents even seem to have begun to accept the baby and me, and I was well on my way to accomplishing my first goal...high school graduation.

Love to all...

Starting A Reunion Blog...

I am going to resume telling my birthmom story on this blog, which is what I set it up for. It seems like my reunion drama has hijacked my birthmom story, and I really want my birthmom story to flow like...well...a story.

I will continue to post the reunion stuff , but it will be posted on the reunion blog. I will eventually merge the two of these blogs when the time is right. For now they each have their own blog to fit the purposes of my postings.

The reunion is:

www.ridingthereunionrollercoaster.blogspot.com

Love to all...

The Wonderful Little Flutters...

According to my journal I left the first little flutters of my baby on Dec. 12th. I wasn't entirely sure what it was at first.

I would feel these little flutters, and for some strange reason I thought they were butterflies. You know like what you get when your nervous? But I wasn't nervous, according to my journal I felt it for the first time in my calculus class.

What I wrote in my journal says...I was sitting in class and all of a sudden I got butterflies in my stomach. Like the I'm nervous type of butterflies, but it was more like I had swallowed an entire swarm of butterflies that were flying around in my stomach. It started and then stopped, and started and stopped, and...well you get the picture. I pushed on my belly where I could feel them and it would happen again. So of course (DUH!!!) I pushed again. I had no idea what it was. (Yes, I did read the books...)

The day was almost over and so I waited wondering what the deal was. As soon as school let out I ran to the pay phone and called my mom. She told me to take the bus home, and call Dr Siegel when I got there. I was getting nervous because I had no idea what was going on, but I wasn't scared. There wasn't any pain or anything, just this swarm of butterflies in my stomach. How very strange...

Once I got home I called Dr Siegel's office, and asked to speak with the nurse. When the nurse came on the phone I told her what was going on. She laughed and said...congratulations sweetie you are feeling your baby move for the first time. Is that what that is? Just about that time it happened again, I giggled to the nurse that it was happening again. She told me that it will continue to happen, only the movement will become more noticeable. I thanked her and hung up.

I rushed in and laid down on my bed and pushed on my belly. Oh, it happened again...my baby was responding to me. I was so thrilled, I couldn't wait for my mom to get home so I could tell her. I remember just laying there pushing on my belly just to be able to feel the movement my baby would make. After about 45 minutes of my pushing at her she stopped moving...PANIC!!! Back to the phone I ran, I called Dr Siegel's nurse again. She explained to me (this time slightly irritated) that the baby had stopped moving because she probably had fallen asleep and that it was nothing to worry about. Oh thank God...I said, and hung up.

About an hour later my mom came home and I was bouncing with the excitement that my baby was moving. She told me that was a good sign, and that I was wearing her out with all the bouncing around. I recall her saying...you have so much energy for being pregnant. I'm not sure how I responded, but I'm sure I laughed. My mom then asked me how I was feeling about things. She asked how things were going with Doug and I. She would have had a fit if she knew that we had several blow ups that had resulted in him hitting me. I never told her because I always felt like I had to protect him, and our family. (stupid me)

I called Tina and told her, but she couldn't come over because she had to go to work. I had told her on the bus what I was feeling, but then we didn't know what it was. She was just as excited as I was, but she was bummed because she couldn't come right over. Tina kept saying...See I told you our baby was going to be fine. You need to learn to trust me, and stop worrying so much. I loved Tina so much for being there for me. Especially since I know I must have driven her crazy with my incessant worrying. She was always such a good sport about it, though.

That night my mom, my sister, and I sat on my bed talking about what we wanted for Christmas, and stuff like that. My mom told me that she would get stuff for the baby, she just wasn't sure what yet. About that time my baby started moving again, I got all excited and asked them if they wanted to feel it. Well, of course that early on they really couldn't feel it but they were good sports and at least tried.

What a great day, my baby was alive and I had the fluttering to prove it. God, how I loved my baby...I couldn't wait for her to come into the world. I just knew she would be a replica of her bio-dad, but I prayed that God would mold her to love more like me, and to have more of my personality. I just knew she was going to be beautiful both inside and out, and she was going to be all mine. A baby to love, nurture, and raise...I was finally beginning to feel like I could really do this.

Miss Peanut Has A Heart Beat...

November 14, 1989 I had my second official ( 3rd actual) prenatal appoint with Dr Siegel. I was so excited because I remembered that this was the day I was going to get to hear my baby's heart beat.

That sounded impossible to me, I knew there was a baby in there (I was growing by leaps and bounds)...but it still was just so surreal to me. And this was the day that my dream was going to become a reality. WOW!!!

As always I arrived right on schedule, and was told to have a seat and the nurse would call me soon. UGH...I hate waiting, I moaned. At that point I am sure the receptionist spotted the PITA label on my chart because she promptly reminded my to have a seat and closed the glass window. So I went to sit and wait, and wait, and wait. As I was waiting I began to wonder if nothing special was suppose to take place during these visits would they NOT make me wait? (How quickly I had forgotten that 2 weeks ago I rushed into the office needing an emergency and was taken right back.) Anyway, I waited what seemed like forever and then finally the nurse called me back.

I was handed that dreaded plastic cup and told to urinate into it. I snatch the cup with the 17 year old attitude I had, and stomped into the bathroom, complaining the whole way about why did I need to pee in the darn cup every visit. Again, I am sure that this is the point that the nurse too noticed the PITA in big letters on my chart, because she simply raised her eyebrows at me. I went into the bathroom lowered my pants, squatted over the toilet, and proceeded to pee all over my hand. MY GOD, why do I have to do that every time? So after a little adjustment (a little too late) I was able to pee in the cup enough the satisfy the pee-pee fairies over in the lab. Then I was weighed, asked a million question, and placed in an exam room and told (you guessed it) the doctor will be in shortly. I HATE WAITING!!! Don't these people understand, this is a big day for me. I am going to get to hear my baby's heart beat. I HATE WAITING!!!

This time though the wait was shorter than usual (or at least it seemed). Dr Siegel came in and told me that I had gained 3 lbs for a total weight gain of 6 lbs. Well thank you Dr Siegel for reminding that I am almost the size of a small house boat, as if I didn't already know that. He then asked me...have you had anymore bleeding? (no) Have you had any cramping? (no) How is your morning sickness? (better) Are you getting enough sleep at night? (i sleep all the time, how do I know when it's night and day?) How is school going? (it's going) Do you have any questions for me? (are you going to let me hear my baby's heart beat today?)

He says...we are going to try. TRY??? What the heck does that mean? Dr Siegel then explained to me that sometimes this early you can't hear the heart beat with the Doppler fetal monitor. Are you kidding me? That was not what I expected to hear, I expected to hear absolutely right now we will hear your baby's heart beat. Then he reached a crossed to the counter picked up a two piece (ok one piece connected with a curly cord) monitor thing, again he squited the jelly flown in specially from the south pole and then waved one piece of the monitor across my belly. He listened intently, then moved it across my belly to the other side.

I then heard a faint whoosh-whoosh-whooshing noise, so Dr Siegel turns up the monitor and I can hear my baby's heartbeat. I couldn't control it, nor did I want to...but the tears just flowed. I couldn't believe it I was going to have a baby. I know at that point I was crying and laughing, I was so excited to hear my baby's heartbeat. Dr Siegel told me to calm down for a minute so he could count the beats. I can't remember exactly how many beats it was (and no I did not write it down in my journal), but Dr Siegel looked at me and said...this baby has a very fast heartbeat. My tears of joy instantly turned to terror. He said...no it is fine, it just means that it is probably a girl. A what...I asked. He laughed and said...girls usually have faster heartbeats than boys, so with the way this baby's heart is beating it is probably a girl. OH MY GOD...I AM HAVING A GIRL!!! (notice how he said probably a girl, but I heard it is a girl?)

Dr Siegel then decided that since I was in the office he would just take a quick peek at the baby with the sonogram machine. (I'm not sure he trusted me when I said that I hadn't been doing anything I wasn't suppose to be doing, but I wasn't complaining I was going to get to see my baby again.) So he sent me into the sono room and told me he would be in shortly. Here comes the waiting game again!! GEESH!!! I have no idea how long I waited, but finally Dr Siegel came in, squirted the frozen jelly on my belly, and placed the sono wand over where we had just heard the heart beat.

There she is Miss Peanut (I told you I hear it was a girl). Only this time instead of just seeing the heart beat I could actually hear it in my mind's eye. Suddenly this little peanut became a real baby to me. Suddenly I knew that no matter what I couldn't live without this baby. She was growing in there and would someday soon be pushed (by me of course) into the world. She was my baby, my daughter, my first born child. I loved her more than words could describe. I remember my heart swelling with love and pride, that not only was she there, but that I had kept her alive.

I remember thanking God. I remember laying on that table and hearing that heart beat in my head, and thanking God. He heard me when I prayed that day, he kept my baby alive. I knew then that it was my job to keep my promise and be the best mommy I could be to her (I was so sure it was a girl). I then promised God again that I would always do what was best for my baby. I had no idea what that would entail, but I knew I would give my life to give her what was best. (sometimes I wish I had given my own life instead.)

I went home that day on cloud 9, I couldn't wait to call Tina and tell her. I'm having a girl...I screamed into the phone. (he said probably, but I heard positively) Tina started screaming with me as only 17 year old girls can do, and I was jumping up and down. She said...I will be right over. When I hung up the phone I felt so loved. I loved (love) Tina so much for being there for me. I mean really how many high school girls shout for joy at the idea of their friend having a baby girl? Not only did she scream with me, she was rushing over to see me. Tina was truly my rock, she never let me down a moment of any part of my pregnancy or the long journey that I traveled afterwards.

Tina came over and we sat on my bed and we just talked. We talked about what my baby would look like, we talked about how I wanted her to be a part of my baby's life. We talked about how things would never be same after the baby was born. We talked about how Tina would never leave me to raise my baby by myself. I knew that when Tina told me that she would always be there I could believe her. To this day she has never forsaken our friendship. We went through a period of being at different stages in our lives, but I always knew she was there for me if I needed her.

I began to understand that night that not only did Tina love me, but she loved my baby. That my baby could count on her just as much as I could. I remember looking at her and saying...What if I mess this up? Tina, what if I can't be the mommy this baby needs? What if Doug leaves me all alone to raise this baby? I told Tina...I love this baby with more love than I ever thought I had in me. I wanted this baby so much, I wanted to be a mommy she could be proud of. Of all the things I am afraid of doing wrong, my biggest fear is that I would fail my baby. I remember Tina taking my hand and saying...I will help you if you need me to. I will be here for you and for our baby. (Tina always said "our" baby...always)

So here we were 2 young girls making a commitment to each other and to a baby that we both loved. To this day, I have never forgotten the words that were spoken that day, nor have I ever forgotten how much Tina loved "our" baby.

My Homecoming Tent...I Mean Dress...

I can't remember the exact of date of Homecoming that year and for whatever reason it is not written down in my journal. It must have been late fall because in my journal entry I talk about it being very cold the night of the football game.

As all attending high school students know Homecoming is a huge event for the school and the students. For the Seniors it was a big deal, it was the beginning of the end of our high school lives. In the next 8 months (or less) we would all be walking across that stage graduating and moving on with our plans for the future, some people we would keep in touch with others, others wouldn't, reguardless though Homecoming was one of our last big events together as a class. In my case I would give birth to my baby, hope to keep up at home while post-partum, and then walk across that stage.

To this very day I can still picture my dream of graduation day:
But that is another post for another day.

So when it came time for Homecoming I was finally not feeling so sick all the time, but I just wasn't sure I wanted to go. My friends all couldn't believe that I would miss Homecoming. When they asked why I never had a good reason. A lot of times I would just say I wasn't sure how I was going to feel. Honestly though I was horrified at the idea of getting a dress. By the time Homecoming rolled around I had started to gain weight. Now is where I probably need to explain that before I got pregnant I was 5ft 1in, and weigh about 98 lbs. I was a tiny little thing, so any weight on my little frame caused me to become pretty self conscious.

Finally I agreed to go to not only the Homecoming game (that I would never have missed, to this day I love high school football games) but to the Homecoming Dance as well. Oh my now I HAD to find a dress. To say that finding a dress was difficult would be the under statement of the century. I went into every store that sold Homecoming dresses that year. Unfortunately the style of dress that was popular that year was pleated at the belly, cut very tight across the chest, and flared more towards the bottom. Not a good look for someone who was beginning to put on weight and was early in a pregnancy. But yet everywhere we went that was the stinking style. (But then again that is just the kind of luck I have!!!)

There were more tears shed in dressing rooms that day then I had shed in my life up until that point. I would go into the dressing room, Tina would hand me a dress, I would try it on, I would be so embarrassed that I wouldn't even let her see it on me. Store, after store, after store my faithful companion would do this for me. It was horrible, being so tiny I never had a problem finding clothes that would fit me. This was a disaster, and I was coming unraveled quick. (darn those pregnant emotions) Finally we agreed to stop and get something to eat because I hadn't really eaten much all day. And I think Tina was afraid that if I didn't stop crying I would dehydrate or something.

Tina was so smart, because once we stopped for lunch, and began looking again I was feeling so much better. This was the first sign that I was really pregnant as far as my appearance went. Up to this point I was still wearing (ok squeezing) into my jeans and just wearing my shirts un-tucked (which by the way was NOT the style back then), so I hadn't really given much thought to the fact that my body was starting to change. I guess it was during this shopping trip specifically that I knew my body was never going to be the same again. (and it hasn't been) I remember sitting in Jerry's Pizza & Subs and crying to Tina that my body was changing and it scared me. Tina, bless her heart, she never said a word (I think she knew better) she just smiled and told me to eat. I can now look back and realize that she knew what I was saying was...I am pregnant and I am scared to death I am going to fail at this and my body changing doesn't scare me as much as everything that is still to come. I will always love her for not probing me on that, for just letting it go. We both knew what I was saying without me having to actually say it.

Once my belly was full, I had plenty to drink (in case of more tears), and I had peed a million times in the 20 minutes it took us to eat, we were off again looking for dresses. Finally we went into Woodie's and Tina found a very cute 2 piece outfit. I almost kissed her. It was purple (my favorite color at that time), it had a button up top with cute little silver button on it, it had some silver on the trim, and it was simple. It was not old lady looking, and it wasn't the tight fit style we had seen in the other stores. Now do they have my size? Hooray, Oh Happy Day!! They had my size in both the top and skirt. So I took them and off to the dressing room I went, I was so giddy. I had given up hope and accepted that me not being able to find a dress was God's way of saying you are not a child anymore, Casandra. I felt like God was saying Casandra grow up and face the reality...you are 17 and having a baby, you don't get to do fun things like Homecoming anymore.

Into the dressing I go to try on my find. (ok Tina's find) I pull the skirt on...yippee...it fit. I put the top on and began to button it up. Oh My God are you kidding me? The buttons gap open, my boobs are too big for the top. Here come the tears again...a waterfall is more like it...I sit on the floor in utter frustration and cry. Tina peeks in and asks me what was wrong I stand up to show her, and she laughs. SHE LAUGHS!!! I throw myself back on the floor in tears, hurt, and murderous intent. I am bawling my eyes out and my best friend in the whole world is laughing at the gaping buttons on the only outfit I can find for Homecoming. I am horrified, it makes me cry harder...and harder...and harder. By this point she is trying to calm me down, and says please don't take that the wrong way. What the heck do you mean...don't take it the wrong way...I ask. You just laughed your butt off at me because this top is too small, and I am not suppose to take it the wrong way!!!

About that time Tina helps me up off the floor, and says she will check to see if there is another size in the top. Off she goes and leaves me alone to ponder why my sweet hearted best friend would laugh at me like that. I was so hurt, and angry...kill her ran through my mind several times. Anyway she was back in a jiff and thank God they had the top in the next size up. I tried it on, and although it was a little big and would need the sides pulled in a bit, it did at least button without gaping. I was feeling so much better but was still ready to kill Tina. I got dressed and marched out of the dressing room right passed her. She jumped up and took off after me, I was walking as fast I could to get away from her. I got to the register paid for my outfit, and left the store. The whole time Tina said nothing but she did not leave my side either.

Finally I turned to her and said... you better say your sorry. Why did you laugh at me, you know I was having a hard time finding something anyway. You hurt my feelings. Tina stopped walking looked me dead in the eye and said...Casandra now you know how it feels to be me. (Did I mention at that time Tina was 5 ft 7in about 120 lbs with a double E (yes E) chest?) At that point even I began to laugh, what girl doesn't want that problem?

Hopes, Dreams, and Nightmares...

This will probably be a pretty hard post for me, but I am going to do it anyway. I am going to for the first time ever talk about the hopes, dreams, and nightmares I had for my baby and for myself. This is a place I haven't really allowed myself to go for a long, long, long time. But it is part of my story and I think it might be important for me to include it.

The hopes...

I hoped that I could carry my pregnancy to term, with no more complications. I hoped that he/she would be healthy at birth and would live a lifetime of good health. I hoped that I could take Doug at his word. I hoped that he was going to stay with me and give my baby the two parent home he/she deserved. I hoped that I could finish high school and at some point make something of myself. I hoped that I my family and Doug's family would accept my pregnancy, and love my baby. Most of all I hoped that I could really make this work, that this was a fairy tale with a happy ending.

The dreams...

I dreamt of a baby girl (yes, that part did come true) that looked exactly like me. I dreamt of a little girl with eyes so blue you couldn't find your way out once you were lost in them. I dreamt of a baby girl with blond hair and curls that would bounce when she giggled. I dreamt of a baby girl that would squeal in delight when I tickled her tummy. I dreamt of a baby girl that would come running to her mommy when she had a bad dream. I dreamt of a baby girl that would yell ma ma ma to get my attention. I dreamt of a baby girl that would ask me how much I love her. I dreamt of a baby girl that loved me for no other reason than because I was her mommy. I dreamt of a little girl that knew no matter what she could count on me as her mommy to be there for her. I dreamt of a baby girl that would shop with me, gossip with me, and that would share her childhood with me. I dreamt of a baby girl that always knew that no matter what went wrong her mommy would fix it. I dreamt of baby girl with a mommy that could meet her needs, wants, and desires. I dreamt of a baby girl that brought a ray of sunshine to the lives of everyone she met. I dreamt if a baby girl that would honor her mommy on her big days because I had always been there for her. I had so many big dreams for my baby...

For myself...I dreamt of nothing more than loving her. I dreamt of knowing how to make choices that would be best for her. And in the end how do you ever know what is going to be best?

The nightmares...

I was so afraid of failing her. I was so afraid of making the wrong choices for her. I was so afraid that I she wouldn't know how much I love her. I was so afraid that Doug would leave her without a daddy. I was so afraid that I wouldn't know when she was sick. I was so afraid I wouldn't be able to keep her alive. I was so afraid that she would hate me for any reason. I was so afraid she would follow in my foot steps. I was so afraid that Doug's parents wouldn't accept her, or that my parents wouldn't either. I was so afraid that one day she would ask me why I got into this position in the first place. I was so afraid that she wouldn't understand that sometimes as parents we do things we regret, but that once they are done we cant change them.

I loved (love actually) my baby more than I could ever put into words. I had always had an intense maternal instinct. I have a sister 7 years younger that I helped my mom raise, and I love her like my own. But this baby was different, she was mine. I knew that if I screwed this up I had no one to blame but myself. Yet, I was willing to give it the best shot I had. No, in the end I didn't because i felt like the best shot she had was the chance at a different life. I am not going to go into that part yet, because it isn't time. But I will when we get to that part of my story.

This baby for me was a chance to turn a mistake into a wondrous joy. It was proving to myself that although yes I messed up by getting into this position, I could make it right by being the best mommy to my baby I could be. I often have wondered over the years if maybe I even messed up that part with the choice I made...but honestly how will I ever know what could have been?

Sorry About The Spacing...

I am not quite sure why, but the spacing on my last post is all messed up. I have gone in and adjusted it several times, but it just keeps going back. So please accept my apologies on the spacing for that post.

The only thing I can think of is that if people are reading the post maybe it won't allow me to fix it, so I will try again later tonight. Otherwise I may be stuck with it. Sorry once again.

The Bio Dad...

Let me begin by saying this...I use the term bio-dad for him because I find it to be a negative term. There are other negative terms I would prefer to use when describing my daughter's bio-dad, but I am trying to keep this clean and tactful. My daughter (the child this story is about) sometimes will call me her bio-mom. She knows I hate it, but she uses at times to differentiate between her adoptive mom and myself. Every time I hear her say bio-mom it sends me into a tailspin of self-doubt and hurt.

This is why...

My daughter's adoptive parents have spent a lot of time trying to convince her that the biology that she has doesn't really mean anything. That most of who she is and how she does things were because of her environment while growing up. That the biology she and I share has little to do with who she is. That child is a carbon copy, spitting image, mirror imagine, mini me replica of myself. Her looks, her personality, her mannerisms, everything about her screams me. I included a picture of the two of us during the second day of our first face-to-face visit, so that you can see how very much she looks like me.

So when I hear her refer to me as her bio-mom (although I understand why she does it) it in some way drives home that point. That the biology really doesn't mean anything. Now to be fair to my daughter I know that she does not feel that way, that is just me being insecure with my place in her life. I know when she uses it it really is a term of endearment (kind of) more than a something she says to be negative about me and my role in her life. So I hate the term bio-mom, and for that very reason I chose to use it for talking about Doug. I know that sounds mean, but it better than some of the others I would rather use.

The real reason for this post...

I have hardly mentioned Doug, the bio-dad, because this is my story. Not his, and certainly not ours...it is mine. I know that may seem very selfish because obviously it took both of us to create this child, but I have never really thought about her belonging to him. He gave up that right when he not only walked out on me at 7 1/2 months pregnant, but again when she reached out to him for reunion and he denied her. So I really don't want to jump ahead on my story, but I have had a lot of people ask me where the bio-dad is in all of this.

So I am going to give these details about him:

I had been dating him for almost 2 years before I got pregnant with my daughter. no I am not justifying the fact that I got pregnant, I am simply explaining the situation. We had an excellent relationship up until I got pregnant. He was everything you dream your first love will be. (again until the pregnancy happened.) He was ecstatic about the pregnancy through most of it. He was put under a lot of pressure by his parents to end the relationship and try to get me to end the pregnancy. I do believe he loved me and my baby...at least in the beginning. I think in the end he loved himself more and that won out. Once he walked out of the relationship he was gone...period...there was never another conversation or anything until the birth of the baby (and that I will go into later). He was there with me through my miscarriage scare, and many other trying times. I just don't mention him in my story because that is exactly what this is...my story. I will consider adding more of him to my story, but I probably won't. I will bring him in during the parts where he plays a big role, but other than that I just want this to be my story as a birth mom.

I hope everyone reading can understand why I feel this way...

How I Wished I Had Paid Better Attention...

The date is Oct 26 and the day is a Wednesday (I only know that because I did keep a journal of my pregnancy and I have had to refer to it, although most of this all from memory) I woke up feeling yucky as usual. I laid in bed patiently waiting for my stomach to settle enough so that I could take my shower and get ready for school. I had a big test on Friday in World History that I had spent a lot of time studying for. Also I had spent some time the night before rearranging my room so that we could begin to find a place for the baby stuff that we were going to need. I was not really worried about passing the test because I loved History, I was more worried about making it through the class. (Darn that stupid school cafeteria.) Anyway, I laid in bed and my stomach stopped rolling long enough for me to make it to the bathroom. As most of you that have been pregnant know peeing was always the top priority in the AM. So I begin to lower my panties and sheer terror strikes. There is blood in my panties, I sit to pee and there is more blood when I wipe. By that point I am scared to death that I am having a miscarriage. I holler to my mom to come into the bathroom, the moment she walked in her face went white. She went running for the phone, to call the doctor. All I could do was pray, beg, and plead with God not to take my baby. Telling God that I knew I had no business getting pregnant at my age, but to please not to take that out on my baby. It isn't the baby's fault. I promise you, God, if you don't take my baby I will be the best mommy I can to him/her, and I will always put this baby's wants and needs first. (Amazing how those words spoken at such a heartwrenching moment can come back to haunt you when you must decide what is truly best for your baby.) Just please don't let my baby die. Those were the prayers and bargains that I made with God that day.

My mom was told to bring me to Dr Siegel's office right away. So off we went to find out what was happening. I was shocked because there was no sitting in the waiting room, there was no pee in this cup, there was no the doctor will be in shortly. I was immediately taken back to an exam room, told to remove my clothes from the waist down, and put this gown on with the split in the front. My mom was told to let them know as soon as I had the gown on. I undressed as quickly as possible, Mom let them know I was ready, and in flew Dr Siegel. He did an exam said that he is slightly concerned and that he wanted to do a sonogram. So he actually walked with me into the sono room, had me lay on the table, ran the wand over my belly, and said...your baby is going to be okay. (I think that I finally began breathing again at that moment, I didn't even realize I had been holding my breath.) He pointed out Mr Peanut's heart beat, looked at my placental sack, did some measurements, and then gave me the biggest lecture I have ever had once I told him that I had been moving furniture around the night before.

That is the very moment that I realized I wasn't invincible and my baby certainly wasn't either. Placenta Previa, the 2 words I paid no attention to 2 weeks before, had come back to haunt me. Apparently with placenta previa you shouldn't be doing any lifting, tugging, or pulling. I did not understand how very dangerous it could be to my baby, nor did I pay that close attention at my last doctor's visit to what Dr Siegel had to say about it. I was 17 I could barely say it let alone comprehend what could happen because of it. I learned several very important lessons that day:

1. I was only 17 but I had made an adult choice to have a baby, it was time for me to take it seriously, I was no longer afforded the ability to put myself first. (It was then I understood my mom's tears over my lost childhood)

2. Not only was I pregnant at 17 but I also found myself facing a potentially life threatening situation to my baby in my pregnancy.

3. I wanted my baby more than I had ever wanted anything else in this world.

4. I needed to listen to my doctor he does know what he is doing and saying.

5. I was only 17 and even though I thought I had memorized those books on pregnancy, I hadn't. So I needed to spend more time learning what to do, what not to do, and what to expect.

6. Most importantly...If I needed Dr Siegel for an emergency, he wasn't going to keep me waiting.

After the lecture, and my promises to take it easy. I was told to go home, put my feet up, and stay in bed for the next 2 days. But wait...I thought. I have a test at school, Friday night is a football game, and I had plans with Doug and his family on Saturday night. (Notice how quickly lesson #1 went by the wayside!) My mom told me that none of that mattered, if I didn't want to lose my baby I had no other options. So home is exactly where she took, and home is where she made me stay until Monday morning when I was finally allowed to go back to school.

Tina, my dearest sweetest friend, came over and sat with me. We played games, we talked, we gossipped, and we watched TV. Each time she had to leave to go home, to school, or work I was felt feeling so incredibly alone. I was (and still am) such a social person and to be cut off from the rest of the world was not my idea of fun. When Tina was in school, and my mom was at work is when I would really begin to think about my baby. How small it was , how much further I had to go, how much I loved my baby, and how very much I wanted my baby to arrive healthy. Sometimes I would cry from the emotion of it all (or the hormones, whichever), it really was very overwhelming for me at 17. But I also began to realize that weekend that even though I was cooped up in the house with no social life at all, I never regretted being pregnant with my baby.

This was the weekend that I finally allowed myself to really begin to dream. To dream about what my baby would look like, what his/her personality would be like, how much I wanted to be the best mommy ever, how he/she would love me with a fierce undying love because I was her mommy, and how I would watch her grow and find her way in the world. I finally knew it what meant to love someone more than I loved myself, I finally knew what it meant to put the needs of your child first, and I finally knew that come Hell or high water I could do this...I could be the best mommy possible to my baby. It hit me with a ton of bricks but I knew in those quiet moments I was alone and it was just my baby and I, that there was nothing I wouldn't do for him/her. That if I had to lay down my life for him/her that was exactly what I was prepared to do. That I wanted my baby to know what it meant to be able to count on his/her mommy to be there for him/her always. (Yes looking back these hopes and dreams I had have hurt a lot when I realize that I allowed someone else to do it for me.)

So still with 6 1/2 months of my pregnancy left I became my baby's mommy, and I shed what was left of my own childhood...for no one other than my baby.

Why Is Mr Peanut In The Spot Where My Baby Should Be....

On Oct 12, 1989 I had my second ob visit and sonogram. As always it began with taking the little cup into the bathroom and trying to pee into the cup instead of all over myself. Let me just say I was new to doing this and seemed to have an issue with how to do it. This is the point in which I must tell you that I was a very girly girl, so the idea of urinating on my hand while I held the cup was not very pleasant. But somehow I managed to do it almost every time, and each time I would be just as grossed out as the time before. So nope I must say I never got used to peeing all over my hand while I held that stupid cup.

Once that was done, and I had washed my hands for like 15 minutes, I was placed into an exam room. I hated waiting for Dr Siegel to come into the room, it always seemed to take forever. (ok so I'm not the most patient person in the world.) On this visit the wait was worse because I knew that I was going to be having a sonogram done after the exam and I couldn't wait to see my baby on the screen. (I had just about read "What to expect when your expecting" from cover to cover by the time that 2ND appointment came around. Plus I had bought several other pregnancy books as well, all read and memorized.) So, I was very patiently, okay not so patiently, waiting for Dr Siegel to come in and examine me, so that I could have the sonogram done.

The nurse comes in and asks me a million questions which I am sure I answered with an attitude that only a 17 year old can have. I was told that the doctor would be in shortly. Shortly...I asked? But I have an appointment at 2:30 and it is almost 2:50 why am I waiting on him? (See I told you that I had a bit of an attitude that day!!) The nurse told me that Dr Siegel had had some emergencies that morning and was running late, and that he would be in shortly. (Then I am sure she went in and labeled my file with PITA, Pain In The Ass, with bright red letters!!!) After what seemed like hours and hours, but was really only about 5 minutes Dr Siegel came walking in.

He began asking me a bunch of questions. By now I am getting so frustrated and I KNOW my attitude was off the charts. I didn't care about cramps (didn't have any), I didn't care about any spotting (didn't have that), and I certainly didn't care to know that I had gained almost 3 pounds in 4 weeks. What I did care about was moving this along so that I could finally see my baby. Of course we had to do the whole measurement thing first. (oh would you look at that you are becoming a whale, Casandra. Oh how nice of you to point that out to me Dr Siegel, I knew there was a reason I liked you...NOT!!!) Then he felt around on my belly for God only knows what. (ok so I hadn't completely memorized the books, but I did read them.) He asked me a few more questions, that I am sure I answered with the disgust that only a very impatient 17 year old can have. Gave me a glass of water and told me to drink at least one but would like me to drink several. What on God's green earth for...I asked? His response was you need a full blatter for your sonogram. Oh ok I can do that, anything to see my baby.

Next...

He told me to go into the next room push my pants below my belly and he would be in shortly. Shortly? What the heck? I had appointments scheduled for this, where was he going now? Why couldn't he just follow me into the next room. Geesh, I just want to see my baby and all this office wants to do is try to kill me with the waiting game. So of course I go into the next room and wait again not so patiently. I must have stepped out of the room with my pants unbutton and unzipped a hundred times and asked if I had been forgotten. I was always told no that Dr Siegel would be in shortly. I would grunt Oh My God I hate waiting...my parents are not paying him so that I can wait around for him. (Told you that I probably had PITA written in my chart, it was probably in bold, highlighted, circled, underlined, and maybe even in italics.)

Finally...

Dr Siegel walks into the sono room and tells me to lay down. The moment I lay down I look up at the ceiling and see a cartoon that has been blown up into an 8x10. It was a picture of a pregnant girl and inside the belly of the girl was the shape of the placental sack but instead of there being a baby in that sack it said...I forgot my pill! I couldn't help but laugh, and for whatever reason I have always remembered that cartoon. Anyway, about now Dr Siegel tells me that he is going to squirt some gel on my belly. Well he could have warned me that it was going to be cold, that he had specifically shipped it in from the South Pole for my sonogramming pleasure. (I bet the nurse did put it in the fridge right after putting PITA on my chart.) Once the shock and delirium of near hypothermia was over he placed a wand on my stomach. By now he was explaining everything that he was seeing and doing. He rolls the wand across my belly to what appears to be Mr Peanut in a bag. He boldly looks at me and says...That is your baby. What the...???!!!??? That can't possibly be my baby, it looks like Mr Peanut. This doctor is a quack!! I am telling my mom as soon as I get home to find me a doctor that knows what he is doing, because this one doesn't even know my baby from Mr Peanut.

I told Dr Siegel to quit kidding with me, and show me what my baby really looks like. I remember him laughing and asking if I had read any of the book he gave me. I told him yes I had that I had memorized it, or so I thought anyway. He simply stated well then maybe it is time to look at the pictures in the book as well. He pointed to what appeared to be a very tiny butterfly sitting on Mr Peanut, you see that he asked. I told him of course I can see it I'm not blind. (Gotta love the attitude of a 17 year old.) That is your baby's heart beat, at your next visit we should be able to hear it. My heart sung...I was going to get to hear my baby's heart beat, I couldn't wait. I loved my baby already even if it did look exactly like Mr Peanut.

Dr Siegel got very quiet while he did all of Mr Peanut's... uhmm I mean my baby's... measurements and told me that the baby was measuring at 8 weeks along. So his original guess of a date was way off, he had me at 9 weeks then. But also I know now that was based on the info I gave him about my last day of my last period and about the first day of my missed period. So I can admit this now, but I was embarrassed by it then... I was happy because I thought I had missed out on a huge part of my pregnancy. Dr Siegel pulled out his handy dandy pregnancy calendar (a little wheel that he spun this way and that) and told me that my due date was May 4th. I was elated...even though I was going to be giving birth to what appeared to be Mr Peanut I had a date to write on the calendar of when I could expect his/her arrival. Oh Happy Day!!!

Dr Siegel then told me that I had something called placenta previa, and that it could actually be a serious issue. That if I started having cramps, started bleeding, or anything felt out of the norm to please all his office right away. That I needed to be careful about lifting and pushing things, and try to make sure I gave myself down time. I agreed to call if something came up, but honestly thought I was invincible and so was my baby. Needless, to say I did not pay too much attention to that, and thank God it never caused me too much trouble. Dr Siegel handed me 3 sonogram pictures and told me to make another appointment again in 4 weeks.

I couldn't wait to get home to show Tina, my mom, my sister, my boss (well honestly anyone who would let me) the pictures of my Mr Peanut. I remember asking Tina if she thought that meant it was going to be a boy? You know because it looked so much like Mr Peanut. All she said was...Who knows...maybe.

Well I didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. I loved and wanted my baby, so it's sex did not matter. If God had come out of the sky and I told me I could chose the sex of my baby I would have asked for a girl. A little princess to call my daughter, in my mind she would have blue eyes, blonde curly hair, fair skin and would be a spitting image of her mommy. But I knew God wasn't going to ask for my choice of sex, and I also knew that genetically speaking my Mr Peanut was going to have brown hair, brown eyes, olive skin, and probably be a spitting imagine of its father. I had all the recessive genes and the father had all the dominate genes. So I could only hope that it was healthy and had the required body parts because chances were very slim that my Mr Peanut would look like me at all. (oh how God can prove one wrong!!!)

Golden Girls

Telling My Friends...

Once the pregnancy was confirmed and the 2nd visit set up as well as a sonogram, I figured it was time to tell my friends. Keep in mind I was 17 as were most of my friends. To some of them this was just too cool and to others it was a disgrace.

The friends who did not think it was cool, in the end I lost their friendship. They had hopes and dreams of going to college and making something "big" of themselves. They certainly did not want to be caught hanging out with a pregnant girl.

The ones who thought it was just so cool, stuck by me until the newness wore off. Then their friendships too went by the wayside. They had lots of excuses not to invite me along anymore. Again I looked back and realize they didn't like my reality either.

My closest friend, Tina, stood by me through it all. Never once did she leave my side. She wiped my tears, hugged me when I needed it, gossipped with me, and was just there...ALWAYS!!! For her that was no major feat because she had hated Doug from the very moment she laid eyes on him. To this day I remember her saying I don't know what it is about him but I just can't seem to make myself like him. She tried very hard for my sake, she was my best friend and had been for the last 2 1/2 years. I knew she wasn't going anywhere, she promised to try to put her feelings aside for me. She would rub my belly (the only person outside of Doug i would allow to touch my belly) and say I can't believe we are having a baby. Tina was my rock, the very foundation on which I built the ability to know that I could do this.

She loved me, and she loved my baby...but she HATED Doug. To give her the credit she deserves she never once had "words" with Doug. And even when things were bad between Doug and I she never interfered (even though she probably should have on several occasions). Tina gave me the courage to face everyday at school when I knew that the other kids were talking. She helped me through my darkest days of wondering how we are going to make this all work. never once did she tell me that I was stupid nor did she ever tell me that I was crazy to try to raise this baby. Tina's encouragement allowed me to keep up with "normal" life, and yet try to still be a 17 year old girl.

One of My and Tina's favorite rituals was to sit together and watch "Golden Girls", I always called her Sophia and I was her "Blanche". We would eat junk (usually whatever I was craving that night) and watch the weekly episodes in the dark. When the show would begin we would sing the theme song at the top of our lungs, giggling the whole time. I loved those quiet moments with her, it was the only time I could be a 17 year girl that was having a baby and not have to worry what she was thinking of me or the situation I had found myself in. The "Golden Girls" theme song became the theme song for our friendship. There were a few times she sang it to me just to cheer me up (although she may never admit it).

I have never ever taken the time to thank Tina for what she did for me all those years ago. Nor for what she has done for me since and to this day continues to do for me. She has been my biggest fan even when I wasn't a fan of myself. She has loved me even when I didn't want to be loved. But most of all she has always been there to support me, and for that...Tina, I owe you more than I could ever repay you. Thank you for being my best friend and never letting me down. I love you with all my heart and would be lost without you.

To you Tina I dedicate this next post:

Oh The Morning Sickness...

It always amazes me every time I stop to think about it, but I never had a moment of morning sickness until after my pregnancy was confirmed. I am not sure if denial is that powerful or if the morning sickness truly just hadn't begun yet. But I can tell you that about 3 days after my pregnancy was confirmed the morning sickness began. I never threw up too much with it, but Lord I prayed many times I would. I would hover over the toilet for what seemed like hours in the morning before school, wondering how on earth I was going to make it through the school day. Somehow though I would always manage to pull myself together enough to get on the bus and go to school.

Once I was at school my stomach would settle down until my 2 period class. (Let me tell you just thinking back on this part makes my stomach start rolling) My second period class was World History and it was right outside the school cafeteria. Yep, you guessed it being that we had an 8 block schedule second period was the class just before lunch. I would sit in class and could smell the food cooking in the cafeteria and wonder how I was going to keep from throwing up all over my desk. The ironic thing is that even if i did throw up there was nothing that would come up because I couldn't even stand the thought of breakfast in the mornings. So needless to say I would dread my second period class every other day. Once the bell rang I would bolt to my locker which was in the basement of the building just to get away from the smells of the cafeteria. I am not sure how I did it or how good it was for either me or the baby but I am not sure I ate much of anything for the next 2-3 weeeks.

Here is my worse morning sickness story:

It was November 4, 1989 it happened to be Doug's birthday and our 2 year anniversary. He decided that we are going to go out to dinner to celebrate. He chose his favorite place to eat which was Bare Bones in Gaithersburg. At this point the morning sickness had let up a little and I could eat and keep things down, but was not gone by any stretch of the imagination. So we go out to dinner and I ordered a rib eye steak (do not ask me why), baked potato, and a veggie (i don't remember what veggie). I ate the meal and we are sitting talking waiting for the check and suddenly out of no where my stomach just starts rolling. I mean ROLLING, the kind of rolling that happens when you know that what you just ate isn't going to stay down. I told Doug to hurry up that I thought I was going to be sick. I attempted to stay at the table and convince myself that it would be okay. Well, after about I don't a few minutes I knew it wasn't going to stay down. I jumped up knocked over every glass on the table and went running for the bathroom. Your right in about 3 minutes I was flushing what was left of my $17.99 steak down the toilet. I was so horribly embarrassed to have thrown up in a public bathroom. I came out of the bathroom and Doug took one look at me and told me to get in the car and he would take me home.

Once we were in the car he proceeded to berate me for wasting $18.00, that we couldn't afford to do that with a baby on the way. I told him I was sorry that I had no way of knowing that I wouldn't be able to keep my dinner down. I also reminded him that he chose the restaurant not me, that I probably would have chosen someplace else. Especially since I knew I had been having such horrible morning sickness. He had a fit, and yelled the whole way back to my mom's, and walked me into the house still yelling. I told him I thought that since I was feeling so miserable that maybe he should just go home, that I was going to go to bed. He told me not to tell him what to do ever again, a big fight ensued...and that was the first time he hit me.

To Help You Understand...

I just want to explain to everyone that I am doing this blog for me. I am willing to share my story with the people who love and support me, but I will not tailor my emotions or words to suit the needs of people reading it.

For the first time in 18 years I have unlocked the door to my Pandora's box and am willing to talk about this. I can not be afraid to offend anyone, hurt anyone, or worry about other peoples memories being different from mine. Because trust me I know exactly how my story goes. I have lived it, ate it, slept it, drank it, and have been breathing it for the last 18 almost 19 years. The memories on my story have never faded, changed or been forgotten. Locked away from everyone...yes...forgotten, faded, or changed...NEVER!!!

So with all that being said please either read it for what it is, which is my desire to tell my story or simply just don't read it at all. I am coming across a bit strong I know, but I have had a few e-mails already telling that some details I have told are not being remembered correctly. That is simply them not knowing or not wanting to remember (which truly is the latter). I knew when I chose to tell my story that it might cause some havoc over the details (since it has been 18 years some people think that I may have forgotten what really happened), but the reality is I have never forgotten a single detail of this. As I have already said I can close my eyes and easily transport myself right back to these moments that are over 18 years old.

I have only told 2 people in the entire 19 (almost) years since it has happened this story. Those 2 people are the baby that made this story possible and my counselor. That is it...I had family and friends with me while it was going on, but outside of the people that were there, this baby, and my counselor the rest of you are hearing it all for the very first time. It is really hard to do this, but I want to tell my story. The emotions that have welled up inside me have been overwhelming, but very very theraputic. I never really allowed myself to mourn the loss of this baby, and I will go into that in later posts. So for the first time ever not only am I telling people what transpired, why I made the chioce I did, but I am finally going to put names on the emotions that I have felt and locked away for the last 19 years. For some of you this may be morbid curiosity, to be able to enter the mind of a child that gave her baby up for adoption, for others it may be helpful because you deal with me on a regular basis. For whatever the reason would be that you choose to read my story, know that this is a huge part of how I became the person I am today.

This baby and this story has been woven into the very fiber of my being. I couldn't change the details or the story if I wanted to. This is a huge part of who I am as a person, and how I have defined my life. So once again please either read it with an open heart or don't read it at all. This is the one area of my life that I will not pull punches on or fight about how it really went. The absolute honesty is...no one else has lived this dream/nightmare but me.

Let Me Start With The (+) Pregnancy Test...

It has been 18 almost 19 long years and I can still remember the day I realized I might be pregnant like it was yesterday. (I can still to this very day close my eyes and be able to see the doctor's office, smell the way it smelled, and hear the nurse calling my name to be seen.) I knew my period was late but I chose to ignore it, thinking that there was no way I was pregnant. It was late August 1989 and 3 days before I was to begin my senior year of high school. I thought my period was late because I was stressed out about school. About 4 weeks later I realized that I still hadn't gotten my period. I still wasn't scared though, I have never had regular cycles anyway. Another 2 weeks went by still no period, uh oh I realized maybe there was a chance I could be pregnant. Finally after being about 7 weeks late I told my mom.

My boyfriends name was, Doug. Let me say this first...by the time I even began to suspect I was pregnant Doug & I had been dating for almost 2 years. In my mind this was a serious relationship, and of course I did expect that it would last. So because I was young I thought we were in this together forever.

Enough on him and what was once our relationship. I just wanted to give everyone a glimpse into the fact that we had not had a one night stand or even a short term relationship. That he was someone that I thought I was deeply in love with and had committed my life to (ahhh...the wonders of first love)...

So I told my mom that I was like 6 weeks late getting my period, maybe even more. Of course the first thing she asked was if I was pregnant. I told her I didn't know, but that I could be. She had a fit, and looking back justifiably so. She ranted and rave about protection, what was I thinking, and why did I let this happen. I remember thinking...Geesh, you are a fine one to talk...You had me at 17...like mother like daughter...what is the big deal you did it and I turned out okay (which I knew wasn't true)...stop lecturing me on protection don't you think it is a little late for that..and a lot of other very horribly defensive things. But instead all that froze on my tongue because what actually came out was...Mom I'm scared and I am so sorry.

The very next day my mom stayed home from work and began a quest for a doctor that could at least give me a pregnancy test...and soon. Finally she found Dr Mark Siegel and he had a cancellation and could see me as soon as she could get me there. Mom came rushing into my room and told me to get dressed she was taking me to the doctors.

I remember sitting in the doctors office while she filled out the medical papers, praying that I was wrong. Hoping that the minute I went in to pee in that cup my period would be there. Well, my name was called to go back into the exam room and my time to pray was over. Once I was put in the exam room I was handed a urine cup and told to go pee in it. A million things ran through my head in the alone moments I had in the bathroom. Once I was done peeing I handed the cup off to the nurse and was put back into the exam room. Dr Siegel came into the room and gave me the news. I was in fact pregnant. My heart stopped beating, and I stupidly said did you just tell me that I am pregnant? He chuckled a bit and said yes that is what I just said.

Now this whole time my mom was still sitting in the waiting room. She was told to sit there until they called her back. It was after Dr Siegel told me that I was pregnant then they called my mom back into the room. At this point Dr Siegel began asking me a series of questions...what was the first date of my last period? ? (how do I know really what 17 year old keeps track of that)...have I been exposed to any STDs? (not that I know of)... and on on the questions went. I was terribly embarrassed by a lot of them, even though I found myself pregnant at 17 i was still very modest about my body and sex (especially with a strange man asking me personal questions).

I looked at my mom to rescue me from his very personal questions and all she could say was this has only just begun Casandra Jo. I had not idea what she meant by that at all, but I was to soon find out. I was then handed a gown by Dr Siegel and told to remove all my clothing. I looked at my mom horrified, her reply was well this is what happens when you are going to have a baby. So Dr Siegel left the room and my mom helped me to undress. I need help undressing because once that door shut I began to sob. I am not talking cry...I am talking SOB!!! Deep gut wrenching sobs, mom told me to stop crying we would figure it all out.

Mom then open the exam room door and Dr Seigel returned. I laid down, put my feet in the stirrups and continued to cry. Dr Siegel did his exam and told me that he would guess me to be about 9 weeks along. Well what did that mean? I had no idea how many weeks you could expect to be pregnant. I was just a baby, with big hopes and dreams of being a lawyer, not of being an unwed mother. So Dr Siegel began telling me about the pregnancy and what I could expect. He gave me a book called what to expect when your expecting (which I still have to this very day), and told me to stop at the reception desk and make another appointment in 4 weeks and have her schedule a sonogram as well.

Once the next appointment was made mom and I both left the office in a daze. I could tell she was so angry and hurt...and I was so confused about what would come next. How was I going to tell Doug? What was he going to say? Would he stay with me and have this baby? Those were just a few of the million questions that were running through my mind. Mom asked me if I was hungry, I told her not really but she told me I needed to eat something. So we went across the street to MC Donald's, I ordered but couldn't eat a thing. I remember looking across the table at my mom and she suddenly just started crying. It tore my heart out to see her cry like that. She told me that she wanted better for me than this, and she cried about my now lost childhood.

I asked her if she would please call my dad and tell him. That i was just so emotionally overwhelmed that I just couldn't do it. To be honest now looking back I realize I copped out. I had already seen the disappointment on my mom face I could not handle hearing it in my dads voice. She told me that she would call him once we got home. Then we discussed what and when to tell Doug and his parents. Telling Doug scared me, but telling his parents terrified me. I never really had a good relationship with them to begin with. They didn't like that I had come from a broken and Doug had not, they just were not my biggest fans. I asked my mom is she would be with me when it came time to tell Doug's parents. At first she said no, that we made an adult choice to create a baby and we needed to handle it like adults. But in the end she did go with me.

I am not really going to go into what the conversation was between Doug and I because this is my story. But I will say that he seemed upset but was committed to staying with me and having the baby.

So once Doug as told and all the parents were told we had to begin to make a plan. Were we going to get married and keep the baby? Were we going to abort the pregnancy? Were we going to consider adoption? Well Doug and I both wanted to get married and raise our baby together. Abortion was not an option, and my god adoption who does that? Certainly not me. There was no way I was going to carry the baby for 9 months and then give her to strangers to raise. Anyone who thought I was going to do that was crazy. I am not heartless, I loved the baby already. What would my baby think if I put it up for adoption? It would think i didn't want or love it. NO NO NO I wouldn't even consider adoption. I shot down anyone who even tried to mention the word adoption to me. I was having the baby and raising it, and besides Doug wanted the baby too. There was no need to even talk about adoption. (Funny how fate works, huh?)

After we decided that we were going to keep the baby then came other questions like...would get married before the baby was born?...where would we live?...how would support ourselves? Would we finish school? (We were both seniors). It was decided that we would definitely finish school, we both already had jobs, we would check to see if we could go full time once we graduated, we would get married after the baby was born, we would try to juggle college and our jobs with help from the parents, and we would have to find a place to live. Somehow I was able to go to bed that night completely content with the plan we had made. I slept so well, and dreamt of having the baby and living happily ever after.

Where Do I Begin?

As I sit here wanting to begin telling my story I realize that I am in a dilemma. I'm not sure where to begin actually. So I am going to walk away from the computer and gather my thoughts on where to begin telling my story.

Wanting To Do This But Not Making Any Promises...

As all of you know I have now been in "reunion" with my biological daughter that was placed for adoption in May of 1990. The reunion has had some pretty high highs and some very low lows. My friends and family have spent a lot of time encouraging me to write my thoughts and feeling out, to in essence tell my story as a birthmom. After being in "reunion" for just a little over 2 months, well 9 weeks and 5 days to be exact, I am just now starting to feel not quite so overwhelmed with it all. I have run the entire gamete of emotions over the last 9 weeks, and most of the time allowing the bad ones to get the best of me. So I have now decided that since I am feeling a lot more settled in this "reunion", maybe it would be therapeutic for me to begin to journal my story. I can not make any promises that posts will be consistent because this is a very emotionally charged issue. However I do promise to tell my story even if it is at my own pace.

I want to warn everyone that may read this that there is a lot of hype about proper language to use when discussing the adoption triad. I will use terms like birthmom, adoptive mom, adoptive dad, my daughter, their daughter, and such. If you find this offensive, inconsiderate, or not appropriate terminology then please just don't read my story.