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.