Tuesday, March 3, 2009

My Story- Part Two

Time went on and I was rushed out of my parent's house. My mother and my son weren't able to bond with me there. My mom felt guilty and wasn't letting herself bond with my son. She could see how badly I was hurting which made her guilt even worse. How horrible is it that my son could hear my voice, smell my scent, but wasn't with me throughout most of the day, and had someone he didn't know take my place. My parents were constantly told that they needed to get me out of there and that if I stayed there I wasn't going to make that break from my son. They were so right; I didn't want to let him go. My mother had to choose between her daughter and now her son. Thank god she chose him. I felt neglected from my family which made my whole ordeal even harder. My mom I guess had to keep her distance from me. I felt like I lost my family along with my son.

I went back home every week for awhile, then it turned into every other week, and now once a month. In the beginning every time I'd leave I would wait until I got in the car and I would cry all the way home. That lasted for about four months and then it got easier. Every time I'd leave him it felt like the day I left him at the hospital... absolutely horrible.

After I signed my rights away I called an adoption agency to get a referral for a counselor. For a couple of months my counseling sessions were mostly going under damage control of the trauma I had gone through during my child hood and in high school. Those were things I had never dealt with and after I put my son up for adoption it was like everything hit me at once. Strangely, I never talked about my son. After three months I got passed the denial and realized my son was gone. That was the hardest session I had ever had. That night I began to have nightmares and I remember one very clearly. In my dream I would wake up to hear my son crying. I'd get up to go check on him in his room and there was nothing but his blanket. I could still hear him crying which soon turned into screams. I started panicking. I started calling his name out while I ran through a house that seemed never ending, empty, and dark. I then started to have a full blown anxiety attack that increased to where I thought my chest was going to explode. I then started to black out and couldn't see. His screams were getting louder and louder and I couldn't breathe. As I struggled within moments I'd wake up. This dream consisted for the next two months. My nightmares following after that were always about someone that I feared taking my son away from me. It mostly consisted of my ex, his mom, and strangers I didn't know. Afterwards I'd wake up crying, these dreams really affected me and made me so incredibly miserable. I remember one nightmare that I had a few times; I was carrying my son as I was running away trying to protect him from my ex and when I'd wake up my arms would ache. These dreams felt so real to me.

These nightmares, along with the reality of my son not being with me, I came to the point to where I thought I was going crazy and became suicidal. If it wasn't for my boyfriend's support, I would have done it. I felt like he was the only thing I had to live for and I couldn't do that to him. I remember sitting at my desk staring at my anti-depressant bottle and played out swallowing all the 15 pills that were left. I pictured myself passing out while having a seizure. Someone in the waiting room would notify the nurses back in pre-op and they would race out to get me. They wouldn't be able to save me and I'd die. Whenever I was driving I would picture crossing over to the other side and colliding with the oncoming traffic. I would have to take all my energy to try and snap myself out of it. I had mentally checked out. I thought I was going crazy and completely lost it. I called my mom and told her everything. She got me in to see a psychiatrist right away. The psychiatrist prescribed me medicine to help with my irritability, my mood swings, my anxiety attacks, my nightmares, and a sleep aide to help me sleep.

Along with these dreams and my suicidal thoughts, I started getting aches and pains all over my body, especially in my abdominal area. I began to fear never being able to have kids and I felt that I would be punished for what I did. On the other hand, my dieting had become so extravagant that it turned into an eating disorder. For seven months I was averaging maybe three to four hours of sleep a night and 900 calories a day. I'd work and attend classes and work out for at least two hours a day. I couldn't sit still and was irritable towards everything. The thing was I was completely out of control. My eating and working out was the only thing I felt like I was in control of. In the process I had lost 51 lbs, my baby weight and then some.

Things started looking up after awhile. I felt like I was finally getting over the big bump in the road. My eating was in control and I was finally able to sleep. Then Mother's day came and I remember feeling so out of place. Should I celebrate it or should I not? I discussed it with my mother, for awhile we wanted to start a new tradition that included me in it. The more I thought about it, the more it didn't seem right to me. Right before the day came I had decided that I would leave it up to my son whether he wanted to include me in celebrating Mother's Day as a mother, or not. I felt really good about that decision, however, it didn't make the day any easier. I called my mother to wish her a happy mother's day and she a replied with, "thank you! Do I tell you happy mother's day or what?" My boyfriend was wonderful that day. He took me out to breakfast and went for a walk down town. We later came home and watched movies... girl movies! He suffered through the movies but I don't think he realized how much just sitting through a chick flick meant to me. He helped a lot with keeping my mind off my son.

After mother's day I started panicking about my son's birthday. It was only a month and a half away and I couldn't stop thinking about it. The week before his birthday I was an emotional wreck. My crying had started back up again and my anxiety increased. In the beginning I was crying at least everyday. The girls at my work were very supportive and helped me out through it. I couldn't afford to buy my son anything so I wrote him a poem. One of the girls made a card and printed the poem in it. Now, my worst subject is English, so (I think) it's not very good, but it's the truth.

When we first met
I hate to admit, but I wept.
From the moment our eyes locked, eye to eye,
I thanked the heavens and realized God is not such a bad guy.
The love I felt I had never felt before,
Euphoria came over me right down to my deepest core.
He's a beautiful baby boy they would say,
I smiled as I thought "Now it's time to give him away."
I handed you over to your new mom and dad,
I knew from the beginning they were yours to be had.

They sent me up to my room up on the highest floor
I sat there and cried, but exactly what for?
As I place my hand over my tummy,
I had already missed being your mommy.
I went down to the nursery where you laid asleep,
I watched you, held you, rocked you, and began to weep.
I told myself, "What I'm doing is the right thing to do,"
"But what am I going to do without you?"

The day had come, the day I went to court,
With my stomach in knots and a lump in my throat.
They asked me a lot of questions and I did very well,
Ask mom and dad, they will tell.
I signed my parental rights away knowing this was the right thing to do.
I took a deep breath and whispered softly, "I'll never stop loving you."

Before your lungs could breathe and your eyes could see
Your little feet were walking all over me.
They took a journey, went far and wide.
They traveled to my soul, where they now reside.
With every second that passes, they make another move
With every day that ends, they did another groove
No matter how long or how far we are apart
Your tiny little foot prints are all over my heart.

The very last part a friend from one of my support groups shared with me. It was written by another birth mother (I don't know her name) and I fell in love with it. Every word of it is true. I revised it a little but it's all her words but my thoughts.

Before I went home I had e-mailed my mom telling her how I was having a really difficult time and that I needed my mom even if it was just for an hour. I had gone through all of it with out her and at the time I really needed my mom. The adoption had put a wedge between my mother and I. I would go days without talking with her and when I did I wanted to scream at her but I kept my cool. She would complain about being an older parent (she's 41) and how she won't ever be able to retire. She never complained about that when she had my younger sister (she's four). Up until she adopted my son, it seemed like that was all she complained about. I would remind her that she didn't have to adopt him and that I could have given him to another family. It just hurts every time she complains. Then there's the "will" thing. We had an agreement with my lawyer that they would make a will for my son stating that if anything were to happen to him, he'd come to me. To this day, it still hasn't be taken care of. She doesn't want to put that burden on me if anything were to happen today. She wants me to finish school and start a good career. I will be their (my sister and my son's) legal guardian but if I'm at a place where I can't support them, they'll go with my aunt until I can. I can live with that, I just hope and pray that doesn't happen. I can't stand the thought of someone else raising my son that's not me.

I hated her most days and loved her other days. It was really hard not being able to go "home" and have it feel like home. I felt like I didn't belong there and everything was different. Plus, seeing my son being mothered by someone other than me was/is extremely difficult. My step-dad didn't change. He always appeared to be very thankful that I gave him a son and very comforting. My dad was very, very supportive. He was always reminding me that my son will always be my son. I think he was pretty hurt in the beginning that I decided to have my mom adopt my son... to this day I don't know why. Anyway, she replied back pretty fast to my e-mail, normally she doesn't return my e-mails. She told me that we could get up early the next morning after I came and we'd go for a walk so that there weren't any distractions. She also mentioned how she didn't want to throw a big party for our son. She said she wanted the day to be about me and our son. It made me feel so good. It was exactly what I wanted.

I got home and my grandmother, my mom and I decided to have a margarita night. It was a lot of fun and I enjoyed spending time with them. The next morning I woke up and it was 9:00 am. I thought to my self, "Why didn't she wake me up?" I went out to the living room to find her sitting on the couch watching a movie. I asked her why she didn't wake me up and she simply said, "I wanted to sleep in." This may sound stupid, but it really hurt my feelings. I knew what she was doing, the same thing she has done the past year. She always avoids talking about how I'm feeling, doing, etc. The whole time I was there I felt like everybody was avoiding the topic of how I was really doing dealing with my son's first birthday. For me, it was the day I gave my son away, the day I lost him. I know they could tell I wasn't in high spirits, because I wasn't. I tried really hard to enjoy myself but I just couldn't. Inside I was torn a part. I felt like I was large pink elephant in the room that nobody was allowed to talk about. It was horrible, not one person asked me if I was ok. The next day my boyfriend drove down to celebrate my son's birthday. He got up early that morning to clean and drive down to be with me. When he called to tell me he was on his way the first think he asked is if I was ok. I just wanted to cry.

We ate dinner, played peek-a-boo, had birthday cake, I packed, and then I took off. I couldn't stand to be there a moment longer. It was eating away at me.

For the next two weeks I fell into a deep depression. I had so much anger towards my family and started to have regrets. Part of me regretted the adoption completely. I wanted him with me. Then the other part of me just regretted having my parents adopt my son. Maybe it would have been easier and better if I would have given him to another family.

I then had a long talk with my dad. I vented about my regrets, the will, and how hard everything was. He had said to me how he believed I could have done it on my own and that I would have made a very good mother, and that I am a good mother. To hear someone say that made me feel so good. He also reminded me how lucky I was. I get to be a part of his life and he's in a good home. I won't ever have to wonder how he's doing, if he's okay, if he's being treated the way I want him to be treated, if he's getting his needs met, etc. He was right but it took me another nightmare to get me to realize it. I had dreamt that my son was being raised by another family and they wouldn't let me see him. They wouldn't tell me if he was ok. Worst of all, they were letting my ex and his family be a part of his life. It was such a horrible feeling, worrying whether he was ok or not. I woke up and the first thought that came to my mind was, "thank god my parents adopted my son."

This has been a long hard road for me and it will never end. The bumps will lessen and the road will smooth out. This is something that will be with me for the rest of my life. I believe that I will be successful and live a happy life. I will be able to develop a strong bond and relationship with my son that other birth parents aren't able to have. My day will come when I'll be a parent and I can't wait for that (well I can). I will have hard days but I believe that I will be ok. I have to be ok for the sake of my son.

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