So my dad called me twice yesterday- of course I ignored them. In his first voicemail he said, "Hi Anna, just calling to see how you're doing, if you're doing better. I... I don't know what's going on... I don't understand why you're so angry. If it has to do with stuff from the past you need to let it go. It's already been dealt with- so let it go. Don't worry about coming tomorrow to look at dresses for the wedding, but your sister will not be coming up to stay with you (he had told my sister that she can't be around me until I get my shit together- she's 17). He went on a little longer..
Then in his second voicemail he said, "Anna, you need to be thinking about your son. You are his mother, and what you are doing to your mom is going to hurt your relationship with your son. Do you want that? You're mom called me very upset today. You really hurt her. Pushing people away because you're angry isn't healthy, and isn't going to get you anywhere. You need to be thinking about your son, you are his mother, don't do this to him."
AH!! After that second voicemail I was so pissed he tried to make me feel guilty by using MY SON! You want to know WHY my mom was so upset? Because her friends - the one I'm living with AND the one that works with my doctor- have been trying to give her advice (that she has been begging for) on how to help me, and what she's doing wrong. She is very angry with them, and according to my step dad, she feels like they are "attacking" her. I'm like... uh.. .she ASKED to hear the truth.
After speaking with both of her friends she called me Friday morning three times- and then left a voicemail crying saying how sorry she was that she hasn't been there for me this whole week. She said she was busy working, but she's not at work today. I mean she was crying hysterically saying how sorry she was, and to please forgive her. She also begged me to please call her back. So I spoke with my DR about it, and he told me he still doesn't want me speaking with her. I told him that I would like to at least let her know what's going on. So, he suggested I called her to let her know to give me space and that when I'm ready to talk then I"ll give her a call.
So I waited until I got home from my appointmetn to call her. Well her phone was shut off, so I tried the house phone. My grandma picked up and said she had gone out to run errands and that she would have her call me when she got home. She had also mentioned that she would be home in a couple of minutes. She didn't end up calling me back until 3:30pm.. this was 10:30am. The whole time I was just fuming. At first I felt that she was going to make me a priority- ya know? So, I felt a little bit better towards her, but for her to just take her sweet time with calling me back just pissed me off. So, she calls and asked "hows it going?" I told her, "not good," and went on saying how I had a lot of anger towards her and dad. I also mentioned how I figured out what has been wrong with me for the past 16 years, and how good it feels to know. She asked what.. so I told her the truth, "because of the abuse that was inflicted on me by you and dad." I then tried to tell her that I have a lot of emotions running through me and that I need time to place them together so that I can have a conversation with her... instead she absolutely freaks out on me telling me she did her best, and that she didn't "abuse" me. So I said, "no mom you really didn't, you just ignored everything, and with that, that's neglect which I believe is abuse." She procceeded to go off on me telling me that she is not responsible for the decision's I have made as an adult. I mean literally going off on me saying that she would not be held responsible- blah, blah, blah. I kept asking her what she was talking about? I didn't even mention about blaming any of the decisions I made as an adult on her. Which kind of says, she's guilty about something... Hmm... I WONDER WHAT?! Maybe for being so unsupportive with me raising my own son.
Well, she then asks, "well HOW have I neglected you?" I was like, "well mom, I open up and tell you that I was sexually abused as a child and what a difficult time I was having (this was Tuesday morning), and you hang up quickly because you arrived at work. You didn't call me, text me, nothing all week!" She has ALWAYS been chosing her work, her friends, and her husband over her kids. She then freaks out on me saying she had already apologized for that and that now it was my problem. She then said I don't want to talk to you.. so I said.. That's just fine, and hung up. I haven't heard from her since, but according to my dad and my step dad, she's a mess.
After that conversation I absolutely broke down. I was on my way to work.. once I parked my car I tried to clean myself up.. I walk in and my boss looks at me and says what's wrong. I broke down in front of everyone. I had another panic attack, so one of the ladies rushed to the back and got a nurse. How embarrassing.. I cried pretty damn hard. My boss then let me go home.
Well, I should have just listened to my DR.. I shouldn't have called her.
I then tried calling my step-dad on the way home. I just needed someone to talk to.. family.. and he was all I could think of. So, I call him crying, and I tell him that I just need someone to talk to. The first words that come out of his mouth were, "Well, can't you call your DR?"
Are you fucking kidding me? I have never felt so unloved.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
My Week From Hell.
Monday was the night for my support group (young adults with aspergers), and I decided to go. I hadn't been going because I wasn't feeling comfortable speaking about my issues with the other adults. I felt like I didn't quite "fit." Anyway, the major reason why I went was because back in January the Speech-Language Pathologist that runs the support group had asked me, David, and Ash to come and speak at the ASA (Autism Society of America). She wanted us to tell our story, what it was like growing up with aspergers, etc. I didn't prepare for it, because I didn't really know what we were doing. So I left early so that I could speak with the SLP (let me remind you, she has been a friend of my family since I was 8). She just told me to tell them what it was like growing up, my difficulties, and then to answer their questions. I told her to have David go first, since I wasn't prepared. During group I felt like I was going to burst, but it was a very weird feeling. Kind of like, you know something is going to happen, but aren't quite sure what it is (if that makes sense).
So, after group we drive down to the hospital where the meeting was being held, and waited for the parents to arrive. I remember the feeling getting stronger and stronger, but I tried hard to fight it off. David did an excellent job telling his story, and answering their questions (amongst 30 people). I thought to myself, this will be a piece of cake. So, it was then my turn. I started speaking, but I realized I had NO IDEA what to even say. A lot of my difficulties were associated with how I was treated by my parents, so I tried to wing it the best I could w/o having to say anything about the abuse my parents placed upon me. I remember thinking, "Oh my god, I don't belong here." You could tell I hadn't prepared, and I was a bit all over the place. I then came up to around the time I was 18; then all of a sudden, without me even thinking about it, I said, "I became pregnant." I immediately after I said those three words I began balling. I then said, "I had no support, none, and I was forced into placing my son up for adoption." I continued crying, and then said, "It's absolutely devastating that my parents couldn't support me parenting, but they were more than willing to raise him as their own." Cried some more, and then said, "Always, always, support you kids, no matter what the circumstance is, then need your guidance and support." Then I cleaned myself up and tucked my feelings back into my little container and sealed the lid. However, I felt like there was an earthquake about to take place inside my body.
I was able to stay longer after I spoke to answer some questions the parents had. The SLP told me she was getting ready to leave, but I had wanted to say a little longer to answer more questions. I asked if I could call her when I was done, so she gave me her number and left. As I was sitting there I looked around me. David had his parents with him, as well as Ash. I continued to observe and listen to their parents speak about the troubles they had with their kids, and how willing they were/are to do anything to help them in this world. Then there I was, alone. I didn't have any of that. I truly felt like I didn't belong there. So around 8:30pm I told everyone I was getting ready to leave, and took off. As soon as I got in my car I called the SLP. As soon as she picked up I started balling uncontrollably. I felt ashamed, humiliated that I had cried and messed up my speech. I then started going off about the adoption, and why my parents were the way they were. I drove home with tears streaming down my face... I mean... I was really feeling. I was feeling. I finally got home, and realized how late it was- so I let her go. I then locked myself in the bathroom, and cried. Hard. I just felt like, I have to talk to someone, which is very unusual for me. I normally am able to bottle it up and be well on my way. I just couldn't. So, I text Joes to see if she was up, because I knew Jacemom would be out. Lucky enough Joes was still up (even though it was VERY late her time), and called me. I don't even know how long we talked for, but I do remember crying most of the time.
After I let Joes go, around midnight my time (so REALLY late her time), I called my psychologists office and said that I needed to get it Tuesday ASAP. I then tried to fall asleep, but failed. I was in and out most of the night. I then woke up at 5am, and couldn't go back to sleep. In my mind, I was freaking out. Absolutely freaking out! I imagined cutting myself to feel; I imagined freaking out- by throwing things everywhere, screaming, etc; Then, a memory of mine came up from when I was 5 years old. Something I completely blocked out for the last 16 years. I was sexually molested by my babysitter. I couldn't get it out of my head, it was so weird. Around 8am I get out of bed and crawled into the bath tub. I then get a call from my psychologist office and they got me in at 12pm. I went in, and broke. I told him how ashamed I felt about what happened the other night, and I told him about the memory that popped up. I just sat there and cried. I cried so hard that I gave myself a panic attack, and I couldn't breathe. The SLP came in and they both had to calm me down. I was feeling... all these horrible, horrible things. I didn't realize that I hadn't been feeling anything in so long. The only thing I felt/feel is the love for my child. So, he walks me over to the psychiatrist office to get me on meds to help me out, but they can't get me in until the end of the month. Great. So, he told me to go to the front desk and to make an appointment for everyday this week; so I did.
Everything has been coming out this week. Everything from my past that I have bottled up came pouring out. I haven't cried so much in my entire life.
Wednesday night, I moved in with my mom's friend, and you'll never believe what she is! An ADOPTEE! As soon as we unloaded all of my junk we crawled into her bed and started talking. I have known her since I was born, and she has been like a second mother to me. So we're talking, and then she asks me, "If you don't' mind me asking, what made you decide to place Evan up for adoption? You're mother told me that it was because you were so disconnected and that you couldn't connect with him. She mentioned that you had said that you had such a wonderful upbringing, and the best childhood, and that you knew Evan would be safe and well taken care of by them."
My jaw dropped to the floor. I couldn't believe it. I told her, "no!!!!" She said, "I knew it. I knew that wasn't true."
I told her the truth. I told her how absolutely in love I was with my baby, and how I was EXTREMELY connected AND attached to him. I told her everything about being pressured into adoption, about my mom not letting me move in, and how she made me live in these really run down low-income apartments, AND how she always acted like I was a burden on her. I told her I never felt wanted by them. The only reason why she had me move back in with them was because I was put on bed rest, and my dad didn't want me living with him. I told her how badly she treated me up until I asked them to adopt Evan.
She was shocked. She told me that my mom had told her the complete opposite. She told her how much they supported me, and how they were going to help me raise him, yada, yada, yada.
NO! NO! I told her I had asked repeatedly to live with her so that I could save money for things for the baby. She told me no. I also asked if I could live with them until I got back up on my feet after the baby was born. They told me no, and that they would think about letting us stay for a week. Then after the adoption took place, I also mentioned how 4 days after my son was born she was forcing me to go find a job... even though I had one lined up. I also told her after 4 weeks, they kicked me out of the house, and left me alone in an empty apartment. I basically told her EVERYTHING. I was crying through the whole thing of course.
She was so amazingly supportive. I'm so happy I'm living with her. I immediately bonded with her. I almost want to call her mom. She then told me her story. She has the most amazing parents (I've met them). They consider me one of their grand kids. They are really amazing people. She told me about how she met her birth family, and her birth mom's story. My stomach turned when she told me. She was 17 when she got pregnant, and her parents told her they had ruined their family name, and that if she kept this baby he would be a bastard. You know... the typical things that were said to these poor women. She was sent to a maternity home in Oregon, where she had K*****. She didn't want to lose her daughter. She tried really hard to keep her, but the social workers had their way with her. After that, she went spiraling down, and got into a lot of trouble... I mean A LOT of trouble. Her family completely disowned her. They wanted nothing to do with her. So, she ended up moving to CA, and getting pregnant again. Her fiancé was then killed. So she went back to her parents, and her parents closed the door in her face. I think she was 20. Why, because the baby would be a mix of white, and African America. So, her fiancé's family took her and her son in. She moved to the east coast, where she still lives today. She didn't even know about her parents dying until she reunited with K*****. She is now getting back on her feet. She's in school trying to become some sort of tech. I remember meeting her when I was very little when they first reunited. I must have been either six or seven, but I don't really remember. I can't wait to meet her.
Anyway, as I was driving early this morning to my appointment I wanted to call my mom SO FREAKING BAD to just let her have it. DISCONNECTED FROM MY BABY?! Are you f****** kidding me? I did EVERTHING to protect my son, plus I read to him every night. I was ALWAYS talking or singing to him. I just felt absolutely awful. So I get there, and I'm the only one waiting. I overheard the receptionist speaking with my doctor. I overhead the receptionists say that he was sick, and her saying that I was already there. I was like, "oh my god, please, please I have to talk to him." She then came out and told me that he was pretty sick, but was coming in to see me. He thought I was coming in at 9am, instead of 8am. I told her to call him back, and tell him to get back in bed. She said, no, that he felt it was important that he were to see me. He canceled out the rest of his day, and came in to see me. I couldn't' believe it. For the first time, I felt like someone cared. So, I told him about my mother, and again, broke down. I had also learned that when my little sister was living with us, that my step dad and my mom were fighting about my sister. She hated my step dad and terrorized him a lot. I mean, she was ten. She was devasted about what was happening. Everything happened so fast. Only after 4 months after my dad moved out, he moved in. I just kept it inside, but my sister is never the one to do that. My step-dad had told me mom that it was either him or us (kids). Well, she chose him, and kicked my sister out. She couldn't kick me out, because my dad didn't want me. I told him that too. I immediately felt guilt. Guilt for not being there for my little sister, and guilt for having them raise my son. I immediately became so incredibly sick to my stomach. They are raising my son and my baby sister. I told my DR, "I have to get better, I have to finish school, because these kids are going to need me. I have to get them back. I can't just take Evan, I have to get both of them."
My mom is a sick, disgusting person. I absolutely hate her. I have had to have K***** watch my phone, because I swear to god if my mom calls me, I'm going to let her have it. I can't even imagine having her touch me, that's how disgusted I am.
I absolutely hate this. I have felt so sick to my stomach all week. I feel like I have an incision from my heart all the way down to my belly, and everything is pouring out of me. There are days I have felt so incredibly numb, that I just want to hurt myself so that I can feel. I have shared this with both my DR and K*****. My DR doesn't want to send me to the hospital because there they'll make me talk about it all the time and he fears (as well as me) that it'll make it worse. So, I've been trying really hard to keep myself busy. K***** and I have a lot of plans to keep my mind off of things.
This is all just devastating. I don't want to feel anymore... but I can't bottle it up anymore. It's almost as if it's too full and it can't take anymore. So, I've been letting it pour out. It's so incredibly hard. My dad and my sisters have been calling me all week, but I've been ignoring them. I can't talk to them. I just can't.
I don't know what to do. I'm so scared for my son and my baby sister. I did exactly what my mom did to my sister. She let her go. She let her go to someone (my dad), that she knew would abuse her. I can't believe myself. How could I have been so stupid?
I can't stop crying.
So, after group we drive down to the hospital where the meeting was being held, and waited for the parents to arrive. I remember the feeling getting stronger and stronger, but I tried hard to fight it off. David did an excellent job telling his story, and answering their questions (amongst 30 people). I thought to myself, this will be a piece of cake. So, it was then my turn. I started speaking, but I realized I had NO IDEA what to even say. A lot of my difficulties were associated with how I was treated by my parents, so I tried to wing it the best I could w/o having to say anything about the abuse my parents placed upon me. I remember thinking, "Oh my god, I don't belong here." You could tell I hadn't prepared, and I was a bit all over the place. I then came up to around the time I was 18; then all of a sudden, without me even thinking about it, I said, "I became pregnant." I immediately after I said those three words I began balling. I then said, "I had no support, none, and I was forced into placing my son up for adoption." I continued crying, and then said, "It's absolutely devastating that my parents couldn't support me parenting, but they were more than willing to raise him as their own." Cried some more, and then said, "Always, always, support you kids, no matter what the circumstance is, then need your guidance and support." Then I cleaned myself up and tucked my feelings back into my little container and sealed the lid. However, I felt like there was an earthquake about to take place inside my body.
I was able to stay longer after I spoke to answer some questions the parents had. The SLP told me she was getting ready to leave, but I had wanted to say a little longer to answer more questions. I asked if I could call her when I was done, so she gave me her number and left. As I was sitting there I looked around me. David had his parents with him, as well as Ash. I continued to observe and listen to their parents speak about the troubles they had with their kids, and how willing they were/are to do anything to help them in this world. Then there I was, alone. I didn't have any of that. I truly felt like I didn't belong there. So around 8:30pm I told everyone I was getting ready to leave, and took off. As soon as I got in my car I called the SLP. As soon as she picked up I started balling uncontrollably. I felt ashamed, humiliated that I had cried and messed up my speech. I then started going off about the adoption, and why my parents were the way they were. I drove home with tears streaming down my face... I mean... I was really feeling. I was feeling. I finally got home, and realized how late it was- so I let her go. I then locked myself in the bathroom, and cried. Hard. I just felt like, I have to talk to someone, which is very unusual for me. I normally am able to bottle it up and be well on my way. I just couldn't. So, I text Joes to see if she was up, because I knew Jacemom would be out. Lucky enough Joes was still up (even though it was VERY late her time), and called me. I don't even know how long we talked for, but I do remember crying most of the time.
After I let Joes go, around midnight my time (so REALLY late her time), I called my psychologists office and said that I needed to get it Tuesday ASAP. I then tried to fall asleep, but failed. I was in and out most of the night. I then woke up at 5am, and couldn't go back to sleep. In my mind, I was freaking out. Absolutely freaking out! I imagined cutting myself to feel; I imagined freaking out- by throwing things everywhere, screaming, etc; Then, a memory of mine came up from when I was 5 years old. Something I completely blocked out for the last 16 years. I was sexually molested by my babysitter. I couldn't get it out of my head, it was so weird. Around 8am I get out of bed and crawled into the bath tub. I then get a call from my psychologist office and they got me in at 12pm. I went in, and broke. I told him how ashamed I felt about what happened the other night, and I told him about the memory that popped up. I just sat there and cried. I cried so hard that I gave myself a panic attack, and I couldn't breathe. The SLP came in and they both had to calm me down. I was feeling... all these horrible, horrible things. I didn't realize that I hadn't been feeling anything in so long. The only thing I felt/feel is the love for my child. So, he walks me over to the psychiatrist office to get me on meds to help me out, but they can't get me in until the end of the month. Great. So, he told me to go to the front desk and to make an appointment for everyday this week; so I did.
Everything has been coming out this week. Everything from my past that I have bottled up came pouring out. I haven't cried so much in my entire life.
Wednesday night, I moved in with my mom's friend, and you'll never believe what she is! An ADOPTEE! As soon as we unloaded all of my junk we crawled into her bed and started talking. I have known her since I was born, and she has been like a second mother to me. So we're talking, and then she asks me, "If you don't' mind me asking, what made you decide to place Evan up for adoption? You're mother told me that it was because you were so disconnected and that you couldn't connect with him. She mentioned that you had said that you had such a wonderful upbringing, and the best childhood, and that you knew Evan would be safe and well taken care of by them."
My jaw dropped to the floor. I couldn't believe it. I told her, "no!!!!" She said, "I knew it. I knew that wasn't true."
I told her the truth. I told her how absolutely in love I was with my baby, and how I was EXTREMELY connected AND attached to him. I told her everything about being pressured into adoption, about my mom not letting me move in, and how she made me live in these really run down low-income apartments, AND how she always acted like I was a burden on her. I told her I never felt wanted by them. The only reason why she had me move back in with them was because I was put on bed rest, and my dad didn't want me living with him. I told her how badly she treated me up until I asked them to adopt Evan.
She was shocked. She told me that my mom had told her the complete opposite. She told her how much they supported me, and how they were going to help me raise him, yada, yada, yada.
NO! NO! I told her I had asked repeatedly to live with her so that I could save money for things for the baby. She told me no. I also asked if I could live with them until I got back up on my feet after the baby was born. They told me no, and that they would think about letting us stay for a week. Then after the adoption took place, I also mentioned how 4 days after my son was born she was forcing me to go find a job... even though I had one lined up. I also told her after 4 weeks, they kicked me out of the house, and left me alone in an empty apartment. I basically told her EVERYTHING. I was crying through the whole thing of course.
She was so amazingly supportive. I'm so happy I'm living with her. I immediately bonded with her. I almost want to call her mom. She then told me her story. She has the most amazing parents (I've met them). They consider me one of their grand kids. They are really amazing people. She told me about how she met her birth family, and her birth mom's story. My stomach turned when she told me. She was 17 when she got pregnant, and her parents told her they had ruined their family name, and that if she kept this baby he would be a bastard. You know... the typical things that were said to these poor women. She was sent to a maternity home in Oregon, where she had K*****. She didn't want to lose her daughter. She tried really hard to keep her, but the social workers had their way with her. After that, she went spiraling down, and got into a lot of trouble... I mean A LOT of trouble. Her family completely disowned her. They wanted nothing to do with her. So, she ended up moving to CA, and getting pregnant again. Her fiancé was then killed. So she went back to her parents, and her parents closed the door in her face. I think she was 20. Why, because the baby would be a mix of white, and African America. So, her fiancé's family took her and her son in. She moved to the east coast, where she still lives today. She didn't even know about her parents dying until she reunited with K*****. She is now getting back on her feet. She's in school trying to become some sort of tech. I remember meeting her when I was very little when they first reunited. I must have been either six or seven, but I don't really remember. I can't wait to meet her.
Anyway, as I was driving early this morning to my appointment I wanted to call my mom SO FREAKING BAD to just let her have it. DISCONNECTED FROM MY BABY?! Are you f****** kidding me? I did EVERTHING to protect my son, plus I read to him every night. I was ALWAYS talking or singing to him. I just felt absolutely awful. So I get there, and I'm the only one waiting. I overheard the receptionist speaking with my doctor. I overhead the receptionists say that he was sick, and her saying that I was already there. I was like, "oh my god, please, please I have to talk to him." She then came out and told me that he was pretty sick, but was coming in to see me. He thought I was coming in at 9am, instead of 8am. I told her to call him back, and tell him to get back in bed. She said, no, that he felt it was important that he were to see me. He canceled out the rest of his day, and came in to see me. I couldn't' believe it. For the first time, I felt like someone cared. So, I told him about my mother, and again, broke down. I had also learned that when my little sister was living with us, that my step dad and my mom were fighting about my sister. She hated my step dad and terrorized him a lot. I mean, she was ten. She was devasted about what was happening. Everything happened so fast. Only after 4 months after my dad moved out, he moved in. I just kept it inside, but my sister is never the one to do that. My step-dad had told me mom that it was either him or us (kids). Well, she chose him, and kicked my sister out. She couldn't kick me out, because my dad didn't want me. I told him that too. I immediately felt guilt. Guilt for not being there for my little sister, and guilt for having them raise my son. I immediately became so incredibly sick to my stomach. They are raising my son and my baby sister. I told my DR, "I have to get better, I have to finish school, because these kids are going to need me. I have to get them back. I can't just take Evan, I have to get both of them."
My mom is a sick, disgusting person. I absolutely hate her. I have had to have K***** watch my phone, because I swear to god if my mom calls me, I'm going to let her have it. I can't even imagine having her touch me, that's how disgusted I am.
I absolutely hate this. I have felt so sick to my stomach all week. I feel like I have an incision from my heart all the way down to my belly, and everything is pouring out of me. There are days I have felt so incredibly numb, that I just want to hurt myself so that I can feel. I have shared this with both my DR and K*****. My DR doesn't want to send me to the hospital because there they'll make me talk about it all the time and he fears (as well as me) that it'll make it worse. So, I've been trying really hard to keep myself busy. K***** and I have a lot of plans to keep my mind off of things.
This is all just devastating. I don't want to feel anymore... but I can't bottle it up anymore. It's almost as if it's too full and it can't take anymore. So, I've been letting it pour out. It's so incredibly hard. My dad and my sisters have been calling me all week, but I've been ignoring them. I can't talk to them. I just can't.
I don't know what to do. I'm so scared for my son and my baby sister. I did exactly what my mom did to my sister. She let her go. She let her go to someone (my dad), that she knew would abuse her. I can't believe myself. How could I have been so stupid?
I can't stop crying.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
A Brief Catch up.
I had decided to post "my story" on here so that my fellow bloggers can get an idea of my past experience. I did right this in the summer of '08, so my feelings on the matter are a bit different. In January of '09 I was diagnosed with aspergers disorder. My mother had always known I was different, and as a behavioral therapist she had put the pieces together and told me she thought I had aspergers. Well, my mother, if indeed she should be called by such a name, has been my "social worker" since I was 13, and emotionally abandoned me at the age of eight. She was always trying to diagnose me with something, or even better, have her fellow doctors prescribe me anti-depressants. Heaven forbid I have a bad day here and there.
At the time I was job shadowing a friend of my mothers who is a speech pathologist; she worked for a clinic who counsel children and adults with autism. The more I watch the kids, the more I felt "at home." I talked more with the SP, and she convinced me to have a psyciatric evaluation done by the psycologist, we'll call him Doc.
I won't go into too much detail about what happened during my psyciatric evaluation, but it was a very emotional experience for me. All of this was during finals week, what a GREAT week to be emotional, eh? I also at the time was going through a break up with my boyfriend, wonderful (for those of you who are wondering, I kicked ass on my finals). After finals were over, and my psychiatric evals- I broke down. I went spiraling down, out of control, lost, etc. After a month of my kaotic life (again, I'm not going to give details), I calmed down, and tried to patch things up with my boyfriend. Around that time is also when I was scheduled for my feedback from my eval. He told me, of course, that I had aspergers- but that I'm more high functioning (which is awesome), and that I have acute stress disorder, and major depression. He also spoke about how he thinks I hate men, and how traumatized I am from surrendering my son, the abuse/neglect from both my mother and my father. So, he told me he wanted to start seeing me twice a week- so I went and scheduled out until May.
I want to introduce to you something that I just figured out today with the help from Doc. I haven't "felt" anything in 16 years. Growing up in my fathers household, you were not allowed to feel any sort of emotion. If you did, you would be ridiculed, made fun of, ignored, told that what you were feeling wasn't correct, etc. Being the intellectual that I am, I was smart enough to know that I can't feel anything,otherwise I would be ostracized. I opened up a container and started stuffing shit in, as soon as I was done I would close the lid tightly so that I couldn't feel anything. I've been doing this for the past 16 years, and yesterday the lid came flying off.
I just can't believe everything that I have been put through. It's incredible that I'm still breathing.
At the time I was job shadowing a friend of my mothers who is a speech pathologist; she worked for a clinic who counsel children and adults with autism. The more I watch the kids, the more I felt "at home." I talked more with the SP, and she convinced me to have a psyciatric evaluation done by the psycologist, we'll call him Doc.
I won't go into too much detail about what happened during my psyciatric evaluation, but it was a very emotional experience for me. All of this was during finals week, what a GREAT week to be emotional, eh? I also at the time was going through a break up with my boyfriend, wonderful (for those of you who are wondering, I kicked ass on my finals). After finals were over, and my psychiatric evals- I broke down. I went spiraling down, out of control, lost, etc. After a month of my kaotic life (again, I'm not going to give details), I calmed down, and tried to patch things up with my boyfriend. Around that time is also when I was scheduled for my feedback from my eval. He told me, of course, that I had aspergers- but that I'm more high functioning (which is awesome), and that I have acute stress disorder, and major depression. He also spoke about how he thinks I hate men, and how traumatized I am from surrendering my son, the abuse/neglect from both my mother and my father. So, he told me he wanted to start seeing me twice a week- so I went and scheduled out until May.
I want to introduce to you something that I just figured out today with the help from Doc. I haven't "felt" anything in 16 years. Growing up in my fathers household, you were not allowed to feel any sort of emotion. If you did, you would be ridiculed, made fun of, ignored, told that what you were feeling wasn't correct, etc. Being the intellectual that I am, I was smart enough to know that I can't feel anything,otherwise I would be ostracized. I opened up a container and started stuffing shit in, as soon as I was done I would close the lid tightly so that I couldn't feel anything. I've been doing this for the past 16 years, and yesterday the lid came flying off.
I just can't believe everything that I have been put through. It's incredible that I'm still breathing.
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.
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.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
My Story- Part One
My son was born June 30th, 2007 and I signed my parental rights away July 3rd, 2007. The adoption was finalized the very same day. I carried my son for eight months knowing I was going to parent him. I wanted him more than anything, but I had to put my feelings aside and really think about what was in best interest of my son. I have other personal reasons why I chose adoption, due to lack of support, harassment, and alienation from my son's biological father and his family. We were both very wrong for each other, but in the beginning it felt so right. We were both at the time in places in our lives that we just seemed to fit. There were so many red flags that I ignored that I should have paid attention to, but at the time I didn't care.
He had been in a horrible car accident our senior year and was in a coma for a month (TBI). When he came out of the hospital he just seemed so lost. He tried going back to the way he used to be; the partier. The doctor's had told him to stay away from alcohol and drugs so that his brain could heal and not worsen. Well, that didn't hold him back. However, when I was home for the summer we lived together and I got him to stop drinking and using drugs...as far as I know.
To cut a long story short when I became pregnant he became emotionally and physically abusive. He cheated on me countless of times and treated me like I was lower than dirt, along with his mother. She banned me from coming to their home and supported my ex of not supporting me and talked horribly about me to others. They pressured me into adoption when in the beginning it wasn't an option. It went as far as them having her sister, his aunt, come to my house to talk me into putting my baby up for adoption. I had told my ex no countless of times. When he told me his aunt was coming up to my house I told him that if she was going to come to pressure me into adoption then she wasn't welcomed. That still didn't stop them and she came anyway.
I was so blind to all that abuse. I still wanted him to be a part of my life and my son's. I wanted a family and most importantly, for my son to have a father figure. So I kept him around, even after he deliberately rammed me into a wall and throwing me to the ground when I was four months pregnant. I watched him go down and down. He was losing weight and his mood swings were horrible. I knew he was back to using meth and coke. I finally then ended it. I was sick of the lying and the abuse. I was putting myself and my child in danger. I had to protect and take care of both of us. I didn't want them to be a part of his life or mine. They weren't good for him and I wanted what was best for my son. I had to protect him.
I was at the lowest point in my life. I was absolutely heart broken by all the abuse that was put upon me and my son. I moved back in with my parents (due to being put on bed rest) and still, I had never felt so alone. An old friend kept popping up in my head and I couldn't stop thinking about him. We had dated my freshman year and after we broke up we didn't speak to each other. He graduated a year before I did and went off to college. So, I decided to take action and I called him. It was/is the best phone call I have ever made in my life. We fell in love. After a month of talking on the phone every night (we averaged 6-9 hours a night) he drove six hours to where I was, picked me up, and we went camping for four days. I had the greatest time. I had never felt this happy before and it was an amazing feeling. I remember we were lying in our tent talking when my son decided to start playing. He began kicking and (trying his best) to move around in my belly. I then grabbed his hand and placed it over my stomach, his face lit up and he had the biggest smile on his face. I will never forget that moment. It was the best feeling in the world to know that my son was wanted by someone I loved.
I then confessed to everything that had happened in the past couple of months. I had told him how I wanted to keep my son away from them and how I didn't believe I could give my son everything he needed. To be quite honest, I was scared out of my mind. I didn't know how I was going to be able to make it and take care of him on my own. I knew my boyfriend wasn't ready to be a father and I didn't want to put that kind of pressure on him, we were only 19. I knew that my son would grow up in poverty. He'd go from daycare to daycare so that I could work and go to school. The thought of him going to his "father's" made me feel sick to my stomach. I knew it would affect his development and create separation anxiety which will turn into attachment issues later on. I didn't want that for him.
We both then talked about adoption, the subject I hated. He suggested seeing if my parents would adopt him. He knew how much I loved my son and how I wanted to be a part of his life. I knew I had to do something even if it meant putting him up for adoption. I didn't think my parents would agree to it, they were in their early 40's and were already talking about retirement; however they did have a three year old that I knew needed a sibling to grow up with. When I got home I proceeded to tell my mom what I was planning on doing. I could see tears well up in her eyes, she got really upset. I was so nervous to ask her but some how the words rolled right off my tongue. I don't remember quite what her answer was but I remember her saying she'd have to discuss it with my step-dad.
I remember after speaking with my mother I went and took a shower. I felt really confused about what I was doing but I knew it was the right thing to do. It was for the best and I then felt it was time to disconnect myself from my son, my Braden. After I got out of the bath my mom came into my room and told me that they would adopt my son. Even though she agreed to adopt my son, it felt as though my heart broke in two. That week I became so incredibly emotional. I would lash out on my family and cry like there was no tomorrow. I couldn't get myself to disconnect from my son. The next week at my doctor's appointment I heard my son's heartbeat, right then and there I punished myself for trying to disconnect from him. How in the world could I have even thought of doing that? I loved him so much. I called my ex and told him what I was doing. I told him I didn't want him around and that he wasn't welcomed to join in on the birth of our son. He got really upset, wished me the best of luck, and hung up. That was the last time we talked with each other.
I kept myself busy for the duration of my pregnancy. My boyfriend FINALLY moved back home form Pocatello and I spent most of my time with him. He'd come over in the afternoons before he'd go to work and then come over when he got off. It was the only time we'd get to see each other. He worked at an onion factory and oh my god that boy smelled so bad after he'd get off, but I didn't care. Sometimes we'd go off to a spot that overlooked the horizon while listening to Love Line on 100.3 The X and snacking on sour patch kids (one of my many cravings). Most of the time he'd coming over to my house and we'd put on the TV. I always ended up falling asleep with my head against his chest; I was so in love and still am to this day. He kept my mind off of things, but the adoption was always in the back of my head.
On June 29th, 2007 I could feel my contractions getting harder and harder. It was time. The drive to the hospital seemed endless and the pain felt numb. When I finally arrived at the hospital my contractions took full force. They got me in right away and started questioning me about my health, who would be in the delivery room with me, and about the father. Why didn't any of the nurses know my situation? I had filled out a form sent to me by my lawyer and I put done specifically what I wanted and nothing was given. I just wanted privacy. No, my son's biological father would not be here and no I don't want to discuss any of this! Why do they keep asking me all these questions and butting into my personal life and telling me theirs?! Can't they see that I'm in pain? Don't they know that this will be my final hours with Braden? Besides, I don't want to talk about my situation right now, let me enjoy the last time I'll have being his mother.
I finally settled in my labor and delivery room. They finished putting my IV in, after poking me seven times, so I could take a hot bath. It felt nice, but not hot enough. It relieved a lot of the pressure and made the contractions some what tolerant. I was finally able to relax some-what so I called my boyfriend.
"I'm here, they're keeping me."
That's all I really remember of the conversation. My contractions were getting stronger which made it hard to talk, so I told him I had to go and that I'd call him later.
Time went on and I was getting to the point to where the pain was so unbearable that I couldn't take it. It took an hour for the nurses to convince me that the epidural was ok and that it would not paralyze me. I was so paranoid and scared. As I agreed to go through with the epidural, the anesthesiologist was in my room in less than ten minutes, it felt like a second to me. As soon as it started to kick in a big relief came over me and I was as happy as could be! I hadn't felt this good in months! I was painless; I felt like super woman, except I couldn't walk and had someone emptying my bladder for me. I was so excited for this event to take place! I had fantasized about giving birth to my son and I couldn't wait to meet him, but I was terrified all at the same time. I really had no idea what laid ahead of me.
They told me to get some sleep and that I needed to save my energy for when it was going to be time to start pushing. In my mind I was laughing, how in the world can anyone sleep when they're in labor? I was way too excited! Sleeping was just nonsense to me! I relaxed however, but was overjoyed to the point to where I couldn't sleep.
The next thing I know I'm pushing. The pressure that you feel is so unbearable that you can't help but feel the need to push, but you can't in between a contraction, that was the hardest part. After an hour and ten minutes, at 8:12am, he was here. The feeling that took over me is so indescribable. It's like euphoria or in better terms, heaven. I was the first to hold him, I cried, and he just laid there in my arms without a sound. Our eyes locked and the love I felt I had never felt before. I then whispered softly, "I love you." It was as though we were in our own world. They then took him so that they could get him on antibiotics. I'm a Strep B carrier and allergic to penicillin so the antibiotic they gave me while I was in labor wasn't enough.
Braden was gone and I knew deep in my heart he would be gone forever. I couldn't bear to let him go and hung on to the thought of him; I wasn't ready to let go.
I had to wait awhile before I was sent up to my post partum room. Thinking back about it now, I don't remember a thing. I was in some state of shock and couldn't think straight. I seriously had no idea what was going on or my surroundings. It was as though I was sleeping and woke up in a strange place.
I had a couple of visitor's that day, friends of mine; I don't really remember any of them coming. The nurse finally brought my son to me later that morning. She quickly changed him and he started crying (more like screaming), I started balling and couldn't handle it. They let me hold him for awhile and I was completely mesmerized, he was amazing. I wanted to see his eyes, but he slept most of the time. My mom would bring him in and out most of the day, just for me. I think she sensed that I was having a difficult time and thought it would help seeing him. However, he spent most of the time with her.
My nurses were horrible and treated me like I was trash. I had to ask for ice at least four times before I was given any. My N.A. was the worst, she would talk about her personal life and what she thought about my decision I made over and over again. I remember her making comments that were not only insulting but completely inappropriate. I don't remember what was said, thank god. I didn't care about anything my nurses had to say, nor did I want to hear it. I just wanted some pain medication, a sleep aid, and some damn ice.
Night time came; I hadn't slept in forty hours. I couldn't sleep during the day, I just didn't feel right. The night shift came in and they were wonderful. My nurse was amazing and recognized how I was treated by the day shift nurses; my NA was wonderful, too. When I'd need something, they were there. They didn't once talk about my situation or asked. It was nice, I felt normal.
I would wake up every two hours and as a habit, touch my belly. A wave of sadness would come over me, he was gone. I snuck down to the nursery to see him. There were so many newborns in there and they all looked the same. Mine looked like Mr. Magoo but beautiful nonetheless; I could have spotted him a mile away. They'd let me hold him and rock him, I didn't want to leave. I finally went back to my room and fell asleep. I woke up bright and early the next morning and was told my lawyer would be in soon. A wave of emotions came over me and I couldn't stop crying. My mother right away acted as though it was just post partum depression. What she didn't know was that I knew when my lawyer would come I'd have to face the devil.
My nurse gave me a huge packet to fill out for the baby. I had to fill out his birth certificate and his social security stuff. I got really emotional doing this. For his name I was told I had to put Baby Boy Smith or what his name was going to be. I wanted to put his original name Braden Dean Smith (after both my grandfathers). To be honest, I don't even remember what I put.
Anyway, my doctor finally came in to check up on me and talked about discharge. He was going to have me stay an extra night because the baby had to, but I begged to be sent home early. I couldn't handle being there any longer. I felt like the walls were caving in on me and I was suffocating. Afterwards, my mother went behind my back to talk to my doctor about how emotional I was being and how she was concerned it was post partum depression. I knew it wasn't PPD; I wanted to scream at her. "Don't you understand? Two people died today."
My lawyer finally arrived and I met him out in the lobby with my parents. He asked them to leave once I arrived and sat me down to go over a few things. He was constantly asking me if this was the path I wanted to take. I repeatedly told him, "no it is not something I want to do; it is something I have to do." He went over with me what was going to be happen in court and handed me a couple of papers to sign allowing my parents to make medical decisions for my son. I signed away. Like I've said before, I don't remember much in detail.
I was finally able to leave. I just wanted to go home and be with my boyfriend. We both agreed that he would stay back home when I'd be in the hospital. I, for one, didn't want him to see me and he felt it wasn't his place to be there. That time was for me and Braden and I wanted it to be something special between us. When I got home I was so happy and relieved to see him! He's my other half.
We went to my room and I realized I was soaked in water (from the ice packs to help prevent my milk from coming in). I started crying.
"Anna, what's wrong?"
"My ice leaked water all over me again, it's just frustrating."
"Anna, that's not why you're crying," I stared at him. I knew he was right, but I wanted to believe I was crying because of the ice.
The next day I rode up with my step dad back to the hospital, I had to sign more papers allowing the hospital to discharge him. I was so out of it. I had accidentally slammed my little sister's fingers in the door and made her I cry. I started crying, I hated myself. We arrived at the hospital, thinking back I get an awful feeling in my stomach. It's a feeling I can't describe. We headed straight to my son's room, where my mom waited. I could tell she was in a bad mood by the way she was acting around me. We waited there for hours. My nurse finally came in and what do you know, started opening up her mouth again about the adoption and how wonderful and brave I am and yackity, yack, yack. Up to this point I was so sick of people praising me (still am), so just ignored it. She told us that we needed to go down to the nursery where we'd meet our lawyer. We headed down there and waited another hour. Finally he came and took me aside. He went over more documents with me and made sure this was what I "needed" to do. I nodded my head and signed away. Tears weld up in my eyes and I felt that lump in my throat. He then showed me the document that I would have to sign in court. I read the first page and completely lost it. I cried the hardest I had ever cried. My mom got down to my level and asked me if I was sure this was what I wanted and that there would be no hard feelings if I changed my mind. I looked up at her and told her, "I have to do this."
July 3rd, 2007 was the day my life would drastically change and it came too fast. I arrived at court with my stomach in knots. I couldn't comprehend what was happening. My lawyer took me aside and went over with me the questions he'd ask me in court and what my answers needed to be. He then left and went to speak with my parents. My mind went blank, I just kept saying to myself, "Don't break down in there Anna, don't you cry." They called us in there. We sat down and started proceeding. My lawyer asked me all sorts of questions regarding the birth father, the adoptive parents, my son, and why I chose adoption. I did really well up until I had to talk about my son and why I chose adoption. I then broke down crying. I remember the judge asking me, "Why are you crying? Is this because you are realizing this isn't what you want to do or is it because this is an emotional time for you?"
"This is just really emotional for me."
My lawyer looked back at me and asked me what _____________ meant (I can't remember the word)? My mind went blank and I replied, "I can't go back, I can't get him back." With that it was done. I remember taking a second to let it sink in what I was about to do and then signed away. My eyes were blurry from me sobbing. I was utterly a complete mess. I was later told the clerk had left and was replaced with another one as soon as I signed. Apparently she couldn't handle it and was crying herself.
They decided since my parents were there and that they had all their adoption documents filled and done that they were going to proceed and finalize the adoption. My parents became my son's mother and father that day.
A part of me died that day as well as Braden.
He had been in a horrible car accident our senior year and was in a coma for a month (TBI). When he came out of the hospital he just seemed so lost. He tried going back to the way he used to be; the partier. The doctor's had told him to stay away from alcohol and drugs so that his brain could heal and not worsen. Well, that didn't hold him back. However, when I was home for the summer we lived together and I got him to stop drinking and using drugs...as far as I know.
To cut a long story short when I became pregnant he became emotionally and physically abusive. He cheated on me countless of times and treated me like I was lower than dirt, along with his mother. She banned me from coming to their home and supported my ex of not supporting me and talked horribly about me to others. They pressured me into adoption when in the beginning it wasn't an option. It went as far as them having her sister, his aunt, come to my house to talk me into putting my baby up for adoption. I had told my ex no countless of times. When he told me his aunt was coming up to my house I told him that if she was going to come to pressure me into adoption then she wasn't welcomed. That still didn't stop them and she came anyway.
I was so blind to all that abuse. I still wanted him to be a part of my life and my son's. I wanted a family and most importantly, for my son to have a father figure. So I kept him around, even after he deliberately rammed me into a wall and throwing me to the ground when I was four months pregnant. I watched him go down and down. He was losing weight and his mood swings were horrible. I knew he was back to using meth and coke. I finally then ended it. I was sick of the lying and the abuse. I was putting myself and my child in danger. I had to protect and take care of both of us. I didn't want them to be a part of his life or mine. They weren't good for him and I wanted what was best for my son. I had to protect him.
I was at the lowest point in my life. I was absolutely heart broken by all the abuse that was put upon me and my son. I moved back in with my parents (due to being put on bed rest) and still, I had never felt so alone. An old friend kept popping up in my head and I couldn't stop thinking about him. We had dated my freshman year and after we broke up we didn't speak to each other. He graduated a year before I did and went off to college. So, I decided to take action and I called him. It was/is the best phone call I have ever made in my life. We fell in love. After a month of talking on the phone every night (we averaged 6-9 hours a night) he drove six hours to where I was, picked me up, and we went camping for four days. I had the greatest time. I had never felt this happy before and it was an amazing feeling. I remember we were lying in our tent talking when my son decided to start playing. He began kicking and (trying his best) to move around in my belly. I then grabbed his hand and placed it over my stomach, his face lit up and he had the biggest smile on his face. I will never forget that moment. It was the best feeling in the world to know that my son was wanted by someone I loved.
I then confessed to everything that had happened in the past couple of months. I had told him how I wanted to keep my son away from them and how I didn't believe I could give my son everything he needed. To be quite honest, I was scared out of my mind. I didn't know how I was going to be able to make it and take care of him on my own. I knew my boyfriend wasn't ready to be a father and I didn't want to put that kind of pressure on him, we were only 19. I knew that my son would grow up in poverty. He'd go from daycare to daycare so that I could work and go to school. The thought of him going to his "father's" made me feel sick to my stomach. I knew it would affect his development and create separation anxiety which will turn into attachment issues later on. I didn't want that for him.
We both then talked about adoption, the subject I hated. He suggested seeing if my parents would adopt him. He knew how much I loved my son and how I wanted to be a part of his life. I knew I had to do something even if it meant putting him up for adoption. I didn't think my parents would agree to it, they were in their early 40's and were already talking about retirement; however they did have a three year old that I knew needed a sibling to grow up with. When I got home I proceeded to tell my mom what I was planning on doing. I could see tears well up in her eyes, she got really upset. I was so nervous to ask her but some how the words rolled right off my tongue. I don't remember quite what her answer was but I remember her saying she'd have to discuss it with my step-dad.
I remember after speaking with my mother I went and took a shower. I felt really confused about what I was doing but I knew it was the right thing to do. It was for the best and I then felt it was time to disconnect myself from my son, my Braden. After I got out of the bath my mom came into my room and told me that they would adopt my son. Even though she agreed to adopt my son, it felt as though my heart broke in two. That week I became so incredibly emotional. I would lash out on my family and cry like there was no tomorrow. I couldn't get myself to disconnect from my son. The next week at my doctor's appointment I heard my son's heartbeat, right then and there I punished myself for trying to disconnect from him. How in the world could I have even thought of doing that? I loved him so much. I called my ex and told him what I was doing. I told him I didn't want him around and that he wasn't welcomed to join in on the birth of our son. He got really upset, wished me the best of luck, and hung up. That was the last time we talked with each other.
I kept myself busy for the duration of my pregnancy. My boyfriend FINALLY moved back home form Pocatello and I spent most of my time with him. He'd come over in the afternoons before he'd go to work and then come over when he got off. It was the only time we'd get to see each other. He worked at an onion factory and oh my god that boy smelled so bad after he'd get off, but I didn't care. Sometimes we'd go off to a spot that overlooked the horizon while listening to Love Line on 100.3 The X and snacking on sour patch kids (one of my many cravings). Most of the time he'd coming over to my house and we'd put on the TV. I always ended up falling asleep with my head against his chest; I was so in love and still am to this day. He kept my mind off of things, but the adoption was always in the back of my head.
On June 29th, 2007 I could feel my contractions getting harder and harder. It was time. The drive to the hospital seemed endless and the pain felt numb. When I finally arrived at the hospital my contractions took full force. They got me in right away and started questioning me about my health, who would be in the delivery room with me, and about the father. Why didn't any of the nurses know my situation? I had filled out a form sent to me by my lawyer and I put done specifically what I wanted and nothing was given. I just wanted privacy. No, my son's biological father would not be here and no I don't want to discuss any of this! Why do they keep asking me all these questions and butting into my personal life and telling me theirs?! Can't they see that I'm in pain? Don't they know that this will be my final hours with Braden? Besides, I don't want to talk about my situation right now, let me enjoy the last time I'll have being his mother.
I finally settled in my labor and delivery room. They finished putting my IV in, after poking me seven times, so I could take a hot bath. It felt nice, but not hot enough. It relieved a lot of the pressure and made the contractions some what tolerant. I was finally able to relax some-what so I called my boyfriend.
"I'm here, they're keeping me."
That's all I really remember of the conversation. My contractions were getting stronger which made it hard to talk, so I told him I had to go and that I'd call him later.
Time went on and I was getting to the point to where the pain was so unbearable that I couldn't take it. It took an hour for the nurses to convince me that the epidural was ok and that it would not paralyze me. I was so paranoid and scared. As I agreed to go through with the epidural, the anesthesiologist was in my room in less than ten minutes, it felt like a second to me. As soon as it started to kick in a big relief came over me and I was as happy as could be! I hadn't felt this good in months! I was painless; I felt like super woman, except I couldn't walk and had someone emptying my bladder for me. I was so excited for this event to take place! I had fantasized about giving birth to my son and I couldn't wait to meet him, but I was terrified all at the same time. I really had no idea what laid ahead of me.
They told me to get some sleep and that I needed to save my energy for when it was going to be time to start pushing. In my mind I was laughing, how in the world can anyone sleep when they're in labor? I was way too excited! Sleeping was just nonsense to me! I relaxed however, but was overjoyed to the point to where I couldn't sleep.
The next thing I know I'm pushing. The pressure that you feel is so unbearable that you can't help but feel the need to push, but you can't in between a contraction, that was the hardest part. After an hour and ten minutes, at 8:12am, he was here. The feeling that took over me is so indescribable. It's like euphoria or in better terms, heaven. I was the first to hold him, I cried, and he just laid there in my arms without a sound. Our eyes locked and the love I felt I had never felt before. I then whispered softly, "I love you." It was as though we were in our own world. They then took him so that they could get him on antibiotics. I'm a Strep B carrier and allergic to penicillin so the antibiotic they gave me while I was in labor wasn't enough.
Braden was gone and I knew deep in my heart he would be gone forever. I couldn't bear to let him go and hung on to the thought of him; I wasn't ready to let go.
I had to wait awhile before I was sent up to my post partum room. Thinking back about it now, I don't remember a thing. I was in some state of shock and couldn't think straight. I seriously had no idea what was going on or my surroundings. It was as though I was sleeping and woke up in a strange place.
I had a couple of visitor's that day, friends of mine; I don't really remember any of them coming. The nurse finally brought my son to me later that morning. She quickly changed him and he started crying (more like screaming), I started balling and couldn't handle it. They let me hold him for awhile and I was completely mesmerized, he was amazing. I wanted to see his eyes, but he slept most of the time. My mom would bring him in and out most of the day, just for me. I think she sensed that I was having a difficult time and thought it would help seeing him. However, he spent most of the time with her.
My nurses were horrible and treated me like I was trash. I had to ask for ice at least four times before I was given any. My N.A. was the worst, she would talk about her personal life and what she thought about my decision I made over and over again. I remember her making comments that were not only insulting but completely inappropriate. I don't remember what was said, thank god. I didn't care about anything my nurses had to say, nor did I want to hear it. I just wanted some pain medication, a sleep aid, and some damn ice.
Night time came; I hadn't slept in forty hours. I couldn't sleep during the day, I just didn't feel right. The night shift came in and they were wonderful. My nurse was amazing and recognized how I was treated by the day shift nurses; my NA was wonderful, too. When I'd need something, they were there. They didn't once talk about my situation or asked. It was nice, I felt normal.
I would wake up every two hours and as a habit, touch my belly. A wave of sadness would come over me, he was gone. I snuck down to the nursery to see him. There were so many newborns in there and they all looked the same. Mine looked like Mr. Magoo but beautiful nonetheless; I could have spotted him a mile away. They'd let me hold him and rock him, I didn't want to leave. I finally went back to my room and fell asleep. I woke up bright and early the next morning and was told my lawyer would be in soon. A wave of emotions came over me and I couldn't stop crying. My mother right away acted as though it was just post partum depression. What she didn't know was that I knew when my lawyer would come I'd have to face the devil.
My nurse gave me a huge packet to fill out for the baby. I had to fill out his birth certificate and his social security stuff. I got really emotional doing this. For his name I was told I had to put Baby Boy Smith or what his name was going to be. I wanted to put his original name Braden Dean Smith (after both my grandfathers). To be honest, I don't even remember what I put.
Anyway, my doctor finally came in to check up on me and talked about discharge. He was going to have me stay an extra night because the baby had to, but I begged to be sent home early. I couldn't handle being there any longer. I felt like the walls were caving in on me and I was suffocating. Afterwards, my mother went behind my back to talk to my doctor about how emotional I was being and how she was concerned it was post partum depression. I knew it wasn't PPD; I wanted to scream at her. "Don't you understand? Two people died today."
My lawyer finally arrived and I met him out in the lobby with my parents. He asked them to leave once I arrived and sat me down to go over a few things. He was constantly asking me if this was the path I wanted to take. I repeatedly told him, "no it is not something I want to do; it is something I have to do." He went over with me what was going to be happen in court and handed me a couple of papers to sign allowing my parents to make medical decisions for my son. I signed away. Like I've said before, I don't remember much in detail.
I was finally able to leave. I just wanted to go home and be with my boyfriend. We both agreed that he would stay back home when I'd be in the hospital. I, for one, didn't want him to see me and he felt it wasn't his place to be there. That time was for me and Braden and I wanted it to be something special between us. When I got home I was so happy and relieved to see him! He's my other half.
We went to my room and I realized I was soaked in water (from the ice packs to help prevent my milk from coming in). I started crying.
"Anna, what's wrong?"
"My ice leaked water all over me again, it's just frustrating."
"Anna, that's not why you're crying," I stared at him. I knew he was right, but I wanted to believe I was crying because of the ice.
The next day I rode up with my step dad back to the hospital, I had to sign more papers allowing the hospital to discharge him. I was so out of it. I had accidentally slammed my little sister's fingers in the door and made her I cry. I started crying, I hated myself. We arrived at the hospital, thinking back I get an awful feeling in my stomach. It's a feeling I can't describe. We headed straight to my son's room, where my mom waited. I could tell she was in a bad mood by the way she was acting around me. We waited there for hours. My nurse finally came in and what do you know, started opening up her mouth again about the adoption and how wonderful and brave I am and yackity, yack, yack. Up to this point I was so sick of people praising me (still am), so just ignored it. She told us that we needed to go down to the nursery where we'd meet our lawyer. We headed down there and waited another hour. Finally he came and took me aside. He went over more documents with me and made sure this was what I "needed" to do. I nodded my head and signed away. Tears weld up in my eyes and I felt that lump in my throat. He then showed me the document that I would have to sign in court. I read the first page and completely lost it. I cried the hardest I had ever cried. My mom got down to my level and asked me if I was sure this was what I wanted and that there would be no hard feelings if I changed my mind. I looked up at her and told her, "I have to do this."
July 3rd, 2007 was the day my life would drastically change and it came too fast. I arrived at court with my stomach in knots. I couldn't comprehend what was happening. My lawyer took me aside and went over with me the questions he'd ask me in court and what my answers needed to be. He then left and went to speak with my parents. My mind went blank, I just kept saying to myself, "Don't break down in there Anna, don't you cry." They called us in there. We sat down and started proceeding. My lawyer asked me all sorts of questions regarding the birth father, the adoptive parents, my son, and why I chose adoption. I did really well up until I had to talk about my son and why I chose adoption. I then broke down crying. I remember the judge asking me, "Why are you crying? Is this because you are realizing this isn't what you want to do or is it because this is an emotional time for you?"
"This is just really emotional for me."
My lawyer looked back at me and asked me what _____________ meant (I can't remember the word)? My mind went blank and I replied, "I can't go back, I can't get him back." With that it was done. I remember taking a second to let it sink in what I was about to do and then signed away. My eyes were blurry from me sobbing. I was utterly a complete mess. I was later told the clerk had left and was replaced with another one as soon as I signed. Apparently she couldn't handle it and was crying herself.
They decided since my parents were there and that they had all their adoption documents filled and done that they were going to proceed and finalize the adoption. My parents became my son's mother and father that day.
A part of me died that day as well as Braden.
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