Today on Birthmother's Day, I feel so much gratitude. I am feeling so lucky to be Roman's birth mom. He is truly an amazing little boy. I also feel lucky (or should I say blessed!) to have Wendy and Spencer, who have been so good to me and are truly friends for life. Really, friends for eternity. I could not have wished better parents for Roman or a better support for me. Also I feel so blessed that I was given this incredible experience. Of course it has changed my life so much and I would never go back and change it. Never.
Today I shared some of my adoption experience at a training for LDS Family Services adoptive couples, most of which have not been placed yet. I never exactly love talking about very personal emotions and experiences, and sometimes wonder if I'm articulating my feelings well enough. But I share because my experience has been so overwhelmingly positive. I wanted them to know that they don't need to be afraid of having a very open relationship with their birth moms, and also that the birth moms can be just as blessed by the experience as they are. I believe those are important things to convey.
How did I gain so much from this? I am often at a loss for words to explain just how and why bringing this amazing boy into the world had just a profound impact on me. I scoff at the idea that I am somehow damaged by the experience, and that Wendy and Spencer have benefitted at my expense. This could not be further from the truth. But there are still many misconceptions about adoption. What I want the world to know is that I consider this the greatest thing I have done in my life, and I thank Heavenly Father for giving me the opportunity.
Today at the training, we talked some about adoptive parents who go back on their word about the level of openness and even cut off contact with the birth mother after everything is final. It is rare, but it happens. It caused me to reflect on the relationship I have with Wendy and how grateful I am that she has gone above and beyond in keeping me a part of Roman's life. There is an intense amount of trust in an adoption. First they trusted me when I promised them they would become parents; now I trust them that they will keep me part of their lives. That kind of trust is hard to find in this world.
So yes- today I feel overwhelmed with happiness, gratitude, and peace. I am one lucky girl.
May 9, 2009
I am so lucky.
Happy Birth Mother's Day Katie
What can I say
Where are the words
To share the love we feel
This little boy
Our pride and joy
Our love for him is real
That sweet sweet smile
The crazy shrills
He makes our life so full
He came to us by other means
He found our hearts and whispered hope
And peace to his special mom
She held him close
And kissed his head
Then lovingly she said
"Take care of him
I love him so
Be sure he always knows."
She placed him in our loving arms
And helped us with our dreams
She gave us hope and love and joy, she gave us everything.
To love, To hold
To watch him grow
We share it all with her.
To see him growing
To watch him learn
The wonderment he brings.
May 4, 2009
New York Times article - An Adopted Child Is a Riddle. Now I Have a Clue.
Katie posted this article on Facebook the other day, and I have been debating since then. . .should I repost it here? There are so many of the emotions the author expresses that were so close to the feelings I felt, but there are so many differences as well. I came to realize that is what makes every adoption unique. No matter how similar two adoption stories are, they aren't the same. They have their own elements that make them unique.
So I decided that I would share and share my feelings on the article as well.
You can see the article on the New York Times website here.
An Adopted Child Is a Riddle. Now I Have a Clue.
BY our own clear-eyed assessment, my husband and I sprang from relatively shallow ends of our respective gene pools. Had we chosen to try to overcome our infertility and produce our own children, they most likely would have had crooked teeth and bad tempers and been as myopic as moles.
Instead, we adopted three of the loveliest, brightest and most interesting people I know. And the three women responsible for our good fortune have remained strangers, largely unaware of how they have enriched our lives.
Our fourth adoption began just like the others. Domestic and private, it required, in addition to a lawyer, a social worker to ensure once again that we were suitable candidates for parenthood. She was also responsible for conducting the interview with the birth mother and was, in effect, a state-sanctioned go-between in what had always been for us an anonymous affair.
But times were changing. The previously locked doors of adoption information were swinging open, and what had once been considered a shameful secret by many was increasingly seen as a loving choice.
So it was that the social worker one day asked me whether I had ever wanted to meet one of my children’s birth mothers.
“Oh, God, yes!”
“Well,” she continued, “this one is interested in meeting you. Do you want me to arrange it?”
I was stunned into an uncharacteristic silence. Meeting the birth mother had not even been presented as a possibility in our other adoptions. Always, though, I had wondered about them, worried about them, imagined conversations with them. I knew they were young, between 15 and 19, and unmarried. And I assumed they were as frightened and uncertain about the future as I would have been in their situation.
On a Friday morning in mid-September, the social worker called to tell me that a meeting had been set up for the following Wednesday at a coffee shop in a small town an hour’s drive away.
When I shared the news with my husband, he was less than enthusiastic. While supporting my decision to meet the woman, he wanted no part in the meeting. “Too much raw emotion” was how he put it. Even talking about it made him uneasy.
I, on the other hand, was twitchy with anticipation. My children were 8, 6 and 3, and their personalities were emerging before my eyes like quick-developing photographs. Watching these transformations, I had begun to have a sense of their biological mothers as I have of the characters in my favorite books, never actually seen but unmistakable in their particularity.
Where had these surprises in disposition and style originated? Where was the adult version of that one’s smile, another’s playful confidence with strangers, his perfect pitch, her gift for mimicry? Were there other children, brothers and sisters with the same endearing traits and annoying habits? And would knowing the answers be a blessing or a curse?
On the day of our meeting, I chose my outfit as carefully as I ever had for a date. As I drove, I let my thoughts drift to those other three women. They were in my mind often, especially at the milestones of my children’s lives: the first haircuts, steps taken, words spoken; as training wheels came off their bikes and as braces went on their teeth; on each first day of school, and at every soccer game and piano recital. At birthday celebrations I experienced a vague unease, as if I had forgotten to invite a close relative.
I remembered precisely where I was and what I’d been doing at the moment I received each phone call bringing the news of the birth. Surely their memories of those hours were more intense than mine. Yet did they observe those anniversaries? I could only imagine, and I did.
When the coffee shop came into view, I resisted the urge to drive past and had to rely on deep breathing to maintain my composure as I parked the car. Getting out, I caught sight of myself in the side mirror and saw that sprigs of my hair were sticking up at goofy angles and my mascara was smudged, but it was too late for repairs.
Inside, a very pregnant woman sitting alone in a booth rose to shake my hand. She asked about my drive, laughing nervously when I mispronounced her name. By the time the waitress had refilled our coffee cups, the awkwardness had passed and we were interrupting each other, eager to tell and know everything.
She was in her late 20s, divorced and raising two preschoolers on her own. A lapsed Catholic, she maintained she was still under the sway of what she had been taught.
Sensing I was in favor of abortion rights, she looked directly at me and said, “I really am pro-choice, and my choice is to have this baby.” And then, with conviction and regret, she added: “But I can’t raise it. I can’t single-parent another child. I just can’t.”We traded pictures and stories of our children. I told her I felt fortunate to have held all three of my children within their first 24 hours. About the births of her son and daughter, she said: “Those first few minutes after they’re born are amazing. They look right at you, as if they already know who you are.”
As we prepared to leave, she took my hand. “My mother and sister will be there for me, to help and all, but I don’t think I can be there for this baby, not in the way I was with my others.” She looked near tears, but went on. “I want him to have somebody right from the beginning.”
Finally we said our goodbyes, and I drove home in a rich sensory fog of baby lust and the giddiness of this new relationship.
Three months later she called me, not to announce a birth but to explain that a satisfactory fetal stress test had stamped the O.K. on an induced labor. The holidays were fast approaching, and neither of us wanted the delivery to fall on a day ideally devoted to celebration with our other children, hers and mine. My husband again declined to join us, promising instead to arrive the next day to drive our new baby and me home.
I reached the hospital in midafternoon, anticipating an all-nighter. I carried along magazines, a pillow and the tiny needlepoint stocking I was trying to finish for Christmas. I had just unwrapped a skein of yarn when I heard my name called. I looked up to see the face of a young woman who was clearly the birth mother’s sister.
“Would you like to come into the birthing suite?” she asked.
I hadn’t expected to be summoned until after the delivery but followed her along the hall and into the dimly lighted room. There I found the birth mother, propped on pillows, smiling, but well into the hard work of late labor. Her dark red hair was tangled, and sweat beaded her forehead and upper lip.
Her mother stood at the bedside, a damp washcloth and basin at the ready. It was she who motioned me nearer. We waited through a strong contraction, then the four of us joined hands, and within minutes our boundaries seemed to dissolve and we began the work for which we had gathered.
My memory of the next three hours is as clear as any I hold, and as otherworldly as if from a dream. The delivery and the minutes following remain in my mind more impression than distinct images. I remember cutting the umbilical cord, and then I was holding the baby, and he was, just as she had promised, looking into my eyes.
Someone was crying, then everyone was crying, and my attention was once again drawn to the woman in the bed. A nurse lifted the child from my arms, explaining that he would need to be weighed and have the routine newborn blood tests in the nursery. She left the room, and I slipped back into my place, an integral member of this group of smiling, weeping women.
“You’re not Catholic, are you?” the grandmother asked sheepishly.
“No, I’m Presbyterian.”
“But you’re not one of those, you know, who wait until they’re teenagers to baptize them?”
“No,” I assured her. “Definitely infant baptism.”
She slumped with relief.
“A month at the most, just after the holidays,” I said. “Don’t worry, he’s safe.”
A tension that I hadn’t been aware of seemed to evaporate and we all laughed and began to talk at once, about Christmas and gifts and food, about almost everything but babies.
AFTER a while the birth mother reached for my arm, and I steadied her as she slipped gingerly from the bed. She moved toward the bathroom, leaning against me a little, and as she turned, she gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m fine,” she assured me, and closed the door.
When she emerged she was fully dressed. She had combed her hair and put on lipstick, and only the redness of her eyes and the huskiness of her voice gave her away. “I think I would like to go home now,” she said, looking past me to where her mother and sister were standing.
“You’re leaving?” Even I could hear the quaver in my words. “Are you sure?”
She nodded.
My mind raced with unasked questions. I suddenly needed to know everything, not only about her family and history but the histories of the other three birth mothers, whom I had never met. Somehow, in the intensity of our shared experience, I had combined them and made her the repository for the secrets of all their lives. As foolish as it seemed, I wanted her to tell me that they would be O.K. as well.
As we made our way along the hall, we attempted to fill the awkward space with generic goodbyes. There were no assurances about keeping in touch. We knew we wouldn’t. As the elevator doors were closing, I thought of the baby and my pulse quickened, but I knew it was more than the thrill of new motherhood.
There was now a person and a past where only a fantasy had been, and in the years ahead I would come to appreciate the importance of this connection. I would watch my child’s intense response to music, be enchanted by his smile, stand in awe of his feisty determination, and I’d know the origin of these characteristics.
And I could choose, when the time was right, to share this story, his story, with him. For the moment, though, it was with a silent “thank you” to the mother I knew and those I didn’t that I turned back, headed for the nursery and my son.I love how the author expresses her feelings of meeting her son's birth mother. I took a minute and relived our experience meeting Katie after reading this. I re-read what I had written about that experience here and the words were just not adequate. Truly life changing moments.
Reading about being there for the birth of her son was also so special. I don't talk about that part of Roman's life a lot because it was probably one of the most spiritual days of my life. It was exciting, scary, overwhelming, and completely surreal. I still, two years later don't have words to express the amazing spirit that was in the room that day. I told a little about it here.
Lastly, I am SO thankful our story has continued where the article ended. As I said in the beginning every adoption is so unique and I am thankful for the unique relationship that we have with Katie. That our story did not end with Roman's birth. That was just the beginning. . . .
March 31, 2009
today is a special day for our family
Two years ago today we found out that Katie had chosen us to be Roman's parents. I love remembering this day. It is almost as special to us as Roman's birthday!
We like to think about Katie!
We like to remember the years before Roman was born, and the blessings that he has brought into our lives!
We hug and snuggle.
We read the book Katie wrote for Roman.
We taught Roman how to say "Thank you Mommy Katie!" Hopefully he will always remember to tell her thank you!
Thank you Katie!
We love you!!!!
To read about our special day 2 years ago, click here!
March 12, 2009
February 22, 2009
where did the last 20 months go?
On Friday Roman turned 20 months old. I look at this sweet boy and see all the blessings he has brought to our family. He is such a sweet boy. He is smart. He is funny. He blesses our family every single day.
I can't believe he is almost 2 years old. He is turning more and more into a boy than a baby every day. There are sometimes that I have to do a triple take to realize that boy is my baby.
I love this crazy boy so much. He is the reason I get up in the morning, and the reason I am so exhausted when I go to sleep at night. Has it really only been 2 years that I have been a mom? And has it already been almost 2 years? All at the same time.
My friend's amazing husband did this picture for us to give to Katie for Christmas. It is one of my favorite pictures of Roman with his Mommy Katie. I have a second copy of it to put up on Roman's room. I absolutely LOVE it. It reminds me what an amazing gift Katie gave us.
February 2, 2009
A trip to LDS Family Services
It's been forever since I last posted. Life got in the way for a while.
Where I left off, I was finally getting used to the idea that I was really pregnant. And my reaction was to withdraw from the world to a large extent. I decided to try and use the time to my advantage. I figured it was about time I worked on some self-improvement. That was a slow process but I had a lot of time on my hands.
It was a while before I went into LDS Family Services. I had been on the website and looked around at profiles. I wasn't super-inspired by anything though. I sent a request for help/information on the website and soon I got a response from the local office in my email. And then I ignored it. They sent me another one, and for a while I ignored that one too. Finally I felt ready and called the office to set up an appointment. I went in and met the counselor who would be working with me. For the most part I was probably pretty calm considering the circumstances. That first appointment was mostly getting acquainted, learning what LDS Family Services had to offer me, and what the process would be like. I had already made my decision to place long before going into the agency, so I didn't have to go through the decision-making process. For me it was about planning how I would go through it and getting the support I would need. I learned from my counselor that it's typically a good idea to wait and choose the adoptive family later in the pregnancy. I was a little disappointed even though I was free to reject that advice if I wanted to. I was just really looking forward to choosing the family. It was the one bright spot in my otherwise now dark and lonely world.
There is a huge feeling of exhilaration involved with choosing the adoptive family. It almost feels self-indulgent because you know the choice is about your child, not about you or even about the family you choose. But you cannot deny how personally exciting it is to give such a gift to someone. There is really no other time when you get to do something that will change someone's life in such an enormously positive way. So I was anxious to find them. When looking for a family for my baby I had a few criteria in mind. Probably for the reason I just described, I was looking specifically for a couple who didn't have any children yet. I was also looking for a couple that was around my age or a little bit older, but not too much older. Education was important to me and then the content of the birthparent letters were important to me too. For some reason I was turned off by too much humor on the profiles. I was feeling very serious about my situation and I didn't like making a joke out of it in any way. I wanted to feel spiritually connected and like they really cared about me and my role in the adoption.
I had mixed feelings about going to see my counselor at LDS Family Services. I think it was my second appointment when he showed me a video the agency had made. For the most part it was inspiring. It featured a few girls, some who had chosen to marry, some who chose to single-parent, and some who placed. The annoying part to me was at the end when one of the girls was shown about a year after she placed and she was about to get married in the temple. I was annoyed because there she was, at her happy ending (which seemed a little too syrupy sweet to me) when I was just at the beginning of my 'adventure'. I felt sadness and disappointment looking at my own life, knowing that I was at the age that I should have already been married and creating my own family at that point. That's what I had always wanted but despite my intentions I had made a total mess of my life. So call it sour grapes but I didn't really want to see her so perfectly happy. I wasn't even convinced that I would come out of this feeling so perfectly happy, not because I would ever regret the adoption but because nothing had ever been that easy for me.
So I resolved to wait a while to choose the perfect family for my little guy, and in the meantime I started spending quite a bit of my free time on a certain online message board...
January 30, 2009
Everyday Miracles
Look at these miracles. These babies are all miracles! About 5 years ago I joined a group on Babycenter that was part of the LDS Families Board for women struggling with infertility. We started out as the "Infertile Mertyles" Then somewhere along the line we were shortened to "The Infert's group." I had a hard time accepting and talking about my infertility at first and these girls were great. They knew what I was going through and they were so supportive.
Over the years people have come and gone from the group but one thing has remained, the feeling of support and friendship.
On Wednesday I was able to go to lunch with 4 other "Infert" girls. We all have different stories but they are really not that different. We all have wanted to have babies and for one reason or another we have not been able to. Now through one resource or another, we have all been blessed with at least one sweet miracle.
I am so thankful for the love and support all the "infert" girls have given me and the others. It has made the road a little easier to travel and it's nice to know there is someone there who knows what you are going through and you know they genuinely care about you.
Things I have done . . .
I have been tagged to do this a few times, and have had it come as an e-mail as well. I decided tonight was a good time to do it! The things in BOLD are things I have done. The things that are NOT in bold I have not done. I am not going to tag anyone because well, I have been horrible at tags lately, but if you want to do it, feel free.
1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland/world
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped (I have not actually bungee jumped, but I did ride the skycoaster at Lagoon.)
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables (We try every year, some years are more sucessful than others)
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you're not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
t31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo's David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma
65. Gone sky diving (Spencer has, I think 8 times, I might be wrong on the number but he was almost certified, I am too chicken)
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone (Spencer broke my foot for me once too)
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book (Does blog to book or picture books count?)
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car (Sigh, I loved that car!)
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone's life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Read an entire book in one day
Going through that list there are things that I would love to do in my life, but I am happy to say that I have not done many of the things listed.
January 26, 2009
Mommy
I am sorry it has been so long since I have posted on this blog. Our lives have been very up in the air and I have been putting so many things on the back burner. This blog too unfortunately.
Last night I had a realization that I had to share here.
Every once in a while something clicks for me. Last night I realized how much I LOVE the word Mommy. For so many years I wanted to hear that simple word, wondered if I ever would. Even whined, cried, screamed it is music to my ears. Okay, maybe not music, but I love hearing him say that sweet word. Last night we had a rough night. Roman wanted to sleep right up against my back, if I moved I heard a sweet "mommy." How can I be mad when he says that?
I never want to take that word for granted. I waited 6 1/2 years to be called Mommy, a nd thankfully I have been given the opportunity to have this sweet angel boy in my life.
November 18, 2008
The early weeks.
In continuing my story, I thought I would tell some of the details that I usually don't share. I think other birth moms in particular will relate and appreciate these details.
I remember the day of my first doctor’s appointment. It was strange being there because I was still in partial denial. Right up until the ultrasound I still had the tiniest hope in the back of my mind that I wasn’t really pregnant. When I filled out the paperwork about my medical history, I put a big line through all the questions about the father of the baby. I wasn’t interested in making him part of this in any way, even on paper. Later I realized it probably looked like I crossed the questions out because I didn’t know that information….but I didn’t really care. That was my way of being in control of the situation. I met my doctor for the first time and she did the first ultrasound. It was there in that tiny dark room that it finally sunk in that the little bean on the tv screen was, in fact, a baby. This was really happening. No more denial. The worst part about that day was the bag the nurse gave me before I left. The diaper bag filled with samples of formula and vitamins, a pacifier and a baby bottle…. Just looking at those things was painful. I remember looking at the bottle and wishing so badly that this was happening in the right way, that I was happily having my first baby as I had always dreamed about, but not like this. When I got home I shoved the diaper bag into the back of my closet where it remained for the next seven months.
What was most difficult during those early weeks was trying to carry on every day as if all was normal when emotionally and physically my world was turned upside down. If God had a punishment for me in all of this, it was morning sickness. Considering that my mom and my sister (each a mother of 4) never got sick during their pregnancies, I have to wonder. I was sick all day, every day, for at least eight weeks. But the worst part of my day was the morning. I am an attorney and I have to be in court almost every morning. First it would take me a long time to get ready for work because I kept having to lay back down every few minutes from the nausea. Then I would suffer through my drive to work, usually throw up in the parking garage and then try to get to court on time without getting sick again in the middle of a hearing. The first time the news started to get out was when I almost passed out in court. The deputy asked if I wanted them to call an ambulance, and I said no thank you I know what’s wrong with me, I’m pregnant. It was so nice getting all the excitement and well-wishes, but at the same time it always stung because it wasn’t a happy event for me. It was an emotional marathon that I was only beginning.
I’m normally a very private person. Even writing for this blog is a huge step for me, as it is every time I share my adoption story because in my daily life I usually keep my cards so close. So during those early days, and throughout the pregnancy, having the news get out and having so many comments all the time, so many questions…it was overwhelming. I didn’t want to share my most personal and sacred decision with the whole world so I mostly started avoiding all people. I chose to become very isolated and I stayed home as much and as often as I could.
8 years
(BTW It was a LOT colder on this day 8 years ago! Think SIXTEEN degrees! Yikes! It was freezing. . .what was I doing wearing a short sleeve dress?)
Today I am so glad that I married my best friend. The man that I am happy to spend forever and ever with. The first person I want to tell everything to. If there is something happy, exciting, sad, scary, I call him. I love talking to him. I love cuddling up next to him at night. I love everything about this sweet man (even the little things that drive me insane, without them he just wouldn't be him!)
Happy Anniversary Hunny, I love you more today than I did 8 years ago, and I can't imagine how much more I will love you in 8 more years! Thanks for being the best husband, thank you for being the best daddy, and thank you for loving us so much!
November 11, 2008
Little help for my friends
I have mentioned that LDS Family Services encourages families to find their birth mother. What I didn't mention is how hard that can be. I remember every time our caseworker would ask us what we were doing to try and find our birth mother I felt so overwhelmed. What more could I do? I decided that since it's national adoption month I would take the time to post about a few of our friends that are trying to adopt too.
Today I wanted to tell you about Robert and Emily and their adorable daughter Rachel! (isn't she a doll? She is smart and funny too)
I met Emily through an online support group. She is one of the most amazing women I know. She is so sweet.
We met in the spring and she was as cute in person as online. One of those genuinely good people that this world needs more of.
They have been on a long journey to expand their family and I just know they are going to be blessed for their efforts!
Good luck guys! I can't wait to hear that your family of 3 is now a family of 4!
November 5, 2008
Good Things Utah
Today I went to the live taping of Good Things Utah to support Families Supporting Adoption but mostly to hear Mrs R and Miss Myra. I have been fortunate enough to present with Myra at a high school representing the Utah Adoption Council. These ladies are my role models. I want to grow up to be just like them. Myra has the strength and the testimony and the passion. Mrs R is the greatest adoption advocate. She will talk to anyone, anytime, anywhere. She makes sure that people know how great adoption is and it is because of people like these 2 that adoption is where it is today. I hope this month helps me to be one step closer to the person I would like to become.
(Point and shoot camera's just don't cut it, I am sure there will be better pictures on other blogs, maybe I'll steal one ;) )
I think back to when we started our first adoption. We didn't want anyone to know. We weren't ready to open our sores up to the world. I wish I had known how much healing can come from helping others. I wish that someone had told me that without opening up I would never see how many people there are out there that feel exactly like I do.
I may never give birth to a baby, but I am a mother. I look at that sweet boy sleeping and there is no doubt in my mind that he is my son. I recently realized just because I am his mother that doesn't make Katie any less his mother. He has the love of two mommies that want the very best for him. They have both spent many sleepless nights worrying about him, and they both love on him as often as possible. Thank heavens for adoptions! These beautiful babies get twice the love!!!
November 3, 2008
My story- the beginning.
I’m Katie, Roman’s birth mother. This is my story.
Because one of my purposes in sharing my story is to reach out, inspire, and comfort other birthmoms and potential birthmoms, I want to start with a message to you: The road to adoption is one that begins with fear, heartache, maybe even despair. It seems an impossible road when you’re at the very beginning. But if you could only see the end from the beginning- you would not walk down that road, you would run as fast as you can. But the nature of the experience is that you must take one small step at a time. Along the way you will have angels by your side- some seen, some unseen. But you will not walk that road alone. I can promise you that.
I felt very alone in the beginning. It was hard for me to accept and grasp that I was really pregnant. It was definitely not part of my plans. I thought I had been pretty clever in hiding my many spiritual struggles and failures from my family. Now there would be no hiding it. I resolved to keep it to myself as long as I could and along the way I would figure out how to break such unhappy news to them. Until then I would deal with everything else.
How did I make the initial decision? I knew what all the options were. I never considered marriage. It wasn’t right for me at all. I didn’t even want Alex to go through this with me. I wanted to do it all myself. The big ‘A’ word….I have to be completely honest. It was a temptation. It was never even a remotely serious consideration, but a temptation whispered in my ear many times. An unwelcome pregnancy is the ultimate test of who you fear more, man or God. I prayed that I would just lose the pregnancy and that it would all be over. It’s hard to even take yourself seriously praying something like that- ‘I know I got myself into this, but please do I really have to go all the way through it? Can the scare just be enough?’ I knew how disingenuous I was being even as I was saying the words. What I didn’t know then was that a very wise and loving Heavenly Father, who can see the end from the beginning, knew how very badly I needed to go through this experience. Not just for Roman, or for Wendy, or anyone else- but for me. So it wasn’t out of anger or retribution that my feeble prayer wasn’t granted, it was out of a deeply profound love. In His wisdom he did not take away the trial.
All other options were unimaginable for me. I had always thought that adoption was the best solution to an unwed pregnancy. I’d argued that many times before in a general sense, never really thinking I would have to make that decision in my own personal life. So before I even needed to make the decision, in a way I had already made it. Since I had already studied it out in my mind, I knew what the right choice would be for me.
It helped that my feelings for Alex had completely turned even before I knew I was pregnant. I consider this to be a blessing, because it kept me from even being tempted to single-parent. That choice might be right for some people but it wasn’t for me in my particular circumstances. And when I even imagined “sharing” my child with a person I had very little respect for, someone I did not trust to raise my child with the same environment and values as I would, I was only thankful that I had another option. I knew that the only chance of giving my child everything he deserved was to find a family who could provide the most important things in life. I wanted him to grow up in a family, with two parents who love each other and are fully committed to each other. I wanted him to have a worthy priesthood holder in his home, to guide and protect him. I wanted him to grow up in the covenant, sealed in an eternal family. Adoption was the only way. And when I thought about adoption, I felt a peaceful excitement.
I might not have been very good at making the right decisions for myself, but I found that the love and concern I had for this tiny spirit I had never even met was empowering me to make the best possible decisions on his behalf. And that was not only to his benefit, but the beginning of my own personal spiritual transformation.