Sometimes, we need to be hurt in order to grow. We must lose in order to gain. Sometimes, some lessons are learned best through pain.
I’ve been living with a secret for 25 years. A secret that only a handful of people have every known about. A secret about something that changed several lives at once. I have built my life around this secret. It feels like my life has been divided into parts. Before this event, during this event, after and now.
I know most people who are acquainted with me now think they know me and that I’m a very open person, and for the most part that is true. However, there are things I thought I would never speak of that have shaped who I am today, the relationships I have and how I conduct myself. You can only grow as much as you allow yourself to, and it is time for me to come clean about what I’ve been holding onto for so long. Time for those I hold dear in my heart to understand why I love them so deeply, helicopter them. Its time for the next chapter.
The things I say following are mine. This is my journey. These are my feelings. There are some people that were by my side during, those that came after, some that are here now. While they know what I’ve told them, there is less than a handful of people that know the toll it has taken and continues to take. I share this now for the simple fact of letting go of my secret. I do not share for any sort of judgment or dialog.
In 1994 I was a young, dumb kid. I had already had my son Zachary, who had gone through hell at the beginning of his life. Two surgeries before he was old enough for his first set of immunizations. I was unemployed, broke, single and living in a 1-bedroom apartment. I got pregnant. (At this point by whom is not important. Don’t ask, don’t assume, its privileged information for a reason and I will go to my grave with that single detail). What the hell was I going to do? I knew I was already gambling with the life of the child I did have. I was struggling to feed him, to provide for him. I had no future in site. How the heck would I be able to raise another child, alone at that.
I came across an add for a family wanting to adopt a child. When Zachary was with his dad, I walked down town to the pay phone and called the number. The woman who answered was so nice. She was on her way to work but went in late just to talk with me. She and her husband had been trying so hard to have a baby. They had even tried adoption in the past and it had fallen through. When we ended the conversation, I agreed to call again. In the meantime, I had found two other couples names and numbers and talked with them. I kept thinking of the first woman I had spoken to. There was something about her that I just connected with.
I agreed to meet them. My friend Nikki and I went to the Olean Mall and sat on the benches just waiting. That was before cell phones, social media even email so I only had the description she had given me. We met, talked for what seemed like forever, although I’m sure it wasn’t. We went to the McDonalds that was in the mall and drank soda and chatted. About what seemed like important information at the time, how long they had been together, what the did for a living, their families, religion and stuff. We came up with a plan that when I went into labor they would drive down. They lived in the Buffalo area. If they made it in time, then she at least would go into the delivery room.
I would say that time was kind of a blur, going through the motions. Like I didn’t really plan for anything other than I would deliver the baby and give it to these people I met. To me I was making the decision based on the fact that I already had one child that I had promised to love and devote my life to and truthfully I wasn’t doing that great of a job, and there was another child that deserved to have a better chance than I was going to be able to give it. In my mind I had decided that was the best thing and that was how it was going to be. No problem.
Then came the morning when I woke with labor pains and leaking water. At 1:48 PM I delivered a beautiful baby girl. A 6-pound, 12 ounce, 19 ¼ inches long, dark hair, beautiful daughter. They placed her in my arms and my heart filled.
The couple arrived after I delivered. The baby was in my room and they came and held her and stuff. I was mad at them, yet not. I mean I was all over the place. I was 19, I had just delivered a baby I was going to give to another woman to raise. It was a lot. The nurse kept wanting me to send the baby back to the nursery and not hold her so much. She kept saying it would be harder on me. There was a fantastic nurse. She talked with me and understood where I was coming from. I needed time with this baby. She put a sign on the door that said all visitors needed to report to the nurses station before entering my room. She brought me my daughter and shut the door. She let me sit in there as long as I needed without judging me or trying to change my mind or whatever. When the other nurse came in to tell me to let the couple see the baby, the “good” nurse was there telling me it was my call and it was fine to keep that baby in my arms.
I held her, swaddled her, breathed in her very essence. I took that baby and memorized every wrinkle she had, face she made, smell. I talked with her, told her how very important she was to me, how very very much I loved her. How she was so important that she deserved so much better than I would ever be able to give her. That I picked for her, two people that would be so blessed to have her, that would ensure her safety, security and future. How I would make something of my life so if I ever got to meet her again I would be worthy of knowing her, because at that time I was not. I honestly feel like that time I spent was time I was able to take a piece of her and put her in my soul. I can remember so vividly holding her to me and breathing in the scent of her, the contentment I felt and the panic at the same time.
When it was time for discharge Nikki came to drive me home. I didn’t want to see the couple, I needed to not see them. I knew they were there, but I couldn’t see them.
I got home; Zach came home. I think I might have been there about an hour, who really knows. I just remember once the pain hit, it hit hard. It was like repeated hits to the heart. Nothing like I had felt before or after. Most of that time is like a blur. I went to my Moms. I remember sitting on the couch, Zach was playing with toys, my older brother was there. He asked me if I wanted to talk about it. I looked right at him and said no, said I was fine. He said to me that he knew I wasn’t fine. How could I be fine. Zach had little dinosaurs he was playing with. I can still see the clothes he had on, green dinosaur in one hand, blue in the other, there was a little truck in front of him. I remember turning so slow to my brother and telling him “I’m fine.”
That night after everyone was asleep is when I broke. I don’t mean I broke down and cried, I mean I broke. Like literally, into a million pieces. Something inside of me broke. I wish I could put into words the way I felt then, I can’t. That day I really did shatter.
I tried putting myself back together again, often. I got a job, met a boy, got married, was blessed with two more children. I learned new things, then learned different things. I’ve tried finding my way in the world. I’ve tried loving my children so very much that I have nearly smothered them. I’ve invented and reinvented myself so many times, trying to close the gap that was put there so long ago.
Through the years I never really told many people about all of this. I told my now ex-husband. When we split up he told Kevin and Liana about it in an attempt to tarnish the opinion they had of me. They were to young to understand and didn’t remember. My younger brother Eric told Zachary in an attempt to tarnish his opinion of me. I learned through the years that people can’t be trusted with something like this.
A few years back I did the 23 & me DNA testing. I was really into it for a while, then I kind of forgot about it. Well 2 weeks ago I was working overnight and I was purging emails when I saw one from that site saying I had new DNA relatives. I logged on and it showed my and my 50% DNA match daughter. I couldn’t believe it! I messaged my friend Leslie and she talked me through it. I decided to send a message the next morning.
We have been talking since then. I told the kids. They were far better than I could have hoped! Kevin couldn’t wait to talk with her, Liana said the nicest thing and Zach informed me that his uncle had already told him. So far Liana has been in contact with her.
Since going through this I have learned a few things that I was unaware of before. Most people say 1 of 2 things. Usually: who is the father OR: I could never do that. I feel like the first question is just someone being nosy. Truthfully sometimes the answer to that question is hurtful to the person who’s business it really is. The second comment is probably meant to be supportive or to point out that someone did something that was difficult, and they wouldn’t be “tough enough” to do it. I would like to point out that I wasn’t able to do it either. I thought I could, however, the process literally broke me. It destroyed me. I went through the motions and I found coping mechanisms, but I was never the same. I have learned that many people look/think badly of birth mothers. I was stunned by some things I have read as I try to navigate this process that I only ever dreamed would be a reality. I will say this: I loved that baby as much as I have loved my other children. It was because of that love that I picked the parents I did and tried giving her the very best chance she could have at a future. If you love someone unconditionally and with your whole heart, then you will do what is best for them, not you. That is where my choices came from. I loved both babies I had at that time unconditionally and enough to do what was best for them, not me.
I have no idea where this is going to go or what will happen, all I know is that for the first time in 25 years I don’t have that panic feeling, that shattered feeling. I feel at peace. She had / has the best life, the best education, the best of everything and was and is so loved. She is so close with her parents and family.
