Indiegogo campaign and a small post

I've started a campaign on indiegogo to gather funds to promote the blog as well as funds for travel in May.
http://tinyurl.com/bhr758x

I also asked Jon and Liz to share their feelings of what happened before Jaden's birth and at the hospital. I'm working on my next post but it is taking a little while. >_>
Please enjoy what they had to say. I certainly did and will always appreciate them.

The hospital was an interesting combination of emotion, excitement, awkwardness, and anxiety. We were extremely excited to look forward to seeing Jaden born. However, we were conscious of the fact that Kinzie would be sifting through an array of complicated feelings from pregnancy, delivery, medications, and specifically from placing Jaden for adoption. The silver lining in all of this was that we had an open adoption which we hope offered some comfort to Kinzie.

Leading up to the adoption, we felt extremely fortunate to have been able to spend such significant time with Kinzie between birth group, pre-natal appointments, and dinners to get to know her. All this time really made us feel comfortable being at the bedside for Jaden’s birth. We appreciated how much Kinzie thought of Jaden and us throughout her pregnancy. She was extremely selfless in how much she incorporated us. After Jaden was born, we were excited to finally be parents but the amount of respect and appreciation we felt for Kinzie for placing Jaden with us was and still is impossible to articulate.

Through the rest of the hospital stay, we struggled with knowing how pro-active to be in taking care of Jaden and Kinzie as we didn’t want to encroach on her time with Jaden or her family’s time with her and Jaden. Kinzie comes from a very friendly family so having her there along with Dawn and Chris made this transition easier. It also helped Kinzie was so open about when she needed us to help out. Those three days in the hospital were an anxious time for us and it was tough to have confidence in being parents, tough to have confidence that Jaden would be placed with us. Additionally, it was tough to be 100% happy because we knew Kinzie was starting walking down the most difficult road she would face in her life. Although we had never been in her situation, we knew she would experience the frustration, depression, anxiety, and longing that we had been experiencing as we battled through infertility and adopting. It was also tough to fight this constant flood of stories we had heard from others about failed adoptions and all the other heart-breaking adoption stories you hear as a prospective adoptive couple. After years of infertility, it was extremely difficult to feel confident and comfortable that you may actually have an opportunity to be a parent. You’re constantly emotionally hovering with infertility induced emotional insecurity despite succeeding in several other aspects of your life.

We spent a total of almost three days in the hospital. On the last day we spent the morning setting up the car seat, packing bags, and saying goodbyes. The most difficult part of the entire hospital experience was watching Kinzie have to say good-bye to Jaden from the hospital. It’s the only part of the experience that made us feel guilty. Did we need to feel that way – no; was there any validity in feeling that way – no, but we did because we had grown close to Kinzie and although we knew she would be a part of Jaden’s life, it was tough not to feel responsible for her feelings, her loneliness, and the hole in heart. She possessed a super-human level of faith, fortitude, and foresight. For that, we will always be grateful for her and we will ensure that Jaden learns to understand what a lucky boy he was to have Kinzie as his birthmom.

Straying a bit from the story...

I shared on my Twitter account not too long ago (maybe a few days), my blog. Most of my followers are friends. Friends that I do not have linked into my Facebook account. I thought that they may want to read my story as well. I was, instead, woken by this Tweet this morning.

7rin ‏@7rin

Lucky for @KinzieChan that labour's the most she'll suffer. The greatest pain #adoptees endure is being #abandoned to #adoption = #trauma

This actually hurt. I've heard many things in the past few months about what people think of what I've done. I've been called stupid and selfish but no one has ever told me that I abandoned my son. No one has ever said labor is the most painful thing I will ever suffer, equating the physical pain to the emotional hell I go through daily. I am a part of Jaden's life until Jon and Liz say otherwise. I am a part of Jaden's life until he is old enough to decide he doesn't want me to be a part of it. He will never be abandoned by me while I live.

I feel as though I was led to his parents. They are good, kind people who love him and I can see it every day when I look at past pictures and when I get new ones. They are not the kind of people to have a child of their own and decide that Jaden is no longer theirs. If they had been, I would not have even considered them. Besides, their extended families would not let them. They adore little Jaden as well.

I know I shouldn't let these things bother me, but I can't help it. I'm called a coward often, I'm called selfish weekly, I'm called stupid daily. I can't tell certain people about his adoption because of the reaction I know I will get. I know I shouldn't let these things get to me but I do. I do because I am scared emotionally.

The greatest pain a birthmother will ever know is having to wake up in the morning to their child not with them. The greatest pain is knowing that you can't love them as a parent. Because you decided that their growing up needed two parents. Because you decided that them growing up with a parent living paycheck to paycheck was not something any child should see.

Because I decided I wanted him to be happy and I knew he would not find it with me. Seeing his smiling face and how much he laughs and the love he has for his parents make me realize that even more.

The thing people like this don't realize is that, more often than not, I am a mess of emotions and will cry at random. I will cry myself to sleep or wait until I am stable to enough  to sleep to sleep quietly. I am broken. I don't think there is anything aside from drastic memory loss that can change this.

I did not abandon my son. I gave him the life he deserves.

And I dont need anyone telling me I don't love my son or that I traumatized him. 

Placement Pt.3

Now, when they say that labor is the greatest pain you will even endure, I would believe them. I had an epidural, so I did take the pussy way out. But believe me when I say when you are contracting every five minutes and you can barely speak during that brief sixty seconds when your entire midsection tightens (or, in my case, my back and midsection. I had back labor), you want all of the meds. Especially when you did not take any sort of birthing class whatsoever. When my dad called to say he was on his way home, that he had been allowed to cancel his business trip, I wanted to keep talking but I couldn’t.

                When it came time for the epidural (here on out called the epi, because I am lazy), he timed it just right so that I felt more of a contraction than I did that supposedly giant needle. The anesthesiologist that did mine was a rather smart man; he did not let me see the needle at all. Had he, I may have just changed my mind or freaked and gone into a panic attack. I am grateful that he did not let me see it and that, while yes it hurt, I barely felt it over the pain I was already in.

                Dawn was with me during this time, as well as Sarah (though I don’t remember if Sarah was in the room at the time) and Dawn at least was giving me words of encouragement. I held onto a pillow and watched my contraction monitor spike and then felt a rush of cold. I laid back down and was content, not feeling any pain anymore. I still felt breathy every time I had a contraction but I did not feel the pain that went with it. Best. Feeling. Ever. Or lack of feeling. Ever.

                Dawn systematically sent people texts after my epi letting them know I was in labor and at the hospital. My older sister Bre, who had a baby of her own in March, wanted to come down. She was the one I asked about labor symptoms the day before. She was concerned about something, though, and talked with me about it. I do appreciate her doing that and always will.

                She wanted to know if it was ok to bring Issac, my little nephew, down with her. She didn’t want me to be in pain seeing them together at my parent’s house. After all, she is happily married and can keep her child, whereas I am not and was not. She would be down for the week. I loved that consideration and honestly didn’t mind them being there. I knew it would be hard.

                Over the next couple of hours, people began to meander in. The hospital was very accomidating of my situation. Sarah, Dawn, Jon and Liz stayed the majority of the time with me, with my sister Kate childhood friend Heather coming in later, followed by my dad, sister Cheyenne and then finally Bre, who drove 2 ½ hours from Flagstaff.

                Ironically, I was watching TLC’s “I didn’t know I was pregnant” that whole time. I don’t know if it was a marathon or what, but it was fantastic.

                During this time, I was not allowed to eat. Of course. However, also during this time, each and every person who came to see me went to get food or talked about food. By the time I delivered, I had not eaten in almost 20 hours and I was ravenous. I wanted something! My labor pains through the night I was ok in not sharing with my family but my hunger pains during this time I was perfectly fine in sharing. They did not quite agree with this sentiment and ate anyway.

                I arrived at the hospital at about 7am, I want to say. We left at 6:30 and it was a decent drive. I’m a little fuzzy on that time exactly. But I can tell you that by 3pm. I was done with the whole thing. I loved the attention, talking with my family and Jon and Liz (who were probably just about impatient as I was) and overall feeling loved, but I was done. I was done on May 9^th. I was done on May 1^st. I was just done. So every time they checked how far I was dilated and it wasn’t 10cm, I was furious. I didn’t show it, of course. But I just wanted it to be done.

                Finally. FINALLY, at about 3:30 (and not long after Bre arrived), I was ready to start pushing. Again, I am fuzzy about times so it could have been later, it could have been earlier. They hadn’t brought the doctor in yet and the nurses were prepping me and giving me little words of encouragement. And when they first told me to push, no joke, my first thought was “how”?  That’s not exactly something that they tell you in the book.

                And this is something that I will take into account when I have another child: I wasn’t ready to push when they told me to. They told me to push during contractions: every contraction. I watched the monitor, but when they told me to push, I didn’t feel the need. I finally got what they meant and pushed when they told me but it just didn’t feel right. At one point, the contractions stopped completely. They gave me medication to get them going again. Then through the epi, I began to feel a little pressure. Every time I felt this pressure, whether they told me to push or not, I got the urge to push.

                So I told them I was going to and did. I could feel when the right time to push was and it was when they were telling me not to. If I remember correctly, I wasn’t supposed to push every time but every time they told me to push was when I didn’t really feel my body was ready to. Finally, I got the hang of it, they announced they could see a little crowning baby head of hair and got the doctor. The nurses were feeling around my stomach for where he was and how he was positioned and I will say that it is weird to see that definition of butt and leg where it wasn’t before and knowing where the rest of him is.

                At about 4pm, the doctor came in. She continued what the nurses were doing and asked me if I wanted Jaden placed on my chest after he was delivered. I knew what a bonding experience that was and told her no. I didn’t need that extra boost of pain. That didn’t sound all that appealing. She nodded and at 4:16pm, he was out and crying and she put him on my chest.

                There is an amazing, overwhelming feeling of love and joy when you first see that little bundle on your stomach. Its honestly painful even to recall. Because at that moment, I loved him more than I could say, more than I ever thought I possibly could. That was exactly the feeling I wanted to avoid. I didn’t want to have that bonding experience with him. He wasn’t coming home with me. I couldn’t comfort him during the night and snuggle up with him after he finished a bottle, or have him sleep on me while I watched tv. I couldn’t do anything a normal mother could and would because I’m not a normal mother. I’m a birth mother. And that was most painful of all.

 Jon snipped his cord and Liz made sure I was ok as they took him to weigh and check out. I could tell she wanted to go and see him so I said yes and she headed over.

                After the quick delivery of my placenta and some lovely clean-up work, I was a little bit more presentable to the rest of the world. Dawn and Liz were fawning over baby J, taking photos and talking. When they took him to bathe him, I wanted Dawn to do it. A nurse did it instead and I was a little irked by that. After all, I had this all planned out and they weren’t going along with my plan. They put him on me after he was born and they didn’t let her bathe him. I was frustrated and emotionally confused.

                Dawn said it was alright that she didn’t bathe him, she didn’t really care. I know she did. Cheyenne had her two kids in privacy with her husband, as did Bre with Issac. I was the only one who really was letting her do this.

                They bundled Jaden up and let me hold him for a spell while the others filed in to see how I was and if Jaden was cute, because lets face it. When people say all babies are cute, they’re lying. All babies are not cute. Babies are inherently funny looking after growing and spending nine months in a watery home. They’re wrinkly and fussy and mostly bald. Jaden was a little flaky from being in there too long, but he had long lashes, silken black straight hair, big pouty lips and a cute little button nose. He was seriously cute.

                And surprisingly light for our family. I was almost a ten pound baby and most of my siblings were in the same range. Issac was about there too. Jaden was 8lbs, 13oz. He was long still, but light for a Keller baby. My family had a bet on with the nurses about his weight. Needless to say, the nurses loved us. My family also had a bet going about whether or not he would have an afro. And no, he didn’t. He still doesn’t. Which I wanted and am perfectly ok with.

                We stayed in that room for some time and I was asked if I wanted to try to breast feed. Now, whether or not you breast feed, your milk comes in. Fun fact. So regardless of whether I actually fed him the milk or started trying to express, that milk would come in. I had discussed this with Jon and Liz earlier and said that I wouldn’t be breast feeding but I would pump. He needed that initial immune boost, after all. Well, he didn’t need it but it couldn’t hurt.

                So while the hospital prepared my food, I tried to pump and succeeded a bit but not much. I don’t really remember much that I would like to put in here. I mean, I could tell you about my awkward bathroom trip with two nurses, or my dripping blood, but I think I will avoid that and skip forward.

                I was moved into the largest room they had in their maternity ward. They gave Jon and Liz a room just down the hall from me. We gathered and mingled within my room for some time but I soon got tired and decided to try to sleep. I chose to have Jaden in the room with me while I was in the hospital.

                When you have a baby you know won’t be with you for much longer, though, any noises he makes will stir you. He whined and sighed and shifted and each sound woke me from whatever state of unconsciousness I was in at the time. I would get up and fix his swaddle or rub his stomach or just sort of stare at him. I couldn’t take the lack of sleep. I had been up for more than 24 hours at that point. It was actually nearing the 40 hour mark. I texted Jon and Liz and tried to drift after putting the little guy on my chest. But I was so concerned that he would fall that holding him didn’t do much but make me more tired.

                About an hour, maybe, after I texted them, Jon and Liz came to grab Jaden. I was grateful because I was exhausted but I wanted him in my room to get as much time with him as possible. I slept as much as I could in an unfamiliar bed with nurses poking me during the night.

Placement Pt.2

I had my first doctor’s appointment not too long after choosing Jon and Liz, having received my insurance information. I was able to get into a female doctor who was kind and very outspoken. The initial visit was with her NP and she was also a very fun woman. Though that visit was not fun (I had a good 6 months of doctor’s visits to catch up on), I was given a form so that I could have my first ultrasound and I knew exactly who I wanted to come with me.

                I asked Jon and Liz to come, as well as my sisters Kate (even though we were fighting) and Sarah (or maybe Sarah just tagged along), as well as Dawn. We went in together and I think the people at the center were wondering about my entourage. It was kind of fun.

                We found out almost immediately that it was a he and that he was a gigantic baby. He was measuring large and everything was going fine. We tried to see his face through the images but he insisted on covering his face and turning away. Which is exactly what I do when I don’t want my picture taken. It was a fun and scary experience. I was afraid something would be wrong and that it would show up on the scan. I hadn’t really taken care of myself in the months leading up to this point, though I started to take prenatals in January.

 I was scared that the people around me would laugh at my rapidly expanding, exposed belly and the exposed violently red stretchmarks. But no one did, and for that I was grateful. I honestly don’t think they were paying attention to me. Most eyes were fixed on the screen with someone occasionally asking if I was doing ok. For the most part, yes I was.

                I gave the scan images to Jon and Liz to take home and show family. I was happy for them and confused at the same time. This was a lot harder than I thought and I wished that I could be one of those uncaring mothers who just decided that they didn’t want their babies. But I wasn’t and around the same time, maybe a little bit earlier, than the ultrasound, I began going to a birthmother support group with my parents and felt a kinship with these women. They knew what I was going through, even if I didn’t talk too much at first. Did I mention that I’m awkward?

                In the group I made a few friends. More acquaintances. We talked a lot in group but not really outside of it. Except for Liz. This being a different Liz from the adoptive mother. Group Liz, she shall be referred to from here on out, I suppose. It can get confusing very easily!

                Group Liz and I hit it off and began hanging out outside of group. She was going through her second placement and knew exactly what I was going through and was able to help me a lot.  Regardless of what I felt, she knew what it felt like and could actually relate to it. I think having her in my life was the reason I was able to go through the placement in general. She was that steady rock I could fall back on and text through the long nights when I felt that there was no one there, when I just needed a friend.

                From the time of my first ultra to my due date, we saw a good half dozen movies, had dinner together with my couple and helped move from my old apartment with my sister to my new living arrangement in an…interesting house. (I saw we helped. In fact, we just sat on the couch and watched my dad and his home teacher move things. We’re useful!)

                After a while of going to group and various appointments, it came down to due date. By my last period, I was due in June. But I knew that was wrong, so it became a mad search for the phone in which was a text record that actually had a text about everything. After moving, I finally found it and by that date we were able to deduce that I was due on May 9^th of 2012. It was exciting and scary. Jon and Liz had to cancel a vacation that was around that same time to make sure they were here when he was born.

                Together (and through the suggestion of Group Liz), we came up with Jaden Christopher as the baby’s name. Christopher being my father’s name, I felt that at least my first born should bear that name, or some family name. It was actually a pain staking process coming up with that. I widled it down to Barrett (a family name on my grandmother’s side as well as my own middle name) or Christopher. I ran both by Jon and Liz. They left the final choice up to me, but I loved going through that process with them. It made me feel like, even though I wouldn’t be there for him always, he would know that I helped name him. That he shouldn’t feel that I abandoned him.

                Which is a fear of mine. That, even though this adoption is open, he will grow to resent me for placing him. I know it is foolish, but it is that fear and the fear that one day Jon and Liz will decide they no longer want me in their lives that keeps me awake at night. More on that one later.

                Groups with Jon and Liz and the other birth mothers was becoming routine, with dinners afterwards. After my last ultrasound (not to mention a pedi with Liz), I got to the point where not only did I not want to go to work (walking to work was not fun. Waddling was really no fun, either.  I over stretched a tendon in my groin that made every leg movement on my left side painful over time. I was having appointments twice a week to get an NST as well as an ultrasound to check on the general wellbeing of Jaden. My doctor was still unsure about my due date, since I was measuring different and so was he.

Working was hell. I work at a convenience store where everyone is an ass and no one is nice to you. Unless, of course, you’re pregnant and they just yelled at you. I got sick of it very quickly, especially since my boss was of the mind that pregnant women should bend and lift. After consulting with my doctor, and Group Liz, we decided that I should go on Maternity leave on May 1^st. I was relieved but scared. I was in a new place. Group Liz helped me through some of that and that time was when we saw the majority of our films and spent the majority of our time together. Even though I lived in Mesa and she lived in Queen Creek.

                Honestly, those last two weeks were the most terrifying. I wasn’t sure what I would feel when he got there and continued to mull over who I wanted in the delivery room with me. Being allowed three, I could have Jon and Liz (who were the constant two regardless) and Dawn (my stepmom), or those two and my oldest sister Bre or or or. There were too many people who wanted to be there and a limited number I could have. I knew I wanted Jon and Liz for sure but…

                I was also scared about what labor would feel like, how I would know and all that jazz. I had a book about it, of course, but I felt that even though the book was thoroughly informative it was also slightly terrifying. “If you’re feeling like X you could have Y which means that C is happening to the baby.” Not something I need to hear on a first pregnancy that had late prenatal care as well as it just being allover unplanned.

                While all of this was happening, my caseworker and I were having a time with getting the birth father’s consent. I had taken a trip down to Tuscon for a convention in March and that is where he happened to live. We got together at the hotel to talk about the adoption, Jon and Liz and whether or not he would consent. After a lot of talking, he finally agreed to it. Verbally at least, and I tried to set a date for me and my caseworker to come down to sign the papers. He kept putting it off.

                There are some things that you can do to get the birth father to sign away his rights to the child, including having him served. He has 30 days to respond to this, after which, if he does not respond, his rights are forfeit. If he responds within 30days, then the case would be taken to court, to see, I guess, who would be the more fit parent.

                After about three weeks of dicking us around, the birth father declared that he had changed his mind and he was determined that with a little can do attitude, a car and a stroller, he could raise Jaden with little to no problem. This irked me, because theoretically, I could do that too. I could have a can do attitude too. I can do it. But what kind of life would that leave him with? So no, I want him to have the life he was meant to have. I want him to have a mother and a father that are with him every day growing up loving and caring for him. Not a father who didn’t want him but decided to keep him.

                So my caseworker, Calli, and I began to search for him to serve him. It took some digging, trickery and elbow grease, but we were finally able to serve papers. (More trickery than anything). And because of the month waiting period, it wouldn’t be until June 4^th until Jon and Liz would know for sure whether or not that little bundle of joy was going to be part of their family for good or not. We set it up so that they could foster him after leaving the hospital during this time.

                During this time, I could have taken him home. I will cover this again, but let me cover it now.

                During this time, I could have taken him home and kept him with the understanding that Jon and Liz were his parents. Group Liz took her baby girl home the night before the placement firm in her understanding that her couple were the people meant for her child.

                I, too, was and still am sure that Jon and Liz are the people that are meant to raise Jaden. They are his parents. But there is a certain amount of bonding that happens between a mother and child, even when he is first placed on her stomach after delivery. Biology can sometimes win out over your decisions.

So on May 12^th, Birthmother’s Day, Jon and Liz and I went out for a nice Chipotle lunch. We talked about boundaries when baby J finally arrived. Again, I was afraid that I would overwhelm them with my questions, my need for pictures and just overall my presence as they settled into a new life with Jaden. They assured me that they would be there when I needed it, whether it be with pictures, a visit (when possible- they were moving) or just a little blurb about how he was doing that day. I set boundaries later on with my family regarding what was acceptable contact and what was not. I gave Liz a Mother’s Day present that day, as well as a bear for Jaden. It was a bear my dad had given me after a trip to London. For Christmas, he had given me a matching bear, which was larger. I called them Mommy and Baby bears. That way, at least he had a little piece of me with him as he grew, and I had the matching piece.

                I woke up on Mother’s Day with some cramps. A lot like period cramps. I texted my sister Bre to ask her about labor and what to look out for. The book I had could only tell me so much and they weren’t very descriptive about labor. So after a walk to the local Circle K, dinner and increasing cramps, I felt my first real contraction. I started tracking and alerting those who needed to be alerted. Jon and Liz prepared to meet me at the hospital when I sent word for them and by 8pm, I was about 15-20 minutes apart. I was taken over to my parent’s home where I tried to sleep. But whenever I drifted off, I began to contract.

                From about 11pm when everyone else went to sleep, until about 6am, I lay on the couch downstairs in full blown labor. Which let me tell you is the most painful thing I have ever experienced. I texted my sister Sarah at about 6am and asked if she was up. I honestly could have gone upstairs and woken them up at any time but I felt bad… I was up but that didn’t mean that they should be too. She grabbed my stepmom and at about 6:30am, we were on our way to the hospital.

                I alerted Jon and Liz and Dawn alerted my dad, who had left for travel. He was luckily, stuck on his way to Chicago and able to catch a flight home. I silently prayed and verbally joked that I hoped Jaden would wait for him to get there. I mean, I was in a lot of pain before the epidural. I didn’t want to wait for anyone but Jon and Liz at that point.

               

Placement Pt. 1

There are many misconceptions and stigmas surrounding the word “Birthmother”. People think of birthmothers as one of two things: a woman addicted to drugs or a woman who didn’t want their child. Shows like TLC’s “Birthmothers” does not help this when they show a very pregnant woman shooting up, smoking weed or doing any form of drug without stopping them.

                It is true, some women do not want their children and do decide to give them up for adoption. In those cases, it is sad and it is very tragic but sometimes it is for the best.

                In my case, I would have done anything I possibly could have to have been able to raise my baby to be healthy and happy.

                I found out I was pregnant in December of 2011, after skipping months of periods but having no other clues as to my possible pregnancy. I suspected I might be, but with my history of PCOS and the possibility of my having Endometriosis (I have a long family history of it); I simply thought that this was normal. I normally in a year skip three or more periods and don’t think anything of it. Of course, normally when I skip, I haven’t been sexually active.

                So when I found out, I was scared. I had just got a temp job for minimum wage, after all. I was broke. I had moved down to where I lived from a place where I had a secure job but no secure housing to a place where I had no job but secure housing. I spent three months donating plasma to pay rent, eating scraps as I tried to secure employment. I was dropping weight (which I didn’t mind, I was and still am overweight). To me, life was miserable, with nothing bright to look forward to. Especially with my trouble getting financial aid, I couldn’t go to school. Which was the entire reason for me moving down in the first place.

                I was confused, I was scared and overall, I was angry at myself. I had not taken care of myself in the least bit during crucial development periods of this fetuses life and part of me wished that it would go away. That the life I had obtained after moving from where I had been would go away. But it did not, and I could not abort a life that moved within me, that could be healthy, that could be loved. I could not bring myself to do it.

                I chatted with a friend of mine in England about all of the possibilities. She mentioned abortion, of course, and offered her support by saying, if I could get there, she would care for me during physical and mental  recovery. We looked up pricing and I cringed not only at the prices but at the mere idea of going through with it. We then talked about keeping, and what that would entail. Slowly, we shifted over to adoption, because I was certain that in my current situation, I would not be able to keep it. 

                Adoption is very close to my heart. My grandmother was adopted. My sister was adopted. My childhood friends, both of whom are more like sisters to me, are adopted. I have seen both sides of adoption. The happy and the unhappy. I considered this closely and wondered how I would go about contacting a couple, an agency, a lawyer… someone! She wasn’t sure…she lives in England. Laws and systems are very different over there. We both began looking on google.

                I came across a few websites that looked promising; a couple of the sites I found looked a little shady as well. I found a site with a gay couple who stood out to me. Their names were Jon and Ed and they were amazing. They had a little son they had adopted previously and their profile was everything I could ask for in a parent. Steady jobs, stable income, two parent home in a nice part of NYC and with plenty of extended family to love the child.

                I emailed them first. I am an inherently shy person. On the internet, I am loud; I am boisterous. In real life I have a very hard time talking to new people and even relating to the people around me. I mean, once I find a common ground, I get along with people just fine. It may take me a while though… I am just awkward!

                So I emailed them, explaining my situation and that I had not had medical confirmation of my pregnancy yet. They were kind people, loving. They let me know about them and their lives, sending me pictures of them and their family and offering to call. Again, I am a very shy person so I was a little bit nervous. I also at this time did not have a phone. After a little bit of convincing, I was able to use my sister’s. We talked for a little while about me and my interests and their interests and who I was. It was kind of nice to not have to talk about the fact that I was pregnant. Up to this point the only people who knew that I was, was Clair (my British friend), Kate (my sister) and her boyfriend at the time. Being able to talk to them without the fear of harsh judgment was what I felt that I needed at the time.

                I had no idea how the rest of my family would react, so I neglected to tell them. In hindsight, that was not the brightest thing to do, but when you’re scared and feel like those closest to you will be harsh and not understanding, you do stupid things to avoid the potential of pain.

                After talking to Jon and Ed for a little bit, they asked that I sent a picture of myself. I let them know that the baby would be half black and that I didn’t have a picture of dad and they were fine with that. They just wanted to know what I looked like for now. I sent it and our time chatting grew a little bit longer through emails and I began to feel a real connection with them. They were, as I thought, meant to be my child’s parents if I could not be.

                I began contemplating what would happen during the months of my pregnancy if I didn’t tell my parents. It would be awkward, I may not have the best relationship with them, but I talk to them often so they would definitely think something was up if I did not keep in contact. Jon and Ed encouraged me to tell my parents about everything, including my choice.

                When I went to get the official test to confirm pregnancy, I made up my mind and decided that after I got the confirmation, I would tell my parents. My sister Sarah picked me up and we told her first. Her reaction was kind of funny and we talked about things on the short ride home. My stepmom said she was worried when I said I wanted to talk to her but not over the phone and said that it was one of two things. I don’t remember the first one but the other one was that I was pregnant.

                After sort of laughing and saying “number two,” my sister Cheyenne got uncomfortably close to see if she could feel the baby. Which she could. We moved into the living room and began to talk about my stepmom’s suspicions of something being up and what I was planning. She was not too happy about the choice of couple, but didn’t really say anything. I could see it in her face, but she was good about not voicing her opinions. She decided after a little bit of convincing from me to tell my dad. Not my favorite time. I heard he did not take it well. When he came to talk to me, I felt as though he was not looking at me the way he used to. He avoided any possible eye contact with my stomach (which seemed to have decided that ballooning out immediately after I said “ok, I’m pregnant” was a great idea).

                I switched jobs and got onto AHCCCS, Arizona’s healthcare program. I contacted Jon and Ed’s adoption lawyer and she sent me a packet of information and forms about my health and family history to be filled out.

                If I remember correctly, I told the birth father before all of this that I was pregnant. If Facebook messages are right, then I told him in January. He asked if I would abort it when I told him my plans. I told him no. I told him about the family and he was sort of unhappy that they weren’t going to be black and then asked what I would do if he said he could raise him. Having given this some very painful thought, I told him I couldn’t do anything about it but that what I was planning was not only the best for his future but for ours. He agreed to signing papers if he needed to, and I wasn’t sure whether or not he was agreeing because it was what I wanted, or because it got him out of the picture.  

                I cannot necessarily blame the birth father for reacting how he did, as I did not tell him until I was far along. But then again, I didn’t know until I was further along. I had to have his permission to place the baby, though and that proved to be tricky. (More on that later).

                I filled out as much of the medical and family paper work as I possibly could.

                And that is where I hit a snag with them. Their lawyer advised them to not contact me again until I had sent back in those forms. But I had still not seen a doctor (I had to wait for confirmation that I was approved for insurance and for the card, a process which could take up to one month). In order for me to send back the forms, I would need to sign a release for ALL of my medical history. If I had a personal OBGYN, this wouldn’t actually be an issue. I, of course, couldn’t afford to see a doctor by myself.

                During this time, I began to feel abandoned by the potential parents of my child. I sent them emails and texts, letting them know I was worried, as well as their lawyer, and I did not hear back from them, except for the lawyer letting me know that she had advised against further contact until I got those forms sent in.

                I think that was really the tipping point. I had been emotionally not doing well, fighting constantly with my sister (who was also my roommate) and her boyfriend and had been feeling like I was a failure for even being in the situation I was in. I began contemplating keeping it again, formulating a plan in my mind that would involve me living at my parents for about a year while I attended Vet Tech school and worked nights. I discussed it with my dad and then my stepmom and we painfully shot the idea down. That was probably the hardest day for me up to that point. I was hormonal and just sobbing into the phone.

                With a little nudge from my parents, I decided to look in state for potential parents. I wanted an open adoption, after all, and them living in Arizona would be easier.

                I found a few couples who seemed ok, and was hooked up with one through my sister, Sarah. The other one, Jon and Liz, I found online. I emailed Liz and we went back and forth. I gave my number in the initial email (if I remember correctly) and let her know she was free to text me but I wasn’t quite ready to talk talk yet. She was understanding and we went back and forth through email for a while to set up a time and place to meet. I asked if my stepmom could come with and she agreed.

                The other couple was very talkative and upbeat, ready to adopt their second child. Possibly third, if their other birthmother decided to place with them.

                I met with Jon and Liz first, having Filliberto’s and talking about what we liked, did etc. and what we both expected out of the adoption. I let them know that I am very involved in the Gay community, specifically for rights and that it would be important for me if the child grew up knowing that, even though you may not be accepted in all walks of life, that being gay is nothing to be ashamed of. I also told them that I wanted to be as involved in its life as possible. Luckily, they wanted that too. We discussed religion as well. They were open, caring and truly longed for a child. I was instantly drawn to them and their sincerity.

                Later that night, I went out to dinner with the other couple. They were as rambunctious in person as they were on the phone and reminded me of my sister Sarah. Their child was walking and curious about everything. They were about as open to my expectations as Jon and Liz were, and were closer to me than Jon and Liz. I liked them, I truly did. But while I could see them as good parents, I couldn’t see them as the parents of my child.

                I mulled over the decision, going back and forth with my stepmom as to who each of us liked and the pros and cons. I was hesitant and not sure what to do and she saw that. So she gave me a deadline. I had two days to decide. I called my grandma and my dad and talked to both of them, telling them about each couple and asking advice from both of them. They both, of course, told me that it was my choice and that I needed to make the choice I felt was right. (They both compared Jon and Liz to my older sister Bre and her husband, though, and I liked that thought).

                And I felt that Jon and Liz was the right choice. As did my stepmom. I gave them a call the next day (the day after that?) when I went to grab groceries. Liz answered her phone and I couldn’t tell if she was bracing herself for bad news or was just excited to hear what I had to say. I told her that I would like them to be the parents of my child and I think that she started crying. I’m not sure, but she definitely sounded elated.

                She thanked me and asked what she could do to help me and at that time, I honestly didn’t know. Aside from the obvious. After a few moments of talking with her (and several dropped calls on my end), I let them go to tell their families.

                I felt good. Probably the best I had felt in a while. Like it was meant to be them. I could see them with the kid and it made me happy. 

I'm going to stop here for today. It's a long tale, and I will pick it up again soon.