I was 20 years old when I found out I was pregnant with my third child. All from different relationships. My life was way off track. I wasn’t handling my present dilemmas – I didn’t need to create more. When I found out again that I was pregnant, it was the point in my life where I knew changes had to be made. For my children and myself. They say you have to hit rock bottom to see up, and I was there. I knew in my heart I couldn’t have an abortion. My two boys were a great reminder of why I couldn’t choose to parent again. Adoption was my choice.
I called, and then went to an adoption agency. My body was full of nervousness, but my heart was full of truth. When I received a book of family profiles, I took it to my kitchen table and took a deep breath. It was kind of a strange feeling to be choosing parents for my baby. The very first profile I read, something just clicked. Of course I read all the others to make sure I covered my options, but I returned to the first. I then setup a meeting with them.
Nervousness, again, as I sat in the office waiting to meet the parents I chose. How should I act? What should I say? Or ask? My caseworker reminded me that they were just as nervous. When it was over, I knew they were the ones. Don’t get me wrong – millions of emotions ran through my body with every step I took, but the strongest was, “ I know what I’m doing is best for my baby and myself.”
January 16 my son was born. When I saw him I knew I had to hold him and love him now. I talked to him, telling him how much I loved him and why I was making these choices. (Obviously, this conversation was for me, because he could only stare at me with his big, dark blue eyes.)
The first real ache I felt was when the parents came in and I handed him to them. I could feel the lump in my throat, and my eyes swelled with tears. Then, as I looked at them holding him and loving him, I could see the joy and excitement in their eyes, and I was proud to have made a decision that would benefit everyone and bring such joy. They took him to the nursery to get the scoop on everything. I had my caseworker have him brought back to me one last time. This time I cried hard. I kissed and hugged him, but all the time I knew I couldn’t have made a better choice for my baby.
I receive letters and pictures, and I love and look forward to every one. I also look forward to a day of being reunited.
My name is Stacie, and I am 22 years old and just starting college. My life is finally where it should be.
Single mom of two boys
Birth father not involved