So, I am just a little bit out of the loop! Actually, I had taken myself out of the on-line adoption community about 8 years ago, after spending several years on the parentsplace adoption boards, due to "adoption overload."  My whole existence was seemingly saturated in it, and I needed a break.  I have decided I have a responsibility to return and get back on the "reform" band-wagon.

A little about me and my story: I became pregnant back in the summer of 1984. I was BARELY 17 at the time, and suffice to say, I was terrified. I stayed in denial for a good 4-5 months until my Mom cornered me and asked the million dollar question..."Amy, when was your last period?" Huh? Uh, like 5 months ago? It all hit the wall at that moment. "This baby will be given up for adoption" was the first statement out of her mouth, and true to her word, she and my father made sure it happened.  I was still with my baby's father, and although his mother tried to think of alternatives, adoption was the winning decision.  I went to my first OB appointment in October, given my first "internal" exam EVER, and sent to another office for an ultrasound. The u/s showed I was 22 weeks pregnant with a little girl. I heard her heart beat, and immediately fell in love. My next appointment was with Homes of St. Mark...the adoption agency. I stayed in my original school until right before Christmas. My Mother insisted that no one know about my condition, and due to my "low grades," I was transferring to a private school (pregnancy school) until my grades returned to normal (until my figure returned to it's pre-baby state).  Since I was finally beginning to show, Mother arranged for me to take my mid-year finals in the counselor's office, and then after the Christmas holidays, I was off to a Homes of St. Mark foster family and new school. Yep, I had to leave my home to go live with strangers...albeit they were a nice family.  I stayed there from early January of 1985 til my daughter was born in early March.

Was adoption what *I* wanted? Absolutely NOT. Did I voice this? FREQUENTLY. Once when I talked to my parents about wanting to keep my baby, my Mom took me to see a psychologist. I don't remember exactly what was said, but it wasn't favorable to my cause. When I voiced my doubts on adoption with my social worker, Mrs. Houston, she immediately set up a meeting with me and my parents (who she knew favored adoption) in her office for the next day. At that time, she had me make a "pro/con" list of parenting and a "pro/con" list for adoption. Every PRO I had for parenting, she shot down. I guess she could tell I came from an upper middle class family because when we were discussing how I would clothe "THE baby" she said "Well, I hear K-mart has decent children's shoes." I was kind of confused by what she meant, but then it dawned on me...she thought I would see buying shoes at K-mart as "beneath me."  Like "Oh God! No child of mine shall ever wear K-mart shoes!! Adoption it is!!"  Then, as it became more and more apparent that I was STILL wavering on adoption, she pulled out the big gun...this new option that hadn't been tried at their agency before...semi-open adoption. My boyfriend and I would "get" to choose the parents, AND we would get pictures for the first two years periodically! We would know our baby was healthy and happy, and we would actually know her name, and that of her parents! Now, although this was presented to us as having control over the process and where our child would end up, bear in mind that our choices of parents were at their discretion. The social worker would choose 3 type-written autobiographies of hopeful adoptive parents and from those 3, we would make our decision. So, it made it LOOK like we had some power, but in reality, they were still very much in charge. Another manipulative, coercive tactic made available ONLY after we made it known we were unsure with adoption.

Let's back track to my parents a bit... I was told in no uncertain terms that if I kept the baby, I would have to find us a new place to live. My Dad told me that, although it would break his heart, if he had to come to my tiny apartment to see that we only had cold cereal to eat, he would know that this was what I had chosen and he would have to accept it.  My Mom said while we were driving home from the psychologist's office that "In many cases, grandparents help out with clothing and odds and ends for their grandchildren. But in this case, there would be none of that from me."  Whether that would have changed had I stood my ground, it probably would have...looking back now. At the time, I HAD to believe them. I knew I would be on my own with a tiny baby, with nowhere to live, nothing to eat, and absolutely NOTHING to offer her. Everyone was telling me my baby would suffer, and I would rather have died before that happened. So in the end, on March 6th, 1985, I left a crying baby in a little clear cradle in a hospital nursery to head out into the humid, hot Houston, Texas afternoon, and to a life it would take me quite sometime to understand was now mine.  The life of a birthmother...cold, lonely, empty, sad, FOREIGN. I didn't recognize myself anymore. I had been forever changed. On March 7, 1985...when my daughter wasn't even technically 48 hours old, I signed a paper basically admitting I was abandoning my child forever...although I didn't know at the time that it was actual abandonment that allowed for her to be adopted. No one ever explained the legalities of ANYTHING to us, except that it wasn't necessary for us to show up to court in 6 months, and that we probably wouldn't even be notified. I didn't even understand why anyone needed to go to court in 6 months. I had no clue as to how this process worked. I only knew that I had never felt such emotional pain or torment in all my life, and that EVERYTHING in me said "Go get your baby!!" But it was silenced when the words "She will suffer" crept in, and I squashed the idea. Oh how I wish I had listened to that inner voice. God gives it to us for a purpose, and I rejected it. I knew adoption wasn't right for us, but I wasn't strong enough to stand up to the powers that be. It will never be lived down.

I'm going to stop now. There's a lot more to my story, but I've got plenty of time to tell it. I wish it had a happy ending...