Strength

"I know God wouldn't give me anything I can't handle; I just wish he didn't trust me so much"

I have met plenty of people throughout the past 28 years of my life. Very few of those people have any idea of what I've been through, including some of our family. Of the people who do know, the responses seem to be the same, the generic: "Wow, I'm too selfish to make that kind of sacrifice" or "Whoa, I don't know how you did it". The general consensus is that I am a strong woman, for making it through life everyday, and not giving up when the going got tough. Is that really strength? I don't feel all that strong sometimes, that's for sure.

I've come a long way from the girl I was when I was pregnant with Hope. Already a single mom of C, I couldn't even believe that there was a baby growing inside of me. Finding out that my pregnancy test came back positive was one of the worst days of my life. I was in complete shock that I was pregnant. I had a baby at home that had just turned a year and 4 months when I found out I was expecting. There was no way that something like that could happen to a girl like me. But it was happening and for the longest time, I was in denial.

I had scheduled an abortion for a few weeks after I found out I was pregnant. I couldn't handle the responsibility of another child, and there's no way I could possibly have any kind of relationship with the baby's father, because he was just a fling. Leading up to that day, I managed to alienate myself from any source of support I could possibly have. I pushed away all my friends, and there was no way I could tell my family. I was headed to the clinic on my own, praying that things would be quick and easy and no one would ever know my sins. But I never made it there. I passed the church, and something told me to stop there, and I did. It was the one day I was able to talk to God openly, and come to an agreement with him that this baby was a blessing, just not for me at that moment. It was then that it was decided that I would place the baby for adoption. But even after that moment, I was in denial that this was really occurring.

I worked retail at the time of my pregnancy, and every time a customer would ask me when I was due, I'd angrily say, "Oh, I'm not pregnant, I'm just fat", and they would walk away with their tail in between their legs. I felt that if I didn't acknowledge that I was pregnant, it wasn't really happening. I was a college student, a single mother, a daughter, a girl who grew up going to Catholic school for 8 years and was fairly educated. Stuff like that didn't happen to girls like me. But it did, and I was due to have a baby in a few months. Those were the worst months of my entire life.

There were days I would cry myself to sleep, hoping and praying that God would take me in my sleep. Every time I would get in the car to drive somewhere, I prayed to get into a bad car accident. I would hope to fall down stairs or for something bad to happen to me. I didn't want to live with the guilt and sadness I felt. I didn't want to face the disappointment on my parents faces when I told them I was pregnant. I didn't want to feel anything at all, and wished that it would just all go away. I even got no prenatal care because I was in such denial, and couldn't bear to go to a doctor to acknowledge this baby was growing inside of me. I wished that I would wake up from this bad dream and it would be gone. But that wasn't the case.

I got through the pregnancy, with the support of the few coworkers I had, and towards the end, as I was picking families, my friends came back around. I still lacked the strength to tell my parents, so I wrote them a 6 page letter, front and back, that explained everything: my mistakes, my guilt, and how my intentions were never to hurt anyone by keeping this deep, dark secret. I had hoped to give it to them weeks before the baby came into the world, but that wasn't the case. Hope came into the world at the least expected time. I had to wake up my dad and tell him. He had to call my mom who was at work and tell her. I hurt them both, badly, and its probably one of the worst things I could have done.

I went through labor and delivery. I went through the heavy pain in my heart knowing that I would have to put her in the hands of another couple and leave the hospital empty handed. I went through the never-ending questions, and seeing the heartbreak in my parents and sisters eyes for not having the preparation for something so big and personally catastrophic. It was awful.

I only remember bits and pieces of that weekend I was in the hospital. I wish I could remember all of it, but I can't. I can't remember what she was wearing the day I last held her. I can't remember what she smelled like, or looked like. I can't remember what color was her car seat. All I can remember is the stabbing pain I felt in my heart, and how I never ever want to feel that way ever again. On September 11, 2005, I said goodbye to a piece of my heart that I will never get back. She got into one car, and I got into another, and without a promise as to when we will meet again, we went our separate ways.

The past 5 1/2 years have been a journey. The relationship with my family has definitely had its ups and downs, and it has taken a lot to get through it all, because mending broken hearts and broken trust is not easy. The pain in my heart has not gone away, and I don't think it ever will. On holidays and her birthday, I'm reminded of her and wonder if she will ever want to find me. When I see families with little girls near her age at the park or the store, my heart aches as I try to think about what she's like. I dream about what her voice and laugh sounds like. I wonder about what her favorite color may be, or what's her favorite thing to do or watch on TV.

I am blessed to get pictures and letters of her. I am so lucky to know that I picked the best family I possibly could for her. I am happy knowing that she has an amazing life that I could've never been able to provide for her at that moment in my life. I made the ultimate sacrifice when I handed that piece of my heart over to another couple to give her all of their love in every way possible, but it was the best sacrifice, for her and for C. There's not a day that doesn't go by without a thought of her, wondering what she's doing or where she is going. Granted, there are days when I hurt more than others, but I get through those days, and realize that God had a so much bigger plan for me. He wouldn't have let this happen to me if he didn't think I could survive it, and I have, and am, every day of my life.

I guess people are right. I am strong after all. I guess I do have it within me to get through the tough times. I've learned to put my trust in God, and the fact that he has a bigger plan for me, C and Hope gives me the strength on the days I want to do nothing but cry and hurt because I miss her so much. I have to keep reminding myself that the best is yet to come because that little girl may grow up to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a police office, and that would have never been possible had I not given her life. I just have to remind myself that I am strong, and to keep pushing on during the dark days and never give up on this journey called life.

Single Mom

I had a conversation with someone I've known since high school today that really has had the wheels in my head spinning. This person is currently pregnant with her first child. She lives a cookie cutter life of being educated, having a career, meeting Mister Right and marrying him, buying a house, and now having a baby. She's the kind of girl who talked about all these things since high school and now she is living out each of the items on her checklist. Good for her.

I, on the other hand, NEVER had a checklist. I grew up promising myself (and the world) that I wasn't going to have children when I got older. I had plans of a career in law enforcement, nice cars, a large house, and plenty of vacations. Not once in my big picture did I have a husband or children on that list. I knew at a young age that I didn't want to carry the title of a person who is responsible for the upbringing of a child. Fast forward to two years after I graduated high school, and I was staring at a positive pregnancy test.

YIKES...

I still remember the day in March of 2003 that I found out I was pregnant. I had just turned 20 years old and didn't have the slightest clue as to what a MAJOR responsibility was. I had been dating C's dad for about a year and a half by then, which was hardly a long time at all. I had a feeling deep inside of me that I was pregnant, but I had taken several home tests and they all came out negative. C's dad and I decided to go to Planned Parenthood and take a test there. That's when I got the news that I was pregnant and due that November. I felt like a ton of bricks had just fallen on top of my head. I couldn't move or think or say a word.

C's dad was ecstatic. He was so happy that we were going to have a baby. When I came to my senses, all I could see was my future being flushed down the toilet. What was I going to do? Where was I going to live? How was I going to survive off of a retail salary from both he and I? What the heck was I thinking?! I remember crying my eyes out once we got to the car. C's dad got so angry with me. "Why are you crying? You should be happy! We are going to have a baby and have our own family and be happy." That just made me cry more, because deep down in my heart, I knew I wouldn't be happy. This wasn't in my life plans.

For a good month and a half, I struggled with the decision of going through an abortion. I knew that me having a baby would break my parents heart, and having an abortion would leave no proof, other than a hole in my heart. Ultimately, I couldn't do it. We ended up telling my parents that I was pregnant on April 23, a day I am most likely never to forget. It was the day I broke my dad's heart, as he learned that his little girl was no longer a little girl anymore. While I don't remember the details of our conversation, I just remember my dad asking us how we were going to fix this. He said we had to get married if we were planning on having this baby. Umm.... once again, this wasn't in my life plans either!

My dad had left to Mexico  for his annual trip to visit my grandmother a few days later. He was very hurt by the news and made sure I knew that. While he was gone, we looked at chapels and churches and also at rings. I guess we had a wedding to plan for. SCARY.

While dad was gone, he had called from Mexico. We had a talk about everything and he told me that I didn't have to get married if I didn't want to. He said while it would be the ideal situation, marriage is a once in a lifetime thing and should be saved for people who truly loved one another. A baby was no reason to force marriage upon us. Being young and naive, I insisted that was what needed to happen because this baby needed to have a mom and dad. Although he was hurt, my dad said he supported whatever decision I made, but reminded me that I didn't have to if I didn't want to. It wasn't until I was older that I realized that dad saw things I didn't see.

A few months into my pregnancy, at nearly 20 weeks, I found out that my cervix was "short" and I had to be placed on bed rest. Seriously? I was 20 years old!!! I didn't want to stop living my life and stay in bed all day and all night, but I had to. If I wanted this baby to be healthy, I had to make sure to do whatever it took for him to survive and not make an early appearance, this included putting our wedding on hold. 8 years later, I truly believe that being placed on bed rest was an unofficial sign from God.

During the time I was home, I had PLENTY of time on my hands. I had time to think and be online and research. Research I did do. At 7 months pregnant and almost a year of being suspicious about his lies, I found out that C's dad had been cheating on me, with a wide array of girls (they were hardly women). I was devastated to think that the person whom I was supposed spend the rest of my life with would do that to me. I was sacrificing living my life for this baby, OUR baby, and he was out screwing around on me. It was the biggest betrayal I had ever felt in my life. I remember feeling numb with pain. It was the most awful feeling to be hurt like that. A feeling that I would never wish upon even my worst enemy.

For the couple of months leading up to C's delivery, from the time I found out about the infidelity of the person who had promised my parents and I that he would be there to accept the responsibility of husband and father, I tried my best to forgive and forget. I tried to think about the future and not the past, but it was too difficult. His manipulative ways were finally visible, and I was able to see through the facade he put up as someone who wanted nothing but the best for me and our baby, and see him as the lying, cheating, abusive selfish jerk that he was. 5 weeks after C was born, his "dad" verbally and physically abused me for the last time. I knew that I had someone else to live for, and I would never let my son be a witness to something like that. That was the beginning of my new life.

From that day forward, I was a single mother. I never realized how much that label carried until I was one. Waking up in the middle of the night for feedings. Giving baths. Changing diapers. Learning how to be a mom, as I went back to school when he was 3 months old, was one of the most difficult things I had ever had to do. There would be nights where I would cry, asking God why this happened to me. This wasn't on my checklist of life and I had to be the one to pay for the mistake I made by not choosing wisely. Had it not been for my parents, I would've never gotten through the past 7 1/2 years since C was born.

C would cry, and I would take him to my parent's room. When he was sick, I didn't know what to do, and went straight to my parents. I was so resentful for the life I was "stuck" with, that I found any excuse I could use to get out of the house. "School", "study groups", "projects", etc. I didn't want to be a mom. This wasn't fair. I didn't want to do this alone. I only thought about myself. Till this day, one of the biggest regrets I have ever had was letting mom and dad fill in when I couldn't. It should have been me doing all the work of taking care of him and raising him, BUT it wasn't. I can't take full credit for C being the AMAZING child that he is today because I haven't done most of the work needed to rear him. In that aspect, I feel like a failure. But I am so thankful for having their support to get through it all.

C's "dad" has been out of the picture for the past 5 1/2 years. He hasn't seen him since he was 2 years old, and really only started caring to ask about him over the course of the past year, as he is now a father to two of his own children (he's also married as well) and seeing what he is missing out on. It's way too late to try to fix what he has broken. C will ask questions from time to time about him, and while it's hard for me to answer, I do my best to explain to him the situation. He now calls him his "fake dad". He recently asked me when we could find him a "real dad."

As a mom, I strive to give my son everything I possibly can. I would hand him the moon if I could. It breaks my heart to not be able to give him the basic gift of a loving, responsible, respectful and consistent father. It makes me want to cry when I hear him talk about how "everyone" has a dad but him. He said he wishes he had a dad of his own, and not a grandpa that he calls dad. It's so painful to hear an innocent child talk that way. But such is the life of a woman working hard to do the job of a mother and father. A woman who isn't there to drop off her son and pick him up from school or volunteer in his class because I am busy working so that I can pay his tuition. A woman who struggles to give him the needs and wants of a 7 year old boy. It hurts my heart when I do my best to give him everything he needs, except the one thing that EVERY boy needs - a dad.

Had someone summed it up for me as to how hard this would be, maybe I would've made different life choices 10 years ago. Maybe I wouldn't have. While each day of being a single mother is a sacrifice, it is also very rewarding. The prize of having an amazing son who is smart, healthy compassionate and kind is the best thing I could have ever asked for. When I complain about all that I give up, I stop and think about him, and realize that his happiness is worthwhile. I love being a single mom - C's mom

It's That Time of Year Again

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born.  She never existed before.  The woman existed, but the mother, never.  A mother is something absolutely new."
  ~Rajneesh

I have been celebrating Mother's Day every year for the past 8 years, since I was pregnant with C. I will never forget that awkward Mother's Day when my parents had only known I was pregnant for 2 weeks at that point. It was tough for our whole family as well as myself to accept that in just 6 months from that point, I would be an actual mother. I was only 20 years old.

Of the past 8 years, 5 of those years have taken an emotional toll on me. I would say 6, but the Mother's Day I was pregnant with Hope, I was in denial that that was actually happening to me. Every year, I get bitchy, and sad, and mean, and angry and I tend to push people away from me. I get overwhelmed with these emotions and rather than do something productive to honor my daughter who I haven't held in my arms these past 5 1/2 years, I cave. I fall into this deep, dark area in my heart that takes me a long time to get out of.

I wish I could just embrace the fact that I am obviously still a mom and should celebrate the gifts God has given me. I am C's mom. I am also Hope's mom, regardless of if she knows I exist or not. I wish I could be happy for these little blessings and miracles of life rather than keep punishing myself for the mistakes I made. I wish these tears would stop falling from my eyes and that this feeling of sadness starting weeks prior to Mother's Day would just wash away, and I could be happy and free once again.

I tried to explain this to J, since day one when we started dating nearly 5 months ago. It's so easy to tell someone "Btw, there are two times out of the year that I get pretty emotional -- Mother's Day and her birthday." He probably thought 'this won't be that bad'. But it's pretty bad. There's nothing worse than being told by your boyfriend that you are no longer the girl that he first started dating, and he just wants his girlfriend back. Sigh.... but this IS ME! This is a part of who I am. I so badly wish it wasn't, but it is, and take it or leave it, but that emotional wreck that comes only two times a year is the same girl who was amazingly happy and positive for the first 3 1/2- 4 months of our relationship! I'm so glad he hasn't taken the fact that I push him away personally. I hope he doesn't give up on me when I need him there for me the most. It's really difficult to be needy and to want to be comforted, and I'm glad that he does it regardless. I am super lucky to have him as my boyfriend and am thankful that I have someone so supportive by my side.

There are two more weeks until Birthmothers Day and Mother's Day, so I know this won't be the first of this empty feeling. I am thankful for the love and support that I have from my close friends and from J. I am so glad that I have things such as work, and school, and C to occupy my time and get through another year marked off the calendar. A few more weeks of pushing myself to get through the days without crying because I am tired of being sad.

Who Am I?

I realized that I can't just start a post without even introducing myself. I'm C&H's Mama. I am a 28 year old woman who has been through her fair share of ups and downs and has survived them all to tell about it. I am C's mama. He's my totally amazing 7 1/2 year old son who I'd give the world to. I've been a single mom since he was a month old, and we have found ourselves doing alot of growing up together. He's my totally amazing 7 1/2 year old son who I'd give the world to. I am extremely blessed to have such a great kid like him in my life.

I am also a birthmom to Hope. She is a completely adorable little angel who is 5 1/2 years old. She was adopted at birth by an incredible couple who love her to death. We have a semi-open adoption. Our agreement was pictures and letters 4 times a year (if I'm lucky). While it can be frustrating at times, I am totally thankful that she was placed to such a loving family who want only the best things for her. I sometimes wish our adoption plan had been formatted differently, but I knew very little at the time of what I was getting myself into at the time of placement. While I miss her with all of my heart, I don't regret the adoption at all., especially when I see that smiley face of hers in the pictures I get.

My life has certainly had its fair share of struggles, and nothing about what I've gone through has been easy. If I were to sit here and write about everything in my life that has gotten me to this point in my life where I feel compelled to share my thoughts and feelings to the world, I would be writing for days. But I'm not going to. Instead, I am going to share little by little what has made me ME, and what it's like to live everyday with a piece of my heart missing, all while trying to be strong for my son and everyone and everything else around me. If this blog helps someone one day, and they say, "Hey, I never thought anyone else in the world felt like that" or "Wow, I guess I'm not alone afterall", then this blog would be so incredibly worth it.