High School Sweetheart

1985, it was the beginning of my Sophomore year in High School.  I was already pretty much in shock, trying to get use to walking through halls where we were packed in like sardines.  The junior high I came from was tiny compared to the other two junior highs that were also funneled into this High School. 

My best friend Paige grabbed my arm after first period when she saw me in the hall.  "I want you to meet someone".  I told her "I have no interest in a boyfriend since Brad ripped my heart out last year".  Paige rolls her eyes at me and literally drags me through the hall.

When Paige has her mind made up to do something she does it...

I keep protesting.  Paige tells me "Trust me, this is your Prince Charming.  You two will be perfect for each other".  Well, that's Paige for you, the hopeless romantic.

She drags me around the corner, stops, grabs my shoulders to straighten me.  I look back at her, I'm pissed, I told her this was crazy, I have no interest in guys since Brad broke up with me.  She grabs my head and turns it so I am looking at him.  Paige whispered in my ear, "What about Brad?" and I whisper back "Who?"

Standing before me was him, I melted, he was tall, blonde, had the most beautiful crystal blue eyes and when our eyes met he had a goofy half smile.  He had broad shoulders, like he was a football player...I wanted to touch his shoulders.  I came to his shoulders, more like his armpits, I guess that not unusual when you are barely over 5'1".  He had a short friend on one side of him who reminded me of Booger from Revenge of the Nerds.  He had another friend on the other side of him who I didn't really notice.  All I could see was him.

Paige was talking, I don't know what she said, I didn't hear her...or anyone else in the crowded hall.  I was mesmerized.  The only thing I heard was his name, Mike and Mike asking me for my phone number.  Paige grabbed my arm and told me we had to go, the break was over and we needed to get to class.  My body felt like jello, but Paige dragged me off.

I spent the rest of the school day in a daze.  Mike, Mike asked me for my phone number, Mike.

Mike and I were officially dating, we were a typical couple, nothing exciting.  We would break up every once in a while and when Mike heard I was dating he would always show back up and we would once again become a couple.

By the time our Junior year rolled around Mike and his friends started using drugs (and alcohol) a little more, almost to a point to where it was becoming a problem.  Mike would always try to pressure me into smoking pot, dropping acid or using X (which was legal at the time).  I always refused, I was vain, I would tell him I didn't want to age dramatically, loose my hair and teeth by the time I was 30.  (This really did happen to a family member of mine, so thank God for my vanity!!)

When we got to our Senior year my whole world revolved around Mike.  Mike was my everything, we were planning on going to the same college and getting married after we graduated.  We had plans for the future and our future included us growing old together.  I loved him, I fell hopelessly in love with him the day my friend Paige dragged me to meet him and it was obvious he loved me too.

The spring semester in our Senior year started.  Mike asked me one night why I was starting to get fat, I told him I was pregnant and I was scared to death.  He said "I suppose you expect me to marry you now?" I told him I didn't want him to marry me because of the baby, I would only marry him if he wanted to marry me.  Of course he started freaking out, like any teenage boy, he was carrying on about him, what his family would think, about his life, his future.  He kept going on and on and on.  I wanted to slap him and ask, "What about me?"

I hid the pregnancy the best I could, he would take me out to places where we would not run into anyone from school, he kept me away from his parents and I requested to spend the last month in ISS (In School
Suspension) so I could hide the pregnancy better.  Mike was starting to act differently, more distant.  My Principal kept begging me to transfer to this other high school in our district that had a pregnancy program, the program also offered free daycare so the Mothers could continue their education.  (years later my First Daughter would attend this high school...as a regular student, not a expectant mother)

Transferring schools wasn't an option.  My adoption counselor would tell me that program was bad, they would encourage me to keep my baby where I would be destined to live off of government assistance and I would never find a decent man to marry me, etc, etc, etc.  The adoption counselor also told me if I transferred schools then I wouldn't be able to keep an eye on Mike, he would cheat on me and leave me behind.  The counselor planted that paranoia in me and Mike's strange behavior didn't help.

Graduation...because I missed so much school due to my pregnancy I was not able to graduate with my class, with the people I had known my whole life, the people who slowly started dropping out of my life because I wouldn't have an abortion.  I wanted to go, but Mike told me not to, he didn't want to run a chance of his family finding out about the baby.  So I stayed home, curled up in my bed...crying.

July 23, 1988 my water broke.  I mentioned in a post titled "July 23, 1988 - Dear Diary part II" about not getting a hold of Mike.  Then in "July 23, 1988 - Dear Diary part III" I mention how Mike was MIA.  Then in "Sunday, July 24, 1988" I mention how he never came to see me.  And in "Monday, July 25, 1988" I talked about how Mike broke up with me...the day I come home from the hospital, two days after I give birth to our daughter.  I found out a few weeks later that he was dating someone else while I was pregnant.

It was bad enough that I was dealing with post partum depression, then losing my daughter to adoption, and the one person I loved with all my heart breaks up with me.

I was accepted into the art program at our District School.  I needed to focus on completing my Senior year, a fresh start at a new school, new people, new adventures.  Unfortunately by the time school started I was lost...completely empty...I was numb...I was putting myself in dangerous situations, because I wanted this pain to finally end.

There was a boy I was dating, he was sweet enough and was actually trustworthy...but I was a bitch, a complete cold hearted bitch...I didn't care about anyone, or myself.  I broke up after a couple of months when he started to get "too close" to my heart.

In January 1989 Mike shows back up, out of the blue.  We ended up back together...as usual.  This time was different...I had changed.  He was wanting to marry me, I was doubtful, but I went along...because a piece of me still loved him.  A month later I found a roll of film in my room, I got it developed and I had the pictures in my purse.  The pictures were taking at a party I was at last fall with the guy I was dating.  I didn't think anything of it, I left the pictures in my purse.

Mike's parents were out of town one weekend.  We went to their house, just the two of us.  Mike was getting high and we were getting drunk.  For some reason he went through my purse and found the pictures.  He was angry, I kept telling him they were taken when we were broken up, he didn't care.  I suddenly got scared.  I ran up the stairs to the bathroom and as I was trying to lock the door he kicked it in.  The edge of the door hit me in the face, I was thrown into a wall, bounced off and went flying into the bathtub, as I was falling I grabbed the shower curtain...everything went black.

When I came to I found myself laying in a puddle of blood, Mike was sitting there screaming at me.  I got up and went to the mirror.  The blood was coming from where the edge of the door hit my teeth and sliced my mouth open, it looked like I had a hair lip that was never sewn together.  I wasn't sure if my teeth were still intact.  I looked over at Mike and told him I was going to the hospital.  He told me he wasn't taking me, I told him fine I would walk there.  I went downstairs, put on my coat, grabbed my purse and he showed up and told me he would drive me.  I wouldn't talk to him or look at him...how dare he do this to me, when was it going to end?

9 stitches later my lip was sewn back together, I had a minor cut on my brow and cheek from the door and thankfully my teeth were still intact, except one did receive some damage (that wouldn't become an issue until years later).  Mike took me home.  The next day, I dumped him.

I may be on the path of self-destruction but there was one thing I was sure of, I was not a punching bag!

Mike and I still run into each other every few years.  I'm not afraid or angry when I see him, a part of me does pity him a little...his heart is so full of anger, and guilt over what happened with us.  And yes, a small part of me does still love him.  I have forgiven him, but I will never forget. 

Anger Unleashed

Family members and friends know where I stand on Domestic Infant Adoptions.  When the subject comes up it is usually for some insight...insight on what adoption does to a First Mother 20 plus years after the loss.  Rarely does it ever turn into a heated argument.

A few weeks ago a close family member, who I will refer to as Megan, sent me a text.

Megan's fiance has a teenage son, the fiance and son had very little contact with one another for many years.  The son called the fiance out of the blue wanting to reconcile...because he got his 14 year old girlfriend pregnant.  Megan has decided to jump in the middle of this, wanting to fix the situation with the pregnant girlfriend, her heart is in the right place...but she is very black and white when it comes to teen pregnancy.  Megan has been trained to teach sex-ed to teenagers, so she believes she knows what the best solution is for this expectant teen mother, instead of giving the girl facts she pushes her own beliefs onto this girl, trying to pressure the girl and her Mother into doing what Megan believes is the right thing to do.

Megan asked me "What adoption agency did you go through?" The question was completely out of the blue, I've been doing a pretty good job with keeping adoption on the back burner, so the random question threw me off guard.  I replied "Why?"

"the little girl that got knocked up, her mom and I have been talking."  A bit of anger stirred, could it be said any tackier?  I mean really, is it too much to show a little compassion towards the girl?  As a teenager I was in her shoes and I know I would not have appreciated someone talking about me like this.  For some reason I suddenly became defensive...because Megan wasn't able to show a little bit of respect or because I was there once?  Who knows for sure, but I knew where this conversation was headed and I was not going to like it!

I was suddenly thrown back to my 18 year old self with everyone telling me what to do, threatening me into relinquishing my rights.  The lies I was told suddenly rushed forward, I was beginning to shake with the anger that was quickly consuming me, I could not allow someone to manipulate another expectant teenage mother.  No one deserves to go through the pain and heartache I have been living with for the last 23 years.  Quickly I texted back, anger was fueling my response, "If you are looking to recommend I would not do that.  Agencies lie and will do whatever it takes to get their hands on a baby so they can turn around and sell it to the highest paying, most desperate couples.  It's a legal form of baby selling...also, a mother and child should never be separated.  Is this why you are asking?"

My stomach begins to get upset at the thought of this 14 year old being forced into a decision she doesn't have the facts on.  A couple of weeks before I was told this girl wanted to keep her baby and the family is in full support of her decision, they will stand by her with whatever path she takes (lucky girl to have a family who will support her with her decision).  God, please let this girl's Mother have the strength to stand up for her daughter.

Dreading the next text message my phone vibrates.  "I want your advice, this girl is 14".  I know Megan too well, I know she only wants my advice if it is what she wants to hear, if it isn't what she wants to hear she will just get pissed off and ignore what is said.  My emotions start to get the better of me, "I can only give advice to someone who is standing in the same shoes I stood in.  Those on the outside have a false image that adoption is beautiful because they believe in the effing billion dollar a year propaganda the adoption industry shoves down their throats."

If she wasn't in another state I would go over there and smack her upside the head and tell her to stop being such a closed minded dumbass.

The phone vibrates again "I'm not trying to fire you up, I just want some advice, the mom of this girl wants her to have this baby and I don't know, but she is extremely young".  Yes, this girl is young, her body hasn't finished developing...she is only 14.  What Megan doesn't realize is that the decision belongs to the girl and her family is supporting her, she has no right to step in and demand the girl place the baby for adoption.  Hell, this isn't even Megan's family...it's the fiance's son's girlfriend and the fiance and the son don't really have anything to do with one another.

She wants my advice?  Really?  No, she wants me to jump in and take her side on this matter.  I won't do it, I can tell the girl my story, but I won't lie and tell her "adoption is a beautiful thing".

Still consumed with anger I responded, "Who is pushing the adoption?  I can talk to her and I can get her in touch with other Mothers who lost their children to closed and open adoption.  I can also get her in touch with some adult adoptees who can also share their experiences".

A part of me was hoping that it was not my family member pushing for adoption, I needed her to tell me, even though I knew the answer in my heart.

Megan responds "The Mom is not pushing right now, but in this case I think I think it would be best, she is just a baby"  Just as I thought, it is Megan forcing the issue.  Yes, the girl is young, but again, it is the 14 year olds decision, she will be the one to live with the consequences, she needs to have the facts from others who have been in her shoes.  

At this point I know I am being ignored, but I have to say it again.  "Let me talk to her about my truth of adoption and I can get her in touch with others who went through closed and open adoptions along with adult adoptees.  I can also get a couple of people who had abortions and I can get her in touch with a teen mom.  She needs the facts in order to make a decision...not people telling her what to do with half-ass lies told by politicians and the adoption industry."

I'm frustrated and angry.  I know this is a losing battle, she won't listen to reason.  For the last two weeks I have heard her carry on about how she is too young to be a grandmother.  I still can't grasp why she says this...this girl is not her daughter and it is not her son who got her pregnant.  Is she getting in the middle of this because she thinks it is about her?  But how can this be about her?  She's stubborn, there is no way I can get her to understand this is not her business that she needs to meddle in.

The last message I receive on this subject..."I know that's why I asked you".  Unfortunately I know she will still push forward with her own agenda.  Knowing full well Megan will keep anyone away from this girl who does not say "adoption is beautiful and it's the best thing ever" I respond for the last time on this subject "Then let me talk to her and give her contact info of others she can talk to.  You can not 'pass on' my experience, my pain, my hell"

Later that night I told my husband what had happened.  It made me feel better hearing him say "Let me tell the girl what the future husband goes through who had nothing to do with the adoption process.  It would be easier to handle the emotions concerning a step child instead of the emotions of a Mother who lost their child to adoption".  It made me feel better hearing him say that...he sure has come a long way.  

I also mentioned something to my 13 year old daughter Cindy about it.  She rolled her eyes and said "Megan is a dumbass and I can tell this girl what it is like growing up without an older sister and what it is like having an older sister lost to adoption who doesn't give a crap that she has a younger half sister who needs her".

I know this is a losing battle with Megan, she won't stop and listen.  At least the rest of my family and my friends know that the best information an expectant teen mother can get when it comes to her choices is by talking to different people who have been in her shoes and this girl is lucky to have a family who will stand by her with whatever decision she makes.

Oh Crystal Ball, What Does Her Future Hold?

First/Birth/Natural/Biological Mothers have been repeatedly told the same thing through the years by those in a higher, authoritarian position.  We are told how our unborn children deserve better, we are not good enough, we would live a life of ruin, etc, etc, etc.  They have been repeating the same words over and over for decades.  The Mothers who have been coerced, manipulated and threatened into losing their infant children to adoption can repeat these words in an almost trance-like state, we were like little robots repeating these words year after year, until some of us finally get our strength back and we can fight back.

The people who do the dirty work, you know the ones...they sit there with a warm and gentle look on their face explaining what a horrible life this Mother would have if she kept her baby and then they will go into another room grinning from ear to ear lying to the "Hopeful Adoptive Parents".  Telling them how they will soon be parents because a baby will be coming soon and the "Biological Mother" can't wait to get on with her life, everything will be perfect, etc, etc, etc.

These people who are in charge of manipulating expectant Mothers, who are they?

Are they some kind of psychic who can predict without a doubt the unborn child would live a life of poverty if they were raised with their own Natural Mother?  No, they are people who do what they can to get the unborn child and hand them over to couples who would in return hand over their life savings.  These people are like sleazy salesmen who sell stolen merchandise out of the trunks of cars.

Do these people gaze into a magical crystal ball asking to show the expectant Mother what a horrible life they will give their unborn child?  No, they see dollar signs.  It is a legal way for them to sell human beings, make a profit.  These people threaten and coerce naive unmarried expectant teen Mothers so they hand over their babies so these people can sell them to the highest bidder. 

Are they Oracles?  Does God speak to them telling them the expectant Mother will live a life of despair if they do not relinquish their child?  No, these people prey on expectant Mothers who have a less than perfect home life.  "oh, you're parents are divorced?  You will continue the cycle if you keep your baby."  "Oh, you were raised in an abusive home?  You will continue the cycle if you keep your baby."  "Oh, your father was non-existent in your life?  Is that what you want for this baby?" and so on and so on and so on.  These people think they have higher morals, higher values than the expectant Mother.  These people play off of the fears the expectant Mother has, they never tell her what her options really are.

So all those years ago my Counselor Brainwasher / Manipulator played off of my fears.  She threw statistics out there...saying statistically I will be this, statistically I will be that, statistically there is no hope for me.  Statistics.  Statistics.  Statistics.  How I hate that word.  Statistics.  I will be destined to live in a cardboard box under I-20 in Downtown Dallas if I kept my child.  My child would only receive clothes and toys from charities if I were to keep her.  My child would never have her own room, a yard to play in and other children would tease her because she is poor.  These are a few of the things that were "predicted" for my future if I kept my baby.

Who was this woman who could sit there and honestly predict my future?  Nope, she wasn't a psychic, she didn't have a crystal ball, she wasn't an oracle.  She was someone who became a Master Manipulator in her many years of working for the Agency.  This woman knew how to play on my fears, she knew how to make me feel guilty for even considering raising MY child, she was very good at her job.

Job.

Her job.

It takes a cold, heartless person with no conscience to sit there and manipulate a scared teenager like that so she can get her hands on the unborn child.

Have these people ever stopped once to put themselves in our shoes?  Have they ever taken a moment to think what it feels like to be separated from their child and continue living with a huge void in their heart? Probably not, because if they did they would not be able to do their jobs.

Another Random Memory

The week before my First Daughter was born my Mother went to Hawaii with her boyfriend for the week.  My Grandmother had to stay with us because my Mother was afraid we would throw a party or something.  Did she not realize that I was no condition to throw a party?  Anyway, Gran'ma was with us for the week.

There was a knock on the door, I waddled over to answer it.  At first I didn't recognize the person standing there, it was my Birthfather.  It was about 4 months since my sister and I last saw him and he had lost a lot of weight.  I let him him, my Gran'ma was on the couch (her leg was in a cast from breaking it the month before) and she was surprised.  Gran'ma was practically drooling!  Telling my Birthfather that he looked hot, then she started telling my sister and I about how good-looking she thought our Birthfather was before he married his second wife.  My sister and I were completely grossed out!!  Ewwww....Gran'ma had the hots for my Birthfather.

I knew why Birthfather was there, the weight loss, the new car and the urge to go shopping told me everything I need to know.  He and my Stepmom had separated for the hundredth time, it was the same story...they split up, BF loses the weight he gained from eating Stepmom's food, buys a new sports car, and he tries to make up for lost time by taking my sister and I shopping.  Well, we might as well enjoy it while we can because we both know they will be back together again soon.

BF noticed I had worn out my Keds.  I loved my Keds and now I could wear them without socks because I had ankles!!  We walked through mall to a shoe store and there my BF bought me 3 new pairs of Keds...white, black and navy.  My swollen feet were happy.  As we went shopping I had to endure my BF's bad pregnancy jokes...I'd be a tennis ball if I was wearing yellow and didn't shave my legs, I'd be a bowling ball if I was wearing black, etc.  I knew him well enough to know these bad jokes were keeping BF from breaking down in tears, I don't know if the tears would be from me being pregnant, his separation, or the fact that he had been a crappy Father to us since he married my stepmom 10 years ago.  While we were listening and half-hearted laughing at his bad jokes my sister and I were also grossing out over the girls my age checking out my BF...Ewwww!!!!

I was dying for a Banana Split, so after shopping he took my sister and I over to Braum's.  Thankfully, it was quiet in there and the jokes stopped and there were no girls in there checking out BF.  I inhaled my Banana Split while BF would tell my little sister stories about when we were little and he would bring us here.  Afterwards BF dropped us off at the little apartment we were now living in.  We were glad to be back home.  Unfortunately, we had to listen to Gran'ma carry on all evening about how hot she thought BF was and how it must be the Choctaw in him that made him so good looking.  My Sister and I made gagging faces for the rest of the night while our cousin would laugh telling Gran'ma she was a sick woman for thinking that way about her ex-son-in-law.

Random Memory

Never fails...every July I seem to remember some little detail that doesn't cross my mind the rest of the year. 

Friday, July 22, 1988.  My boss "Ava" said I was looking tired and she wanted me to start coming in at noon tomorrow.  I was tired.  Before I was pregnant I stood a whole whopping 5'1" and 93 lbs dripping wet.  Here I was looking like I was carrying twins because my body was so small the baby had nowhere to go but out and my legs were tired and swollen.  "Ava" handed me a huge bag of Kolaches her mother had sent home with her when she went to visit them.  These Kolaches weren't the little sausages wrapped in dough, oh no, these were were the real things...sweet, delicious, fruit topped pastries made by a Czech woman.  These things were pure heaven!!

I got home and changed clothes.  My boyfriend canceled our date (which seems to be happening more and more lately) and he promised we would go out the next night.  My younger sister left that morning for a mission trip in Biloxi, Mississippi.  My cousin who was a year younger than me and living with us was at work.  My Mom was off somewhere, who knows where.  We left my Adoptive Father the summer before and moved into these apartments.  The apartments were decent, I felt somewhat safe there.  There was a boy named "Johnny" who lived in our apartments, he was a little younger than me and he ran around with my sister, he loved to give her grief...maybe that was why I thought of him as my little brother :-)

"Johnny" came by, he didn't know what to do since he didn't have my sister around to bug.  I took my Kolaches and my nail polish caboodle (remember Caboodles?) and went outside with him.  He was watching me struggle trying to get the old nail polish off my toes while he was eating the Kolaches.  I had trouble reaching my toes with my huge belly in the way.  He giggled and said he would do it for me, he had older sisters so he knew how to paint toes.  I let him since I was too hot, tired, and uncomfortable to do it.

I don't remember much of our conversation that evening.  I do remember saying I couldn't wait to see my toes again.  I feel a little bad about saying that, I didn't want my time with my baby to be over with, I just wanted to see my toes again...my Estee Lauder Hibiscus Pink toes.

17 days until her 23rd birthday...