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Adoption Community Information
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| Serious story session |
Date Posted: 01-19-2005 at 01:55 AM |
| I have been wanting to write this down, but never found the words. But it is time I came clean with my family, so setting it out here to help my own faded memory along. If someone else gets something out of this, good. In Y2K, L became pregnant. Or I got her pregnant, if you want to be accusatory. I was 28, hardly too young to become a father. She was 25 and still trying to finish college. Age aside, neither of us felt ready to be parents. L still had her goal of finishing school and having a career, and was still battling with some personal issues. She never saw herself as the earth mother type. Being a father would have severely cramped my style. Where do you put a baby on a motorcycle? (No, not in the gas tank. That was not a joke). And so the decision was made to place our baby in an adoptive home. L contacted M and J, who were already parenting her birth daughter, to ask if they would be interested in adopting their daughter's half-sibling. They were hesitant at first, as they had not planned on further expanding their family, but they got back to us a few weeks later to confirm that they would. Meanwhile, we had seen the baby on the ultrasound and discovered he was a boy, although you could have fooled me. I could not make out anything, but the technician was pointing things out as if they were clear as day. From there, I started to have second thoughts. It felt wrong to give away my son when I knew that I was capable of being his father, even if it would require a change in lifestyle. That is where my life turned in the opposite direction. I regressed from casual/social drug use to full blown addiction. By the time Matthew was born, three days early on December 2nd, 2000, I was a disaster area. I was there when my son was born. L did not want to hold him, so I was the first. I had the shakes, was terrified that I would drop him. I remember thinking how red and wrinkled he was; how tiny his hands were, yet perfectly formed with little nails and everything. He did not cry. Just lay there as I held him and stared into his little face. I had an overwhelming sense of despair as I understood I had screwed this up too badly to go back now. I did not realize I was crying until I saw my tears on his cheek. I could not get out of there fast enough. I shoved him into his adoptive mother's arms and left the hospital. |
| Power struggle |
Date Posted: 01-19-2005 at 09:26 PM |
| Why am I such a sucker? Every time I put myself on the line I get burned. Is the answer to strive for mediocrity to avoid recognition? |
| No secrets |
Date Posted: 01-31-2005 at 08:26 PM |
| I have long felt guilty that I have not told my family about Matthew. I realize that I am doing him a disservice by keeping his existence from them. I never want him to think that he is my dirty secret, and maybe I do not need to tell the world about him, but I do need to tell my family, because they are his family also. So today, January 31, 2005, I sent my parents what I hope is a carefully worded letter. I have spent years agonizing over the contents of that letter. It has been written, rewritten, torn up and thrown away, written again, over and over. It will never be perfect. It will never erase four years of silence. But I hope they understand, and I hope they will forgive me. |
| Heather, My Mirror |
Date Posted: 02-01-2005 at 09:26 PM |
| Light shines in the mirror The mirror never lies Every aspect of me Is reflected in her eyes I lie to myself I lie to the mirror But the mirror knows She reflects me clearer In the darkest hour No light to reflect A life laid bare No mirror to protect Heather is gone My mirror is broken Fear of the truth Left unspoken B.J.G, February 1, 2005 |
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