An Adoptee/Birth Mother’s Story
I was adopted in September of 1984. I was born to teenagers. My birthmother came from a dysfunctional family that didn’t support her pregnancy. She ran away from home and got help through an religiously affiliated agency. I was born in of August, 1984. I always had a deep passion to find my birth family, and even wrote letters to people in Colorado with the same last names, trying to find them as a young child only of 8 or 9 years of age. I got a couple of letters written to me of people that didn’t know my parents but hoped the best for me in my searches. I wasn’t mistreated or abused as a child. But had a hard time coping with being “different” from my family. I am American Indian, French Canadian, and Hispanic. My adoptive family is Caucasian. I had a rough teenage life of my own choices, and in turn, became pregnant at the young age of 14 myself. I was very selfish and stubborn in deciding that I would be a better parent than my biological parents, regardless of my ignorance of anything of parenthood. I was very small and in no means ready to carry a child. I was very high-risk and had a hard time. There was no father involved. I continued to attend school as much as possible, retaining water like crazy from being on my feet for so many hours. I was due in June but in early May had complications worsen and gave birth on May 11, 1999 to a 6 1/2 weeks premature baby boy. I named him Caleb. He was 4 lbs. 2 oz. 181/2 inches long. He was born with a small hole on his left side underneath his arm. No complications were found. He was in the hospital for a month because his lungs were underdeveloped, having to have a couple of blood transfusions due to low white blood cell counts. Caleb came home to me and my adoptive family. I continued with school, and tried to find work. With the help of a family friend who didn’t charge me a thing for child care, only with the agreement that I continue with school full-time and keep my grades above a “B” average. None the less, I struggled. Still wanting to be a “teenager” and fighting the responsibility to be a full-time single mother. To make a long story short, I messed up and ended up in the juvenile system. My adoptive family wanted to try to keep custody of Caleb, but my mother has Type I Diabetes and was unsure of whether or not she was fit to tend to an infant full-time. Caleb was placed in foster care with a family in a small town 45 miles east of where I live. When I was back home I was able to have visits often with him, sometimes for a week or two at a time. I ended up failing again and in the end, I ended up with a choice of fighting the state to keep custody. With a juvenile record and no money, I had no choice but to sign my parental rights over to the state, and Caleb was placed for adoption. I did however get a choice of where he was placed.
Fortunately, Caleb’s foster parents had relatives that had become close with him in his time with the family and were unable to have any more children themselves. They also adopted 2 other little boys that Caleb had been in foster care with. I believe and pray that this helped him transition a little easier. I last saw Caleb on May 5, 2002. He was about to be 3 years old. I love him with every piece of my heart. And I hope someday I will be able to have the opportunity to apologize for my selfishness that caused him so much heartache and confusion for so long, and not realizing the life he was missing out on in having a “family” that was ready to have him in their lives and give him everything I couldn’t. I have no blame on anyone but myself for my actions. I have, however, had the greatest opportunity and blessing in finding my birth family and have the greatest relationship with them that I could have ever hoped for. I hope that one day I will be able to introduce Caleb to him and connect all the pieces of the puzzle of his life and heritage. – Donna L.