The Other Choice

It was late April and I was in Portland and feeling incredibly sick. Before that I had been in Seattle, before that, San Francisco, and before that L.A. A friend of mine back in Colorado had bought me a Greyhound ticket home so I could take him a bass guitar he left in Oregon. It was cheaper to buy me a ticket and have me carry it back than it was to ship it. I had a day to kill before my bus left. So I called one of those "crisis pregnancy" places and went to find out for sure. I knew what they were from reading about them and was uncomfortable with the thought that they would evangelize me and try to influence my decisions, but I really needed to know if what I dreaded was true. So I stole a ride on the light rail from downtown and went in. For the first time in my 25 years, I took a pregnancy test. And there were two little pink lines. The woman who helped me was very kind, and I just told her I was keeping it right away, to avoid seeing any graphic videos, getting lectured. I didn't know what I was going to do yet. I cried. She hugged me. Outside again I called my boyfriend. He was concerned, I was alone and crying. Abortion was the unspoken consensus. That night I slept in my sleeping bag in a bush by the interstate, and the next day I laid in it and cried until it was time to go get on the bus. I thought across four states, sick all the way with worry and what was now confirmed to be morning sickness. I was incredibly thankful the bus ticket coincided with this news. All of a sudden the reckless abandon with which I hopped on freight trains, hitched rides and slept in parks and abandoned buildings vanished. There was something else to worry about besides me now. Home again, told my family. We all agreed we couldn't raise a baby. My mom was on the brink of foreclosure and could barely pay her own bills, and with two jobs, when would she have time to help with a baby? My brother has his own life. My boyfriend and I both haven't had real jobs for years and are basically unemployable. Debt, no references, we met on the road as traveling musicians. We loved our lives and were in no way prepared to all of a sudden sit still and grow up, as hard as that was to admit to others and ourselves. My mom said she'd support any decision I made, but she said she couldn't raise my baby for me. He expected me to have an abortion, which I understood. I have always been very liberal and vocally pro-choice. But when I canceled my appointment and called him and told him I wanted to adopt out the baby instead, he said I was more important to him than anything. I said he could go ahead and travel without me and we'd meet back up after I had the baby, but he said he could stand the itchy feet and that he would head to Colorado and take care of me. I was so thankful. I just figured I wanted to know what it was like to be pregnant, to be a woman, figured I didn't really have a good enough reason to have an abortion. I could put my life on hold to have this baby, and help the baby and a family at the same time. So I got on Medicaid and Foodstamps and started calling adoption agencies. With the help of my mom letting us move into her living room, the government giving me the insurance I hadn't had for years, and the adoptive family helping with my bills I had all the support I needed to have a healthy pregnancy, a good diet, regular doctor visits and a safe place to stay. I picked an agency and interviewed families over the phone. I asked a lot of questions. Will you help the child pay for college? What do you do for a living? Do you have dogs? What do you like to eat? Before the end of my first trimester I chose a family. The family I chose answered all my questions perfectly. They are a lot different than I am, more conservative and religious, but I still felt a warm connection with them, and besides, people like me don't make the best parents, so why would I pick someone like me? Molly and I started talking regularly and could talk easily, and I felt that she was a warm person who not only cared about the baby but myself as well. And as the baby grew, it changed me forever. The experience of feeling this tiny thing in me grow and wiggle, to see the ultrasounds, hear the tiny heart sounding a lot like the trains I love so much. A lot of it was hard. People couldn't be happy for me after they found out about my adoption plan. I eventually started lying and pretending I was keeping the baby, or cutting conversations short. People acted like I was selfish, or not maternal, or assumed the worst about me and the father. No one congratulated me. Even my own mom, as much as she loves me and meant well, said, "If you were keeping it things would be different, I'd spoil you." One of the many losses I felt was not being special, like making a baby doesn't count unless you're keeping it. Or people would say things like, "You won't e able to do it!" But I was always sure I was doing the right thing, and sure I could go through with it even as I grew to understand how hard it would be. I was afraid, I felt guilt, I felt like a failure, I felt stupid for getting pregnant, I felt angry, I felt sad, even while I was excited to be pregnant, excited to meet the little person in my belly, excited to experience childbirth. When the time came I took natural childbirth classes and planned an unmedicated birth. I knew all I had was my pregnancy and birth with the baby and so it was really important to me to try to have the kind of birth I wanted. The adoptive parents were really supportive and helped pay for the classes. Some people said I should have an epidural because it would help me let the baby go, but I really believed a natural birth would be better for me and baby. I didn't want to be drugged up, I wanted to deal with my emotions in real time. I wanted to feel everything, both physical and mental. I did everything I could to set myself up for success. My mom and my boyfriend both learned how to support me, especially my boyfriend who was my birth coach, and my birth class teacher referred me to a doula who would help us for free. When I started to get close, Molly called me all the time. We were both going crazy with excitement, especially her. I really felt for her, thinking of how anxious she must be, maybe worrying I wouldn't go through with it. I knew what my body was up to, but she had to call to find out. At eleven or so one night I started having contractions. I let my boyfriend sleep as much as I could before I woke him up to start holding me and timing contractions. He held me and we rocked together and I clung to him, emotionally and physically. A bit after midnight we called Molly and told her I was in labor. Just after dawn we called her and told her we were on our way to the hospital, which was an hour away. Then we called the doula, who met us at the hospital. All day I sat on a birthing ball, walked around, got in the tub, leaned on my boyfriend. Molly and her husband got there just in time. On December 9, 2010, just before five p.m. my beautiful daughter Elena was born. I achieved my goal of a natural birth and it was amazing. Elena was pink and heathy and very alert. They put her on my chest and I got to cut the cord myself, a symbolic act, and I let the parents name her. She looked right at my boyfriend. Then they took her to clean her and she got passed all around the room, to her adoptive parents, to my mom, my brother, the doula, a friend of mine who came to visit. There was so much love in the room and we were all so happy she was there. I was so relieved and tired, overjoyed, numb. It was great her parents got to watch her be born. Everyone agreed she was the cutest baby, and she looked like me. In the hospital she stayed with the parents, who were given a room too, which is what I wanted. I wanted her to bond with them. My boyfriend held me tight and told me I was so strong and beautiful, which meant so much to me. I couldn't sleep, so they gave me a sleeping pill. At five I woke up and cried. In the hospital I mostly felt paralyzed, I couldn't really feel much except joy that I had done it, done what I wanted to do, how I wanted to. I got to see Elena a lot and hold her and say goodbye and tell her I love her. Molly and her husband were great and let me see her as much as I wanted. But I felt I had to maintain a distance. I knew I couldn't change my mind. I always knew it would be more selfish to keep her. We would have to struggle every day just to make her life acceptable, and her parents have all the resources already in place to make her life wonderful. She'll have many more options in life now. I got to leave the hospital after one day. I pushed for it, I think I wanted to get away from my baby on some levels, get it over with. I didn't think seeing her more would make me feel better. The last time I saw her I put my hand on her and said, "I love you so much. Don't you ever doubt that." That night I got home and laid down and turned off the light, and all of a sudden it hit me like a baseball bat to the skull, and it felt like the world turned black around me and I just started sobbing. I thought, "What have I done?!?!?!" and freaked out. She was so perfect and little and cute, and the world was huge and dark and empty. I wanted her. So. Badly. I wanted to run to her and snatch her up and never let go. My whole body cried out for her. My boyfriend just held me close. It has been three weeks now, and I have ups and downs. The first day back from the hospital I cried so much I thought my eyes would swell shut. I've had a couple days without tears now, though not in row, and not today. I miss her. I hate watching my mom and my boyfriend cry too. My mom never though her first grand-baby would be given away. But no matter what pain we feel, we are just all so happy she's here. I have no regrets. It hurts, and some days I play "What if...?" but this was my plan and I'm happy I did what I set out to do. I never thought I wanted to be a mother until now. Maybe I'll have another child someday. But not unless I'm ready. Maybe a poor childhood and unmarried parents isn't the worst thing in the world, but I think parents who just plain aren't ready can be disastrous. This has changed my life. I am so proud of me, of my family, my love my boyfriend. I am thankful I had the support I needed to do this, from my mom, the government, and the adoptive family. I am glad I didn't get an abortion. I am still pro-choice, but I'm glad it was truly a choice, and my choice, that no one made me make. I will never tell another woman what to do, and I think no one can really understand another woman's choices or heart when it comes to things like this. I don't care ultimately what other people think of me or this situation. I know I did the right thing for me. And Elena. No matter how hard this is, just knowing she's here and has good parents makes it all worth it. I love her. I love this life and thought she might too. I'm glad I made the other choice.