My Life After Adoption

I have a special story to tell. You see, I'm not only an adoptee, I'm also a birthmother. I will share both stories here. These will not be easy to tell, there are a lot of emotions that run through my heart, mind, body, and soul as I remember everything that has happened in my life.

For beginners, I am adopted. I was three days old when my mom and dad brought me home. I don't remember it, but they sure do.

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They were put on a waiting list for quite some time. They prayed for a child every day. They waited for the phone to ring. Every time it did ring, their hearts jumped to their throats, wondering if it would be "the" call.

One day that phone call came. They were asked if they wanted me for their daughter. They chose me.

I have learned of a scary fact in my life. I found out that another family in our town, that my parents knew, was also on the same list. They were ahead of my parents. The reason the adoption of me didn't go through for them was because of a health problem in my possible "dad." The reason I bring this up is because it turns out he was a child molester. There have been days in my life where I wonder what it would have been like if fate didn't turn out as it did.

Here is what I know of my birth family: My birthmother was 18 years old when I was born. She and my birth-grandmother were around five foot tall. My birth-grandfather stood over six foot tall. My birthfather, I know nothing of. My birthmother liked pool and reading. She was outgoing and loud. Blonde hair and blue eyes. At least I know where I got my 4'10", blonde hair, blue eyes, cheerleading, and (not so wonderful) pool skills from.

Stephen Ray and Carolyn Sue are my mom and dad. They are the only parents I have ever known, and ever will. I love them very much. They have supported me through so much. Which is where the rest of my story begins to unfold.

As I stated before, I am also a birthmother.

The news came in June of 1997. I was in Basic Training for the Army Reserve. I couldn't believe it. How do you tell the father to be? The grandmother? The grandfather? I had no idea how to tell people I was going to have a baby from Fort Jackson, S.C. It isn't exactly the ideal phone conversation.

I was shipped home from Basic. I was still clueless on how to handle the situation. Few words passed between my mother and I. It was one of those moments were she just knew.

I have never known to be one to make decisions quickly. Actually, I'm pretty well known as a well versed procrastinator. Such was the case in even looking at adoption as an option. It was January before I brought the fact that I was thinking about adoption to my parents. We contacted a local agency. I was sent home with a three-ring binder full of families looking for babies to add to their family.

As I looked through the names, I felt my parents' pain when they were in the same situation. I felt my birthmother's pain as I realized I was too young to be making this choice.

I came across a letter written from the view point of a three year old. She was asking for a brother or sister. The thing that caught my eye, though, was she talked about being adopted. I decided this was the family I wanted to meet.

I met with Jim, Cathy, and Caley less than a month before I had the baby. They seemed like wonderful people. They had many heart breaks. They had been set-up with many potential birthmothers who had backed out last minute. The fear of me doing the same thing filled the air.

Caley was the one that stole my heart, though. A three year old looked at me with innocent eyes and said, "I'm adopted. I have a birth mommy who gave me to my mommy and daddy. She is very special."

My heart broke at that moment. She reminded me a lot of me. I knew the same thing about myself for as long as I could remember.

We parted ways and agreed to give me time to think about it. We decided to meet about a week later.

In the meantime, one of my best friends gave me a Winnie-the-Pooh outfit. I love Pooh! I had a good idea.

The next time I met with Jim, Cathy, and Caley, I took the outfit with me. We laughed, we cried, we shared fears and hopes. As we were getting ready to part our ways, for what would be our final time (although we weren't aware of that yet), I pulled out the outfit. I handed the outfit to Cathy and said, "I give you this outfit as my promise to you that I will not change my mind, as long as I get a picture of her in it when she's big enough to wear it." She cried, I cried, we all cried some more. We all hugged and went home.

March 5, 1998, my daughter was born. I fell in love with her the moment her head crowned. I didn't even have to see her face.

I held her, I fed her, I changed her diapers. My aunts, uncles, cousins, grandmother, and dearest friends came to the hospital to see us. We all cried and smiled. They are memories we will always hold dear.

A good family friend baptized my daughter, off the records, as Christine Amanda. She will always be known, in my family alone, as Chrissy.

36 hours passed in what seemed more like 36 seconds. A case worker from the adoption agency, as well as a case worker from the hospital, came to my room.

I cannot explain to you the pain that coursed through my heart, mind, body, and soul in the next few moments. My bags were packed. We were ready to check out. And the hardest thing I have done yet in my life was beginning.

I held my daughter in my arms. I cried my saddest tears. I signed a paper to let her go to a family she holds dear. My parents cried as much as I. We held each other close. I swear if you'd been listening, you'd have heard my heart break. I know I did.

I rolled her down to the nursery. I said my last good-byes. I kissed her head, and wiped my tears. It was time to leave.

I sit here now crying. It is hard to remember without the tears and pain resurfacing. I knew in that moment that I may never see her again.

As her third birthday approaches, I remember it all again. I am waiting for pictures. I look forward to them with both happiness and sadness. I have an open adoption which means she will always have the opportunity to find me. I do not want to be her mother, she has one who loves her very much. I just want to be a part of her life.

To All Parents of Adopted Children: Please, be honest with your children. They have a right to know about us. We love those children just as much as you do. We gave them a chance at a life we could not give.

To All Birthparents: I know how hard it is. I have cried those same tears. You are wonderful people. I know how much love it took to do what you did.

To All Adoptees: Love your parents, but never forget us. What we did was not because we didn't want you. We did it because we knew you deserved better than what we could give.

Thank you.