At 16 years of age I was raped 3 times over the course of a summer, from which I became pregnant. I chose in accordance with my beliefs at that time to carry my pregnancy to term and give the baby up for adoption.
As my pregnancy progressed I spoke out loud to my unborn child, and told him that I would always love him. I told him I was preparing him for a mom and dad who were excitedly waiting for him, and he was a gift for them. I read to him from Proverbs and Psalms, and sang to him. I did these things partly in an effort to keep myself going straight as I testified in court about being raped, then testified in court again to have the rapist's paternal rights removed so I could give my son up for adoption.
My son was born on Mother's Day in May. I held him briefly as they severed his umbilical cord. He looked at me from where he sat on my belly and I swear he smiled. Then he was gone with his adoptive parents and I was alone in my room. I was given no time to reconcile his physical person with the decision I had so bravely made. No time to properly greet him and bid him farewell. Maybe it would not have mattered, but I've always wised I could have.
At home I was treated like I had been at fault for the situation, that my problems were the rewards for bad behavior during and after pregnancy. I must have paid for all the bad behavior in my whole life with that pregnancy and adoption, and the emotions of loss which I have endured ever since.
I go for periods without missing him. Then I see a new baby, or I hear one crying and it sets off my pain all over again. Sometimes my memories percolate up through the mysterious layers in my mind and I relive my loss again. Mother's day is a private and painful day for me; I leave society on that day.
I know that children in reality belong to themselves and to the world. I know what I did was the right thing to do. I donít want him back, just want to stop loosing him over and over and overÖ. I want to stop hurting. I want my heart to stop remembering in pain.