I never knew anyone who had an abortion, so I didn't know what to expect.
When I checked in at the clinic, the receptionist said not to feel uncomfortable because they had 50 people scheduled that day for abortions. In the waiting room, we all stared at each other. Some of the women were older; others younger, even as young as 12. Most had a girlfriend with them. One couple was married. I could tell we were wondering about each other's stories and how we all ended up there. I know every one of us would have rather been somewhere else. I felt sick.
I waited for more than an hour before I was called in for a consultation. I didn't know it was a multistep process. The nurse had a chart and a model and explained in detail the medical procedure. I had no idea they would actually explain that to us. It must be a state law or something. Of course, it does make you seriously think about what you are doing.
I waited again and eventually was called into an office where the nurse asked if anyone was forcing me to do this. She asked if it was what I wanted to do and if it was my decision alone to end this pregnancy. Then I had to sign a paper stating all that and fill out a consent and medical history form. Again I waited. Then I had a physical exam and waited some more. During the exam they showed me all the equipment they would use during the procedure. They showed me the vacuum tube and the canister that collects the fetus. They also told me what happens to the fetus afterwards. The procedure only takes a few seconds.
But I had been at the clinic five hours now. During the wait everyone is silent. No one wants to get an abortion. It's something you know deep down is wrong. But you do it anyway.
Then it was my turn. They put me in the recovery room for a moment and I saw the young woman who had been ahead of me. She was in a lot of pain. I asked her if it hurt. She said her stomach was cramping a lot. I kept telling myself it would only be a few minutes and everything would be over.
When I'd first learned I was pregnant, I cried immediately. Then I sat in my car and sobbed. It was the most awful feeling in the whole world to be alone at a time like that. I had no idea what to think, what I would do, how I was going to tell my family, my friends, my boyfriend. I couldn't possibly be a mother. I was 18, in college, and I had a great part-time job in the field I was majoring in. I had a life.
When I had told my sister I was going for an abortion, she screamed and called me a "baby killer." She said she and my parents would help and we could all make it work. But my parents helping? No thanks. We couldn't get along as it was.
My boyfriend and I were by no means in love, but Frank [except for the author's, most names in this story have been changed] did offer to marry me and keep the baby. I couldn't do that. We were just two kids having fun -- at least I thought so. He was 22 and had a great job, and I know many single moms would have jumped at his offer. But I knew it wasn't right to be married for the wrong reason and, down the line, it could be a very bad thing. I thought abortion was the easiest way out. It would be over soon and my problems would go away.
But the nurse told me they noticed on my medical history form I had a heart condition, and they wouldn't do the procedure unless I had been on antibiotics for three days before the abortion. I went ballistic. I'd had to psyche myself up to come in the first place; I couldn't come back. Did she know what I had to go through for the past five hours while I waited my turn? Did she know that it meant the morning sickness would persist for another week, that I had taken time off without pay to be here, and that I would somehow have to explain to our family physician that I needed antibiotics for an abortion?
When I called my mom and told her the abortion never happened, she said it was a sign from God . . . and I, too, believe in God and in signs like that.
One day I broke down crying in the arms of a Holy Cross priest at Notre Dame. He said it was important to bring this little person into the world; in the end, he said, everything would be okay. He referred me to the Women's Care Center, where underprivileged women go for help. They would help me decide if I wanted to put the baby up for adoption, could connect me with a family that fosters pregnant women until the birth, and could provide counseling, clothes, formula and other baby needs. Although I didn't feel their services were precisely right for me, I did take the advice of a woman there who told me to that the first thing I should do was visit the doctor. But that meant health insurance, which I didn't have because I only worked part time. That forced me to the Medicaid/Medicare office. I also called Catholic Social Services, but the first question they asked was if the baby would be white. That made me mad, so I didn't talk to them.
I thought I might have more luck at a bookstore, but I didn't find a book for me -- not a single book for a single woman looking for answers.
Then I remembered seeing ads in the newspaper: "Young couple in Manhattan looking to adopt your beautiful baby. Call collect." It was another avenue to try, so I did. But when a woman answered the phone, I didn't know what to say. I think we both didn't know what to say. She was very nice and sincere. She told me about herself and her family and asked me questions, too. It was more like an interview than a conversation. Then she said I needed to contact their attorney.
I called a few more ads to see what others had to say. I didn't think what I was doing was cruel at the time, but later found out it probably was. But I was so confused and so alone, I didn't know what to do. Some of these couples had been trying for a decade to adopt; a lot had the same attorney. So I called his office. He was quite rude and asked if I was white, if the father was white, if I'd had an AIDS test; he said he'd require one before proceeding. When I tried asking a few more questions, he said he wouldn't answer any until I sent him a full biography on the father and myself, a medical release and AIDS test results, and my photo.
The next day I told him I was no longer interested in doing this with him. That night one of the women called. Apparently the attorney had told her I didn't want to place my baby with her and her husband. She begged me over the phone to give her a chance. She told me she felt strongly about me and believed this was meant to be, that she was supposed to adopt my baby. The whole thing devastated me. I really hurt this lady, but before I could tell her how sorry I was, she told me how cruel I had been.
Then one day a co-worker said her sister-in-law wanted to adopt a baby. I had nothing else to go on at this point, so I agreed to meet Linda, an older woman who had an adopted daughter from Sri Lanka. Linda and her live-in boyfriend renovated houses for a living and were then working on a big place that would take about five years. She said she had plenty of room and would love for me to move in. She invited me because she liked to help people, she said, not solely because she wanted to adopt the baby. I believed her and planned to do just that. At least I would be around people.
Living with the couple was interesting and I learned a lot from them. They had a philosophy of life I really admired. Eventually I went to an attorney about Linda adopting my baby. I found Mr. Oates in the yellow pages under "adoption" and told him I wanted to place my baby with Linda. He was concerned that she wasn't married and that she lived in a neighboring state where he wasn't licensed, meaning she would need her own lawyer. When I explained it to Linda, she suggested I just "give" her the baby. That sounded insane but I told her I'd think about it.
Then I agreed to accompany my parents on a vacation to their time-share condominium in Florida and try to sort it all out. I was in my seventh month and it was a long, hot ride to Florida, but I was excited to spend time with my family. My sister even brought a girlfriend, and all the way down they asked me questions about the baby and how it felt to be pregnant. We would even watch my stomach move from time to time.
Everywhere I went I saw babies and it truly made me want to keep mine. So while we were vacationing, I talked to my mom and dad about keeping the baby and living with them for the first couple of years until I got a degree and got on my feet. They weren't thrilled, but they agreed to help. I told Linda of my decision and moved back home just before Thanksgiving.
At Thanksgiving I was helping my mom bake pumpkin pies. She asked me how long the baby and I would live with them until we found a place of our own. She wanted to know how I planned on going to school and plus working to pay for formula and diapers. All I knew at that point was that I wanted to keep the baby and that was it. I thought she was being cruel; maybe she gave me a reality check. When I talked to my best friend about the conversation, we agreed that depending on my parents wasn't a good idea. And I wasn't prepared to raise a child. Adoption it was.
So I went back to see the lawyer, Mr. Oates, and asked if he knew any couples interested in adopting my baby. He immediately handed me several profiles of couples wanting to adopt. He told me to read them and let him know who I liked best. The profiles told about their childhood, their schooling, what they do now — everything but their names and addresses.
Before I could decide, a woman from work, Karen, one of the most compassionate people I know, told me about Jack and Diane, a couple in Indianapolis who wanted to adopt my baby. Karen went on about the couple and I knew they'd be perfect. So I called Mr. Oates and told him I wanted Jack and Diane to adopt my baby and gave him the name and number of their attorney in Indianapolis. He agreed to handle the case. I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
During my next meeting with Mr. Oates he said he hadn't heard from Jack and Diane's attorney in weeks and, when he finally contacted him, the attorney said Jack and Diane had decided to back out of the adoption because they didn't have the money. I was devastated. The baby was due in six weeks and I thought everything was worked out. Mr. Oates assured me that lots of couples wanted to adopt, that many would have the money to do so, and most would pay my expenses as well. So he set me up in an apartment and said he would give me food and gas money, pay my bills and all.
A few days later Karen asked me why I had decided not to let Jack and Diane adopt my baby. She said they still wanted my baby. I was shocked, and Karen was shocked when I told her that I hadn't backed out. She said Jack and Diane's attorney had told them that Mr. Oates had told him I wanted to keep my baby. I couldn't believe my ears. Somebody's attorney was pulling a fast one, and I had no doubt it was Mr. Oates.
So Karen immediately called Jack and Diane and we all talked — for the first time. They suggested another attorney they knew in a nearby city. It was all I had to go on, so I called him. The first thing he did was get me out of that apartment and back home. He thought it'd be the best, most stable place for me. He was right. After all I'd been through, I thought I'd go crazy.
He also suspected Mr. Oates cared more about making money than placing my baby with the couple I chose. He was right. Soon after I left the apartment Mr. Oates sent me a bill for $3,000 for his services. My new attorney wrote him to say we knew he had lied to Jack and Diane. We never heard from him again.
By now it was time to stop working and rest until the baby came. It was also time to meet the couple I had chosen to adopt my baby.
When I met Jack and Diane, I knew it was well worth all the hassle and agony to get there. They were everything I'd hoped they would be. I told them about my childhood and what I knew about my boyfriend, the baby's father, although we weren't seeing each other anymore. But I did show them his picture. We also talked about how we wanted this adoption to work. I told them I didn't want any contact in the future unless my baby someday wanted to find me. I didn't think I could move on emotionally if I had an open adoption.
We agreed that if either of us I wanted pictures, we could work that out through the attorneys. They told me they would raise him to know he was adopted, and the attorney explained what would happen when the baby was born. When I left, Jack kissed me goodbye, and my heart melted. I knew it was right and my parents did too.
Not long after that I called my boyfriend to tell him I had never had the abortion and that I was giving up the baby for adoption. I told Frank he'd have to sign papers giving up his rights as the father. He agreed, and I made the conversation short by saying my attorney would contact him. Then we hung up.
Just before the baby was born Frank called and asked how I was doing. I told him the baby wasn't here yet; he asked what I looked like and whether I was going out or mostly staying home. He was, I realized, trying to figure out if his parents might see me out somewhere. I was pretty upset by that, but he said he just couldn't tell them. It made me realize how all this probably wouldn't affect him at all. After everything I had been through during those past nine months, where would he end up? Right where he started. He won't have stretch marks or any emotional ties to this baby. All Frank cared about was that his parents not find out. I couldn't stand to talk to him anymore and hung up the phone.
A few days later, on a Monday morning, I got up at 5:30 a.m. to go to work, hopped in the shower and felt pain like I never had before. I was in labor. But it was a good seven hours before anything really started to happen. The doctor broke my water and gave me an epidural. My dad and sister went to get lunch and, when they came back, I was pushing and trying to focus and didn't want them in the room. It was just me and my mom -- the person I wanted there the least.
When my son was born, the nurses didn't know what to do with the baby because of the adoption. I told them the baby would stay with me while still in the hospital. I wanted to spend as much time with him as I could. He was beautiful.
We were able to spend the next 48 hours together, and I got to feed my son and change him and hold him while he slept. We took lots of pictures and my dad even videotaped me holding him — though, to this day, I haven't been able to look at the tape.
Those two days flew by so fast, then we all had to sign the final adoption papers at the courthouse. We went back to the hospital and both attorneys stood by me when I wheeled him in his crib to a private room where the exchange would take place. I'd received several presents and thought he should take them with him, so I gave them to Jack and Diane. Then I took my baby out of his crib and held him for a moment. Then I handed him to Diane and said, "From mommy to mommy." We were both crying and smiling at the same time. I was so happy for them.
My dad took a few pictures of everyone, then I said I had to leave. I needed to be by myself. What I had done was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my whole life -- to be selfless and give up my child to a better life. And I did love him with all my heart. I went back to the hospital room alone. Later my dad told me that, when I left, the baby started crying -- like he knew I was leaving. I just hoped he would understand someday and not hate me.