Friday, July 8, 2011
Laying awake in bed, alone, I cried for the situation I had gotten myself into. I should know better, Pete's sake. I am 38 years old. Guilt, remorse and sorrow blended together as the tears rolled, pooling on my pillow case. I tried to be quiet so I wouldn't awaken and scare my 3 year old daughter. She'd been through enough and now she would go through this with me. She'd just lost her father less than a year ago. How could I be so selfish?
I met Alex's father while I was away for a long weekend in Key West to see my friend get married. I had mixed emotions about going in the first place. I didn't want to go to a destination wedding alone and I wasn't sure that seeing someone get married so early on in my widowhood would prove to be a great idea. I met him while out on the town with friends. He followed me around like a lost puppy all weekend. We stayed in touch and I was smitten by his attention. The calls, emails, text messages dulled the pain in my heart and satisfied the longing and the loneliness I felt constantly.
It happened, I went back to see him in January, for my birthday. It wasn't like I'd imagined. I felt foolish for going. I felt used and taken advantage of. He persisted after my return home, implanting the idea that he and I were meant to be together. In February, I let him know I was expecting. His response was more favorable that I thought. I moved to Key West and stayed with him, thinking we'd be raising our child and my daughter together. I thought that even though this was not what God would have planned for me, somehow it would all work out.
By April, I'd be changing the locks on my apartment. His alcoholism prevented him from being a safe person to be around and convinced me that counting on him for love, support and the role of a father would not be a wise plan.
I won't lie, I thought about abortion, you know I did. Any birthmother who tells you that it never crossed their mind isn't being honest. It seemed too easy to spend a couple hundred dollars to make this all go away. But it wouldn't go away, I'd know. God would know. I couldn't live with that. I couldn't raise her and be any kind of a decent mother or human being knowing I had a toddler who needed me desperately to be her mom, and that fact that I was only in the beginning of the grieving process for my husband. Her father would be no presence in her life, I didn't want to subject a little girl to that. I'd have two girls without fathers, the pain of that seemed almost to be almost depravity to allow.
I had researched some websites for adoption but I hadn't made any concrete plans. The thought of giving up my baby, would it be like giving up my little girl? I thought my heart would tear out of place just thinking about it.
"Do you grieve like a woman who can't have a child?"
The thought that came to me shocked me out of my self pity. I thought about what it must be like for a woman to be in her bed, same as me that night. Crying before God, desperately praying for Him to give her a baby. I thought of the agony of her peering into strollers and congratulating one more mom, knowing that her test said 'negative', again, just the day before.
I knew what I was called to do.
I'd like to share my story with you. Mostly because, I am also a good writer, a great speaker and presenter and because God gave it to me that I could use it for His good purposes. I hope for those who are contemplating, it will give you some information and courage. Please feel free to email me if you have questions. Don't wait to see if it shows up in the post. For the curious, it should be eye opening. I didn't know much about how it all worked until I had to go through it. A lot has changed in 50 years. To all, I pray it brings hope.