It’s hard to believe that I went to bed 3 years ago with my son with me, and then woke up to go deliver him, and give him to his adoptive family.
That was a rough night, I was anxious about everything, but I was so ready to be done with the pregnancy, that I don’t think it really sunk in as to what I was really doing.
I knew I was going to go through with it, I never once questioned that. I didn’t necessarily want to give him to the adoptive family, but I knew that keeping him was not what was best for him, or myself.
The first few nights after the birth and placement were pretty rough. It didn’t dawn on me until after how much of an impact this had all taken on me, or would have taken on me. And it hit like a ton of bricks.
You know how people who have gone through a loss, especially an infant loss (or adoption), say that they wake up thinking they heard a baby? That didn’t really happen to me, it was more of an emptiness. I’d wake up feeling empty. My arms felt empty, my womb felt empty. I’d find myself rocking myself to sleep. Crying until I could no longer cry.
I’m just so glad that I’m not there, at that point any more. I miss him like crazy, and I think of him EVERY DAY! But I’m happy with my decision, and my life. I really wouldn’t want to change a thing. And I think that says a lot about where I’m at.
So happy birthday son. I love you and miss you so much!
