A Tale of Heartbreak: Giving Up My Child for Adoption

I can think of so many beginnings to this story and so many endings, but the story will be the same no matter what words I use to describe the heartache and break of those wonderful and terrible nine months. So I will just tell it plainly, as if I were telling a dear friend.

I didn't realize I was pregnant until the middle of June. I was a month and a half late, and when I found out, I was ecstatic. I had just gotten a beautiful engagement ring on my finger, not big, but something that showed the delicate promise of our love. His name was Arich. He was a tall, stringy boy, reaching 6'4" with enormous green eyes, and hair that was naturally red, but dyed so many times that the color was a mixture of black and an abnormal color of red, almost an orange.

Arich had proposed to me a few days after prom night, the night that we unknowingly had gotten pregnant. We were just two sex frenzied teenagers who loved to screw like jackrabbits, and we weren't thinking of the result of our lovemaking. We used condoms, we used spermicidal, and yet I still had a life growing inside of me as I found out later.

As I said before I was ecstatic about the pregnancy. I have always been a very maternal person, taking care of others was what I did best, compassionate about everything that drew my passions, and children and babies have always made me happy. Arich, on the other hand, was scared shitless. He automatically suggested an abortion, but I was raised a Christian and believe that any life, no matter how small or newly formed, is precious. Next he suggested adoption. He was adopted himself. He, in my opinion now, didn't turn out that great having gone through being adopted. He was a seriously fucked up person, mentally, that is. He had a lot of abandonment issues, on top of other weird quirks and oddities. I told him no, that I wanted to keep the baby.

As the weeks went by, turning into months, our relationship grew strained. He hadn't gone to any of my OB appointments, including the ultrasound. He was always disappearing, going off with his friends, and I suspected him of cheating on me, though I had no proof other than he was always with a female "friend" whenever he mysteriously vanished. We rarely saw each other, with him working his dinky job and going to college using his fathers vice presidency of the local college, Portland State University, as a free ride to his dreams and aspirations, and me working a full time night shift at the Plaid Pantry in Lake Owego. On top of our jobs, and his college, when he found out about the pregnancy he decided to reside in the outskirts of Portland, near St. Johns, with his father and step mother, making our seeing each other even less of an occurrence.

Every time I did see Arich, he was resentful, angry and hateful. He said and did things just to upset me, stupid childish things that wouldn't have normally affected me, but I was a VERY emotional pregnant woman. Not only was I going through this pregnancy alone, I was suffering sexual harassment at my job, which I eventually quit, I was living in a home for unwed mothers due to the fact that I was homeless for the first trimester of the pregnancy, and to top it all off, he hadn't told his parents that I was pregnant. I didn't know whether or not I could keep the baby just because I couldn't even take care of myself. I had no job, no car at the moment, no education but a GED ( I had dropped out of the last semester of high school for a job. The family that I had been living with prior to the pregnancy had kicked me out of their home for not having a job and I needed to save money for an apartment.) I couldn't even keep a relationship going.

The first time I saw his mother during the pregnancy was in the middle of November. Arich was walking me to the home for unwed mothers after a visit over at his mom's house and his mother was taking her nightly walk. He always made a point to see me or have me over at his house when his mother was gone.

It was chilly, and because I hadn't any money to buy a winter coat, I was wrapped up in a bulky blanket. As she rounded the corner, Arich froze up. His mother finding out about the pregnancy would get him grounded and probably a few other punishments as well, whether he was living with her or not. She stopped us, and started talking, asking why I had put on so much weight. I, still foolishly thinking that we had a chance at love, automatically took the lead and lied my butt off. Stress, of course was one of the lies, on top of not getting enough exercise. She accepted those lies easily as the truth. She couldn't see my stomach, covered by the blanket, just like the lies that were covering my life now, not just my falsehoods, but Arichs' as well.

After that chance encounter with his mom, things got worse. He kept making excuses as to why he couldn't see me, and couldn't go to the doctor appointments. They ranged from his car had broken down, to his friends car had broken down; his father had gotten into an accident, which, when I spoke with him later, became a completely different story.

My nineteenth birthday came and went in the middle of December, and I was 7 months pregnant with a little girl. We had both agreed on a name, and I had finally decided that placing her for adoption was the best thing that I could do for her as a mother. We went to a local adoption agency, and started looking at profiles for prospective parents. There was a gay couple that I liked, but it turned out that they had moved and already adopted a different child. We went with our second decision. A wonderful Christian couple that was a few years older than us, he had a wonderful job working with computers and she was a stay at home mom for their other adopted child, Lisa, who was seven years old. I thought that it was wonderful that our little flower was going to have an older sister and possibly other younger brothers and sisters after she grew to be older.

We met the couple and I was astounded at how closely they looked like us. She had the same pixie hair cut as I did, as well as pixie face and upturned nose, and although he was a lot shorter than Arich, they had similar facial features. They agreed to most of my terms for the adoption, pictures every year, one meeting with our daughter once a year, and updates on her development. They didn't agree on the name, they had one chosen out since they first started considering adopting another child. I was wishful, thinking that the name we had chosen out would grow on them, so I agreed and although no official paper work was to be filled out until after the baby was born, I started looking at them as her parents, though resentfully.

It was coming up on Christmas, and I had made plans with one of my friends to spend Christmas Eve until the day after Christmas with her and her astounding family. I had a wonderful Christmas, receiving only one call from Arich, and although I had wished for a visit from him, I was content with just talking to him. I was going to see him on the twenty-sixth to exchange gifts anyways.

The morning of the twenty-sixth I woke up fairly early. Feelings of panic and anxiety immediately stole over me, tears streaming down my face, I laid in my makeshift bed, sobbing, wanting to hurt myself, wanting to die for what I was going to do to my daughter. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, couldn't calm down no matter how hard I tried. I just lay there crying, my heart breaking a little more as every tear made its trek down my face. My friend, Rebecca, woke up to the sounds of my overwhelming sadness. She stole downstairs in her pajamas, quickly coming to me and putting a comforting arm around me. I cried into her shoulder, telling her of the terrifying feelings that I was having of death. She automatically knew that I was having an anxiety attack. She did the only thing she knew to do. She quickly got dressed, told her husband what was happening and to keep and eye on their children, and drove me to the hospital. This was no easy feat, considering that Portland and surrounding areas had just had a rather large snow storm. I will never forget what Rebecca did for me that day and the days to follow.

I was admitted to the psychiatric ward of the Good Samaritan Hospital, and underwent evaluation. The doctors decided that it was best to keep me for a few days. I was put into a room with an older woman, in her mid fifties. The best word to describe her was disheveled. She had short hair that looked as if she had taken a knife to it. The most notable thing about her was the large bandage taped to her neck right behind her jaw, and below her ear. She asked me what I had done to be admitted, and I replied that I had done nothing, I just didn't want to do anything stupid, that I didn't want to follow through with any of the horrible thoughts that were racing through my head. She didn't say anything to me after that, as if because I hadn't tried to blow out my brains as she had unsuccessfully attempted, I was not worthy of being spoken too, not creditable as a psychiatric patient, that I was not allowed to be in the psychiatric ward with all of the other people who had tried their hand at the grim reapers job.

I stayed in the psychiatric ward, wandering around, going too a few group sessions, but mainly staying in my now room-mate less quarters, and the art room, were we were given scissors that were used by kindergarten students, and we had to sign out pencils as well as other sharp pointy objects. I didn't want to speak to anybody but Rebecca, and Arich. Rebecca saw me everyday. Arich brought me a giant Reese's candy bar, and that was the only visit that I got from him. I spoke with him on the phone, telling him that I didn't know what I wanted to do after our child was born. I wanted so desperately to keep her, to see her everyday, but at the same time I knew that the best thing for her would be to give her up to a stable family.

The day before I was to be released from the hospital, New Years Eve day, I came to a decision. Arichs' parents, both his father and step-mother, as well as his mother, all deserved to know that they were going to be having a grandchild born to them in less than a month and a half. I called my friend Rebecca, asking her if she would be able to call his parents and break the news to them. She gladly accepted the task, wanting to stick a knife into Arich's back as far as possible for everything that he had put me through. I, on the other hand, had a task of my own. I was going to call Arich and tell him that his parents knew.

He answered the phone on the second ring. I couldn't help but be happy. A huge burden had been eased off of my shoulders. I no longer had to hide. I no longer had to lie about why I couldn't make it to dinner with his family. His parents would support me in my decision, I hoped, no matter what it was. I told him outright. I didn't sugar coat anything, I didn't even respond to his hello.

"Arich, I had Rebecca tell your parents about everything, they know everything, the pregnancy, how you've been treating me, were I am right now, they know all of your lies."

Silence for a few seconds then...

"WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DO THAT? YOU BITCH THIS IS GOING TO RUIN MY LIFE!!! DAMMIT..."

I interrupted him

"Until you calm down and start acting like an adult, stop calling me names and face up to the fact that you might have to actually take care of a child in another month and a half, don't bother calling me, don't come to see me. Hopefully that will be soon, because you and I both have a lot of growing up to do and fast."

"YOU'RE SUCH A CUNT!!" Yet another charming oath from the man I used to love.

"Goodbye Arich. Oh, and by the way, I'm breaking up with you."

I surprisingly received a call from his father almost as soon as I hung up the phone. He sounded very concerned, and asked if it was alright for him and his wife to come see me. I responded that it was. I think they mainly wanted to see my stomach to confirm that yes, I actually was pregnant, and not just faking the whole thing.

They arrived quickly, within 10 minutes of their call. They immediately pulled me into a hug, asking me if I was alright, not even bothering to hide the stares at my protruding stomach. I informed them in my own words of everything that had been happening and how I finally ended up in the psychiatric ward. They told me that they had called Arich on there way to the hospital and that he had said that the pregnancy and some of what I was saying was true. He apparently was grounded. School and home was all he was allowed. No phone calls but ones from me and too me. I personally thought he deserved a lot worse. Castration, having intestines removed, tied in knots, and put back in, but then I wasn't the one in control of the punishments, his parents were, and they would think my ideas for penance were a bit extreme.

I gladly said goodbye to them later that afternoon, after much crying and retelling of the past seven and a half months. I was exhausted; emotionally, physically, and mentally. I went into my room and laid on my bed and almost immediately fell into a deep restful sleep, one that I stayed in until seven the next morning, when a nurse came in to bring me my breakfast as well as papers to sign so I could leave the hospital after my last mental evaluation.

I left the hospital at noon in the pajama's I had arrived in. Rebecca was waiting for me at the front entrance, ready to take me home. She informed me that Arichs' mother wanted to hold a meeting with Arich, his father and step-mother, and myself to "figure this whole mess out." She also apologized that she couldn't come see me with Arichs' other parents.

I meet all of them at a restaurant the next day, and they all informed me that they felt adoption was the best thing to do. It would ruin Arichs' life otherwise. He'd have to quit his schooling, and get a full time job to take care of the baby. I, in return, informed them that the final decision was up to me and that at the moment I didn't know what I was going to do. I thanked them for their concern over how this would affect my life. That was the extent of the meeting, aside from them offering me bribe money to place the baby for adoption.

The next month and a half of my pregnancy went by quickly. I scheduled an induction with my doctor for the eleventh of February because I couldn't mentally handle the stress of being pregnant and not knowing what I was going to do. The last week of my pregnancy was spent in constant doubt of my decision, constant retractions of thoughts. I went into the hospital not knowing whether I was going to leave with a new life in my arms, or if another family was going to be blessed with my baby.

I was in labor by noon and dilated enough that the doctor broke my water. Arich was doing a decent job as a labor coach, but if it weren't for Rebecca being there, I don't know how long the labor would have lasted. By 7:37 pm I had a little child placed on my chest, beautiful and wonderful to hold. It was my daughter. How could I even think of letting her go to another family, how could I let anyone else love her the way I loved her. No one could ever feel for her the way I did. EVER.

Almost as soon as the doctor had finished stitching me up, our room was bombarded by guests. The woman who ran the home I was living in came, as well as some of the neighbors who lived down the street, family members from both sides, and of course nurses were streaming in and out of the room constantly, making sure the baby and I were doing well. I finally had enough and asked everyone to leave, and informed the nurses that unless I gave express permission no one was to be allowed in the room but medical staff, Arich, and Rebecca. The nurses gave me some pain medicine and kept my little flower in the nursery and brought her to my room when she needed to be feed so I could rest after my long day.

Arich and I slept fitfully, tossing and turning, him on his dinky pullout mattress and me on the crinkly hospital bed. I eventually got up and walked down to the nursery, and asked for my child, my angel without wings. The nurses brought her too me in her clear plastic crib on wheels. I carted her down to the room, turned on a dim light and just stared at her, touching her tiny features, seeing Arich and myself in her. Her eyes were shaped like mine, as well as her nose. She had Arichs long fingers and limbs. There was so much life in that infant. I picked her up out of her crib, and lay on the bed, her on my chest, crying softly to myself. I never knew that I could love one being so much. Never knew the heartache of loving a child, loving my own child.

Arich slept through this all, the tears, and the passions I was feeling; the moment my decision was made final. I knew that no matter how much I loved my baby, no matter how badly I wanted to be her mommy, how badly I wanted to see her everyday, watch her grow up, teach her the alphabet, listen to her laugh for the first time, walk for the first time, hold my hand, have me kiss her boo boos, sing her to sleep, I knew that no matter how much I wanted to be in her life forever, I couldn't. I knew that I would not be able to provide my angel with the kind of life that she deserved, the kind of life that I never had. I knew that I couldn't rely on her father for help. Look at how he had treated me when I was pregnant. I knew I had to give my baby a chance at a good life.

The next day I called the adoption agency and told them I had decided to go through with the adoption and that they needed to send my case worker to the hospital with the final paperwork. If she wanted to bring the adoptive parents to meet their new baby, that was fine. The case worker arrived with my child's soon-to-be parents in tow, and we discussed the adoption, went over all of the rules and guidelines of what could and couldn't happen. I expressed my wish to stay in the hospital another day so I could spend more time with my baby. They agreed to this, and left, the parents leaving with a scared, but hopeful look in their eyes. The rest of that day and night I held her, rarely letting her go, except to use the bathroom and to let Arich hold her when he wanted too. I cried myself to sleep that night.

The moment came earlier than I wanted. At 9:30 am her new parents and the caseworker arrived, carrying an infant car seat, and bringing me a gift of a beautiful lily, beautiful, new and pure, just like the baby they were going to take care of and call their own. We signed the paperwork, Arich and I, me pausing with the pen held poised over the papers, doubting whether I could do this. Her parents signed the paperwork, brimming over with happiness, tears of joy rolling down their faces, opposite the tears of sorrow running down mine and Arichs cheeks. The caseworker and her new parents left the room to allow Arich and I time to say goodbye to our angel. We dressed her, making sure that she had on the outfit we had chosen for her, checking her diaper, and feeding her one last time.

Arich strapped her into the car seat, and we carried her out into the hallway to her new family. I presented them with a blanket that I had sewn for the baby, wrapping it over her, tucking it in alongside the stuffed rabbit I had bought for her. A nurse came and took our picture, the new loving parents, smiling faces, standing next to the parents whose eyes were brimming with tears, faces red from long hours of crying, with the baby propped on a table between us.

We all walked down to the parking garage, Arich and I carrying the car seat, as if it were a burden that we needed to share together. At the sliding door, we sat her car seat down, and looked at her one last time, giving her our last kisses as her parents, whispering soft I love you's with our salty tears dropping on her beautiful face. We couldn't let go of the car seat. I couldn't let go. I didn't want to. I don't know how I had the strength to do it, with my heart screaming at me that I still had time, as long as I was still in the hospital, as long as they hadn't left with her, I could still change my mind. I looked at her, warm in her blanket and clothes, looked up at her new parents, and sobbingly told them to take good care of my angel. Then I placed the car seat in their hands, whispering one last I love you, sneaking in one last kiss.

The case worker stayed with Arich and I in the hall of the hospital as our child was carried out the door, into a new life, a life I couldn't give her myself, a life were she would have parents that could give her everything that she deserved.

I wanted so badly to run after them, to break free of Arichs' embrace, tell them I wanted my baby back, that I wanted to be her mommy, I wanted to teach her everything; I wanted to be the one there for her everyday. But in order for her to have a good life, I knew I had to pay for it with the price of my love. I remained where I was, crying as I am crying now. Sorrowful, but knowing that I made the right decision.

The Price of Love

All names have been changed to protect the people of this true story

I can think of so many beginnings to this story, and so many endings, but the story will be the same, no matter what words I use to describe the heartache and break of those wonderful and terrible nine months. So I will just tell it plainly, as if I were telling a dear friend.

I didn't realize I was pregnant until the middle of June. I was a month and a half late, and when I found out, I was ecstatic. I had just gotten a beautiful engagement ring on my finger, not big, but something that showed the delicate promise of our love. His name was Arich. He was a tall, stringy boy, reaching 6'4" with enormous green eyes, and hair that was naturally red, but dyed so many times that the color was a mixture of black and an abnormal color of red, almost an orange.

Arich had proposed to me a few days after prom night, the night that we unknowingly had gotten pregnant. We were just two sex frenzied teenagers who loved to screw like jackrabbits, and we weren't thinking of the result of our lovemaking. We used condoms, we used spermicidal, and yet I still had a life growing inside of me as I found out later.

As I said before I was ecstatic about the pregnancy. I have always been a very maternal person, taking care of others was what I did best, compassionate about everything that drew my passions, and children and babies have always made me happy.

Arich, on the other hand, was scared shitless. He automatically suggested an abortion, but I was raised a Christian and believe that any life, no matter how small or newly formed, is precious. Next he suggested adoption. He was adopted himself. He, in my opinion now, didn't turn out that great having gone through being adopted. He was a seriously fucked up person, mentally, that is. He had a lot of abandonment issues, on top of other weird quirks and oddities. I told him no, that I wanted to keep the baby.

As the weeks went by, turning into months, our relationship grew strained. He hadn't gone to any of my OB appointments, including the ultrasound. He was always disappearing, going off with his friends, and I suspected him of cheating on me, though I had no proof other than he was always with a female "friend" whenever he mysteriously vanished. We rarely saw each other, with him working his dinky job and going to college using his fathers vice presidency of the local college, Portland State University, as a free ride to his dreams and aspirations, and me working a full time night shift at the Plaid Pantry in Lake Owego. On top of our jobs, and his college, when he found out about the pregnancy he decided to reside in the outskirts of Portland, near St. Johns, with his father and step mother, making our seeing each other even less of an occurrence.

Every time I did see Arich, he was resentful, angry and hateful. He said and did things just to upset me, stupid childish things that wouldn't have normally affected me, but I was a VERY emotional pregnant woman. Not only was I going through this pregnancy alone, I was suffering sexual harassment at my job, which I eventually quit, I was living in a home for unwed mothers due to the fact that I was homeless for the first trimester of the pregnancy, and to top it all off, he hadn't told his parents that I was pregnant. I didn't know whether or not I could keep the baby just because I couldn't even take care of myself. I had no job, no car at the moment, no education but a GED ( I had dropped out of the last semester of high school for a job. The family that I had been living with prior to the pregnancy had kicked me out of their home for not having a job and I needed to save money for an apartment.) I couldn't even keep a relationship going.

The first time I saw his mother during the pregnancy was in the middle of November. Arich was walking me to the home for unwed mothers after a visit over at his mom's house and his mother was taking her nightly walk. He always made a point to see me or have me over at his house when his mother was gone.

It was chilly, and because I hadn't any money to buy a winter coat, I was wrapped up in a bulky blanket. As she rounded the corner, Arich froze up. His mother finding out about the pregnancy would get him grounded and probably a few other punishments as well, whether he was living with her or not. She stopped us, and started talking, asking why I had put on so much weight. I, still foolishly thinking that we had a chance at love, automatically took the lead and lied my butt off. Stress, of course was one of the lies, on top of not getting enough exercise. She accepted those lies easily as the truth. She couldn't see my stomach, covered by the blanket, just like the lies that were covering my life now, not just my falsehoods, but Arichs' as well.

After that chance encounter with his mom, things got worse. He kept making excuses as to why he couldn't see me, and couldn't go to the doctor appointments. They ranged from his car had broken down, to his friends car had broken down; his father had gotten into an accident, which, when I spoke with him later, became a completely different story.

My nineteenth birthday came and went in the middle of December, and I was 7 months pregnant with a little girl. We had both agreed on a name, and I had finally decided that placing her for adoption was the best thing that I could do for her as a mother. We went to a local adoption agency, and started looking at profiles for prospective parents. There was a gay couple that I liked, but it turned out that they had moved and already adopted a different child. We went with our second decision. A wonderful Christian couple that was a few years older than us, he had a wonderful job working with computers and she was a stay at home mom for their other adopted child, Lisa, who was seven years old. I thought that it was wonderful that our little flower was going to have an older sister and possibly other younger brothers and sisters after she grew to be older.

We met the couple and I was astounded at how closely they looked like us. She had the same pixie hair cut as I did, as well as pixie face and upturned nose, and although he was a lot shorter than Arich, they had similar facial features. They agreed to most of my terms for the adoption, pictures every year, one meeting with our daughter once a year, and updates on her development. They didn't agree on the name, they had one chosen out since they first started considering adopting another child. I was wishful, thinking that the name we had chosen out would grow on them, so I agreed and although no official paper work was to be filled out until after the baby was born, I started looking at them as her parents, though resentfully.

It was coming up on Christmas, and I had made plans with one of my friends to spend Christmas Eve until the day after Christmas with her and her astounding family. I had a wonderful Christmas, receiving only one call from Arich, and although I had wished for a visit from him, I was content with just talking to him. I was going to see him on the twenty-sixth to exchange gifts anyways.

The morning of the twenty-sixth I woke up fairly early. Feelings of panic and anxiety immediately stole over me, tears streaming down my face, I laid in my makeshift bed, sobbing, wanting to hurt myself, wanting to die for what I was going to do to my daughter. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, couldn't calm down no matter how hard I tried. I just lay there crying, my heart breaking a little more as every tear made its trek down my face. My friend, Rebecca, woke up to the sounds of my overwhelming sadness. She stole downstairs in her pajamas, quickly coming to me and putting a comforting arm around me. I cried into her shoulder, telling her of the terrifying feelings that I was having of death. She automatically knew that I was having an anxiety attack. She did the only thing she knew to do. She quickly got dressed, told her husband what was happening and to keep and eye on their children, and drove me to the hospital. This was no easy feat, considering that Portland and surrounding areas had just had a rather large snow storm. I will never forget what Rebecca did for me that day and the days to follow.

I was admitted to the psychiatric ward of the Good Samaritan Hospital, and underwent evaluation. The doctors decided that it was best to keep me for a few days. I was put into a room with an older woman, in her mid fifties. The best word to describe her was disheveled. She had short hair that looked as if she had taken a knife to it. The most notable thing about her was the large bandage taped to her neck right behind her jaw, and below her ear. She asked me what I had done to be admitted, and I replied that I had done nothing, I just didn't want to do anything stupid, that I didn't want to follow through with any of the horrible thoughts that were racing through my head. She didn't say anything to me after that, as if because I hadn't tried to blow out my brains as she had unsuccessfully attempted, I was not worthy of being spoken too, not creditable as a psychiatric patient, that I was not allowed to be in the psychiatric ward with all of the other people who had tried their hand at the grim reapers job.

I stayed in the psychiatric ward, wandering around, going too a few group sessions, but mainly staying in my now room-mate less quarters, and the art room, were we were given scissors that were used by kindergarten students, and we had to sign out pencils as well as other sharp pointy objects. I didn't want to speak to anybody but Rebecca, and Arich. Rebecca saw me everyday. Arich brought me a giant Reese's candy bar, and that was the only visit that I got from him. I spoke with him on the phone, telling him that I didn't know what I wanted to do after our child was born. I wanted so desperately to keep her, to see her everyday, but at the same time I knew that the best thing for her would be to give her up to a stable family.

The day before I was to be released from the hospital, New Years Eve day, I came to a decision. Arichs' parents, both his father and step-mother, as well as his mother, all deserved to know that they were going to be having a grandchild born to them in less than a month and a half. I called my friend Rebecca, asking her if she would be able to call his parents and break the news to them. She gladly accepted the task, wanting to stick a knife into Arich's back as far as possible for everything that he had put me through. I, on the other hand, had a task of my own. I was going to call Arich and tell him that his parents knew.

He answered the phone on the second ring. I couldn't help but be happy. A huge burden had been eased off of my shoulders. I no longer had to hide. I no longer had to lie about why I couldn't make it to dinner with his family. His parents would support me in my decision, I hoped, no matter what it was. I told him outright. I didn't sugar coat anything, I didn't even respond to his hello.

"Arich, I had Rebecca tell your parents about everything, they know everything, the pregnancy, how you've been treating me, were I am right now, they know all of your lies."

Silence for a few seconds then...

"WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU DO THAT? YOU BITCH THIS IS GOING TO RUIN MY LIFE!!!"

He said a few choice expletives that would make an army man blush, and then I interrupted him

"Until you calm down and start acting like an adult, stop calling me names and face up to the fact that you might have to actually take care of a child in another month and a half, don't bother calling me, don't come to see me. Hopefully that will be soon, because you and I both have a lot of growing up to do and fast."

"YOU'RE SUCH A CUNT!!" Yet another charming oath from the man I used to love..

"Goodbye Arich. Oh, and by the way, I'm breaking up with you."

I surprisingly received a call from his father almost as soon as I hung up the phone. He sounded very concerned, and asked if it was alright for him and his wife to come see me. I responded that it was. I think they mainly wanted to see my stomach to confirm that yes, I actually was pregnant, and not just faking the whole thing.

They arrived quickly, within 10 minutes of their call. They immediately pulled me into a hug, asking me if I was alright, not even bothering to hide the stares at my protruding stomach. I informed them in my own words of everything that had been happening and how I finally ended up in the psychiatric ward. They told me that they had called Arich on there way to the hospital and that he had said that the pregnancy and some of what I was saying was true. He apparently was grounded. School and home was all he was allowed. No phone calls but ones from me and too me. I personally thought he deserved a lot worse. Castration, having intestines removed, tied in knots, and put back in, but then I wasn't the one in control of the punishments, his parents were, and they would think my ideas for penance were a bit extreme.

I gladly said goodbye to them later that afternoon, after much crying and retelling of the past seven and a half months. I was exhausted; emotionally, physically, and mentally. I went into my room and laid on my bed and almost immediately fell into a deep restful sleep, one that I stayed in until seven the next morning, when a nurse came in to bring me my breakfast as well as papers to sign so I could leave the hospital after my last mental evaluation.

I left the hospital at noon in the pajama's I had arrived in. Rebecca was waiting for me at the front entrance, ready to take me home. She informed me that Arichs' mother wanted to hold a meeting with Arich, his father and step-mother, and myself to "figure this whole mess out." She also apologized that she couldn't come see me with Arichs' other parents.

I meet all of them at a restaurant the next day, and they all informed me that they felt adoption was the best thing to do. It would ruin Arichs' life otherwise. He'd have to quit his schooling, and get a full time job to take care of the baby. I, in return, informed them that the final decision was up to me and that at the moment I didn't know what I was going to do. I thanked them for their concern over how this would affect my life. That was the extent of the meeting, aside from them offering me bribe money to place the baby for adoption.

The next month and a half of my pregnancy went by quickly. I scheduled an induction with my doctor for the eleventh of February because I couldn't mentally handle the stress of being pregnant and not knowing what I was going to do. The last week of my pregnancy was spent in constant doubt of my decision, constant retractions of thoughts. I went into the hospital not knowing whether I was going to leave with a new life in my arms, or if another family was going to be blessed with my baby.

I was in labor by noon and dilated enough that the doctor broke my water. Arich was doing a decent job as a labor coach, but if it weren't for Rebecca being there, I don't know how long the labor would have lasted. By 7:37 pm I had a little child placed on my chest, beautiful and wonderful to hold. It was my daughter. How could I even think of letting her go to another family, how could I let anyone else love her the way I loved her. No one could ever feel for her the way I did. EVER.

Almost as soon as the doctor had finished stitching me up, our room was bombarded by guests. The woman who ran the home I was living in came, as well as some of the neighbors who lived down the street, family members from both sides, and of course nurses were streaming in and out of the room constantly, making sure the baby and I were doing well. I finally had enough and asked everyone to leave, and informed the nurses that unless I gave express permission no one was to be allowed in the room but medical staff, Arich, and Rebecca. The nurses gave me some pain medicine and kept my little flower in the nursery and brought her to my room when she needed to be feed so I could rest after my long day.

Arich and I slept fitfully, tossing and turning, him on his dinky pullout mattress and me on the crinkly hospital bed. I eventually got up and walked down to the nursery, and asked for my child, my angel without wings. The nurses brought her too me in her clear plastic crib on wheels. I carted her down to the room, turned on a dim light and just stared at her, touching her tiny features, seeing Arich and myself in her. Her eyes were shaped like mine, as well as her nose. She had Arichs long fingers and limbs. There was so much life in that infant. I picked her up out of her crib, and lay on the bed, her on my chest, crying softly to myself. I never knew that I could love one being so much. Never knew the heartache of loving a child, loving my own child.

Arich slept through this all, the tears, and the passions I was feeling; the moment my decision was made final. I knew that no matter how much I loved my baby, no matter how badly I wanted to be her mommy, how badly I wanted to see her everyday, watch her grow up, teach her the alphabet, listen to her laugh for the first time, walk for the first time, hold my hand, have me kiss her boo boos, sing her to sleep, I knew that no matter how much I wanted to be in her life forever, I couldn't. I knew that I would not be able to provide my angel with the kind of life that she deserved, the kind of life that I never had. I knew that I couldn't rely on her father for help. Look at how he had treated me when I was pregnant. I knew I had to give my baby a chance at a good life.

The next day I called the adoption agency and told them I had decided to go through with the adoption and that they needed to send my case worker to the hospital with the final paperwork. If she wanted to bring the adoptive parents to meet their new baby, that was fine.

The case worker arrived with my child's soon-to-be parents in tow, and we discussed the adoption, went over all of the rules and guidelines of what could and couldn't happen. I expressed my wish to stay in the hospital another day so I could spend more time with my baby. They agreed to this, and left, the parents leaving with a scared, but hopeful look in their eyes. The rest of that day and night I held her, rarely letting her go, except to use the bathroom and to let Arich hold her when he wanted too. I cried myself to sleep that night.

The moment came earlier than I wanted. At 9:30 am her new parents and the caseworker arrived, carrying an infant car seat, and bringing me a gift of a beautiful lily, beautiful, new and pure, just like the baby they were going to take care of and call their own. We signed the paperwork, Arich and I, me pausing with the pen held poised over the papers, doubting whether I could do this. Her parents signed the paperwork, brimming over with happiness, tears of joy rolling down their faces, opposite the tears of sorrow running down mine and Arichs cheeks. The caseworker and her new parents left the room to allow Arich and I time to say goodbye to our angel. We dressed her, making sure that she had on the outfit we had chosen for her, checking her diaper, and feeding her one last time.

Arich strapped her into the car seat, and we carried her out into the hallway to her new family. I presented them with a blanket that I had sewn for the baby, wrapping it over her, tucking it in alongside the stuffed rabbit I had bought for her. A nurse came and took our picture, the new loving parents, smiling faces, standing next to the parents whose eyes were brimming with tears, faces red from long hours of crying, with the baby propped on a table between us.

We all walked down to the parking garage, Arich and I carrying the car seat, as if it were a burden that we needed to share together. At the sliding door, we sat her car seat down, and looked at her one last time, giving her our last kisses as her parents, whispering soft I love you's with our salty tears dropping on her beautiful face. We couldn't let go of the car seat. I couldn't let go. I didn't want to. I don't know how I had the strength to do it, with my heart screaming at me that I still had time, as long as I was still in the hospital, as long as they hadn't left with her, I could still change my mind. I looked at her, warm in her blanket and clothes, looked up at her new parents, and sobbingly told them to take good care of my angel. Then I placed the car seat in their hands, whispering one last I love you, sneaking in one last kiss.

The case worker stayed with Arich and I in the hall of the hospital as our child was carried out the door, into a new life, a life I couldn't give her myself, a life were she would have parents that could give her everything that she deserved. I wanted so badly to run after them, to break free of Arichs' embrace, tell them I wanted my baby back, that I wanted to be her mommy, I wanted to teach her everything; I wanted to be the one there for her everyday, loving and taking care of her every need. But in order for her to have a good life, I knew I had to pay for it with the price of my love.

I remained where I was, crying as I am crying now. Sorrowful, but knowing that I made the right decision.