Confessions of a Single Parent

At 20 and living with my boyfriend, I discovered I was pregnant. Mistaking flu symptoms with morning sickness took me to a doctor. Up to this point our life was carefree, working odd jobs. Traveling on the back of our Harley around the Pacific Northwest. A baby? Responsibility was for other people not us.

I was young, naive despite "knowing-it-all" and not ready to wake up pregnant. Too late! Breaking the news to my boyfriend wasn't an easy task. I sensed that it wouldn't go well but knowing deep down I could not go through another abortion. Molested as a child by my biological father caused pregnancy at 14. When the molestation and pregnancy came out, I was forced into a second-term abortion. The entire ordeal was horrifying and has been with me everyday of my life since. Although older, my boyfriend understood my insistence that I could not go through with termination.

Mutually we decided that we weren't ready to be parents yet. Letting the subject drop for a week or so to give each of us time to decide what the best option would be. I struggled with my thoughts and guilt. I knew that marriage wasn't in the picture and felt remorse when I would have to tell my parents. Adoption seemed the only option and the best choice finally to us both.

It wasn't difficult to find a reputable organization that helped pregnant mothers and childless couples come together. I had a wonderful counselor, Kay, who was very attenative and a great coach and listener. The more my body changed, the better Kay explained everything to me between doctor's visits. Also as Kay and Joyce our neighbor and a close friend were helpful and supportive; the more my significant other withdrew from me.

My pregnancy didn't go exactly as planned, but then again not much in my life ever has. I was high risk by the end with Toxemia. Had gained huge amounts of weight and the baby was late over two weeks. Summertime feeling like a beached whale is no picnic. In an upstairs apartment with only two windows and no air conditioning. Especially when forced to lay down on your left side 24 hours per day for the babies' health. My 21st birthday was nearing quickly. I swore I would celebrate it as an elephant, wearing the big top.

To complicate things, my doctor leaves on vacation just as the slow-motion action began. Meeting his partner and being examined must have made the baby decide it was time. A few hours after the doctor's exam, my water broke (no pains) while sitting down to cut potatoes for dinner. This is not how it is supposed to be. Two days and mind-bending agony later the baby was delivered by Caesarean section. Many complications worried the doctor. With no sleep the entire time and once knocked out for the doctor to finish the surgery - I didn't stay asleep. I have problems with sleeping in ALL situations. Yes, even with IV-drugs during surgery.

I awoke to the doctor and nurses discussing my situation as a possible adoptive parent. At least two different nurse's voices were espousing the fact that I should not be allowed any interaction with the newborn. I recognized my doctor's voice saying that until I signed any formal paperwork that my rights were not to be hampered. Soon the anesthetist must have realized I was no longer asleep because he murmured something I couldn't make out and everyone got quiet. He began joking "was I ready to have anymore babies soon?" And then I was in dream land once more. In and out of consciousness for the better part of that day.

I didn't meet my daughter until she was 12 hours old. Weighing nearly 10 pounds and 21 inches in length, she looked anything but a newborn babe. She had a huge strawberry birthmark the started between her eyes and ran up to the top of her head. Saggy sort of jowls and bald as a cue ball. But in my eyes the most beautiful creature in the world at that moment. I was able to spend four days with her trying not to get attached. Understanding that she would be going with the family I had chosen for her. Heartbroken but knowing I was making an important choice.

By the third day, post-partum blues set in and being manic didn't help a bit. I wasn't sleeping as much as I should have been to heal. (uh, yeah) Tears and depression made me realize I couldn't let go! On the fourth day I was a mess. Giving in to my grief while writing a letter to my daughter to be shared eventually. Someday when her adoption discussion would come about. I couldn't let her leave! It broke several hearts when I signed my name to the her birth certificate and named her. By the afternoon of the fifth day we took her home.

Being unprepared for such a huge event, I didn't care. We would figure it out day by day. And for the first four months, WE did. Then it was just me alone with my daughter. Ten days before her first Christmas instant responsibility forced me to grow up. I became not only Mom but Dad also. And to this day my role has never changed. At no time have I ever tried to paint any dark or horrible picture to my daughter of her paternal donor. She was raised knowing and being a part of and loved by her paternal extended family.

No exact date stands out in my mind for changing references to her dad. Though at some point my daughter insisted that we no longer refer to her biological father in any way but: The Sperm Donor. Proudly exclaiming "that it takes more than sex to make a father or be a dad." And each time I honor her wishes, it raises eyebrows and begs explanation which I honestly give.

There are no fairy tales to this story. I wish that I could tell you that life was all rosy and perfect but it would be erroneous. There have been times tougher than a bad cut of steak. Love, trust and friendship helped us survive the rough patches and makes us closer even today.

After nearly 25 years of being a single parent, life has changed dramatically. There are still brief glimpses via memory of the girl I was and the woman I have become. The choices I made and the lessons learned. Moments of doubt trying my patience but believing that I would never change my position faced with the choice again.

As luck would have it, I was able to thank my doctor's partner many year's later. For fighting for my right to be with my baby and giving me that chance to discover my strength to parent her. Although he didn't remember me, I know he was touched by my gratefulness.

My hope is that the family chosen originally for my baby girl found as much love and joy as I have. Despite the ups and downs, disappointing instances and sheer luck at times. I have been fortunate that my daughter came out healthy, grew up happy and is a productive adult. I wouldn't trade having to share everything, or pinching pennies to make it through another week. Or knowing that I lived and got up each day with the purpose of motherhood as a single woman.

Now if I succeed at convincing her the importance to get into college and get her degree finally. My purpose will be fulfilled. Plus I will prove Dan Quayle's opinion wrong about all single parents!