Best Christmas Gift

The best gift ever is being able to see my sweet baby!

Ben and his family were able to travel over the mountains to see me this weekend and it was the best day ever! First of all, he's not chubby anymore but he makes up for it by being so vocal with his raspy little voice. And oh my goodness does he look like Andrew (who only said a couple of words to me during our visit with Ben, but hey at least he woke up for it.)

After eating dinner, I just got to sit there and watch his dad make him giggle for an entire hour. It was incredible. Then we went to Andrew's on Saturday morning and ate breakfast and played with Ben's new toys.

Something interesting happened when we were saying our goodbyes at Andrew's. His dad was shaking Derek's hand, saying thank you for coming. And then he got super emotional and started crying. And his kids were all 'Dad you're over reacting.' and I just patted his shoulder, because he has a right to be sad. Here is this freaking perfect child I created and Andrew swept under the rug; the consequence of that is them seldom seeing their perfect grandchild, their only grandchild. So much of me feels that maybe if they taught their son to take responsibility for his actions, we could all see Ben all the time because I COULD STILL HAVE MY BABY. But instead, they encouraged him to be selfish, and forced me to give up Ben. They're finally starting to feel his loss. Welcome to hell.

I've always had this dream to go to my grocery store with my baby. Maybe it's because I'm there constantly and I see all the other moms who get to go shopping with their baby, and I definitely envy them. Ann made my dreams come true! I got to go into my store and hold my baby for 20 minutes while I introduced him to some of my coworkers. And it was as magical as I always envisioned it to be. He even stuck to my side because I was less of a stranger than everyone else. Meanwhile, Zach got to meet Ann and Derek.

But basically, this day was perfect. I got to be with Ben, Zach, my work, and I even had a photoshoot! I want to relive it over and over again.

Also, I got another promotion :)

They're basically twins. It's perfect.

Ben reading half english-half spanish books with Derek.

My baby at my grocery store!!!

Too Young

Last week, I GOT ENGAGED!

We put a lot of thought into whether we should even announce it because we would basically asking for people to judge us. But to keep it secretive would invite even more questioning. 

When we decided to say it, I told him that people might "like" it and then talk crap behind our backs. Which of course actually happened.

We've received a lot of mind-opening feedback, honestly. But only a couple really stick out to me. Mostly though, "are you guys getting married so fast because she's pregnant?!" 

I WISH. Trust me if I could just voilá and be pregnant, I would. But unfortunately, we're only getting married because we are crazy in love with each other. Sorry y'all. Also, getting married because you're pregnant isn't a bad thing. So don't say it with such distaste in your judgmental mouth. 

In the Mormon culture, getting married at 20 is completely normal. Getting married after only dating a couple months is completely normal. My oldest sister was married at the same time in my life when I met Zach. So I'm behind. Okay not really but I really hope you catch my drift. 

I know what you're all thinking and why you're thinking it. 

Because 20 is young. I totally get that.

But 4 was too young; the first time I was thrown from my chair across the room because I dropped my cup of juice at dinner and spilled its contents. 

7 was too young; the first time I got punched because I didn't know how to do the math problem.

And 14 was too young; when my sister had to scream and wrestle him just so he wouldn't stab me with my golf club he just snapped in half, all because the ball wouldn't fly straight.

16 was too young; I was left alone with my parents, the protection of my sisters gone when they finally could escape to colleges around the world, and I succumbed to the depression that had always been looming.

And 17 was too young; when I was forced into adulthood after becoming just another domestic-violence teenage-pregnancy case.

18 was way too young- when my purpose for life, my whole heart and soul was ripped away from me.

19 was too young; when I got punched, shoved, cussed out and degraded in every way, every day by a boy who said he loved me.

So 20? 20 has been what I've been waiting for. 20 is finally happening. He's never going to hit me. He's never going to say derogatory things to me, or about me to his friends. He's going to help me out of this blackness. He's going to love me despite the hate, and cruelty and bitterness that I have become because of the things I've had to experience in my younger years. He's going to accept all my apologies, because we hate fighting, and we love each other. He's going to make me smile, and laugh, and snicker every single day. And when he tells me he loves me, I know with every fiber of my being that he means it, and he will always mean it.

Because I already knew by the day I turned 20, mere weeks after we met, that I wanted to be with him forever.

Because he is making all my dreams come true. And he is better than any dream I've ever dreamt.

Because when you've had to go through all the horrible things I've had to, you learn to cling to all the

light and happiness you can find in this annoyingly long life.

And I will cling. Even though I'm only 20.

National Adoption Awareness (of how much it sucks) Month

So. November is National Adoption Awareness Month.

I really loved what I was able to do last year on the blog, “Knit Together through Adoption.”

This year, I have absolutely no motivation to tell you to not be ignorant. I have no patience for people not understanding. I’m tired of hearing from adoptive parents. I’m so done with adoption.

You see, people try to paint this beautiful picture of adoption, weaving families together, growing family orchards instead of just trees. I can’t sit here and say that’s always a lie, because some people actually desired adoption when they found out they were pregnant and it has worked out for them.

But it’s all a lie for me.

“Adoption is…” is a campaign I’ve been following on Instagram this season and all I am seeing is positive positive positive. It’s sickening. Because in my reality, adoption is: never ending pain, permanent uncertainty, guilt, promises you never wanted to keep, it is forced and unwanted.

I want my baby back. And it’s way too late and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I can’t change the decision that I was forced to make by my abusive boyfriend and “supportive” family members while I was underage (when the initial process started) and clearly not in a good state of mind (hormones, duh.) And then our lovely state law decrees I only get 48 hours after my baby’s birth (aka 21 hours after leaving the hospital without him) to change my mind. WELL GUESS WHAT?! I cannot possibly count the amount of times I told the people in the hospital that I didn’t want to do this, or the amount of times I told my family I didn’t want to do this. So as much as I’m his mother, I could’ve kept him ladeedah, I DIDN’T GET A FREAKING VOTE.

I hate adoption. I am not doing okay. I want my baby.

The best part is when my sister pulled me aside last month and started talking to me about God and coming back to church. I told her that I couldn’t, not yet, because I am so angry. Adoption has messed me up. I am too bitter and angry with God for giving me my baby just to take him away and dangle him in front of me for my torture and his amusement. She looked at her sweet baby that was crawling around and admitted that she couldn’t even fathom what it would be like if someone took her baby from her. THANK GOD. AFTER YOU’VE FORCED ME TO GIVE UP MY BABY, BUT THEN GOT YOUR OWN, YOU’VE REALIZED WHAT IT ACTUALLY MEANS TO BE A MAMA BEAR. Guess what?! It’s too late. You already took him from me. I’m glad you trying to understand now, but it’s too late. It’s always going to be too late.

He’s gone. I’m alone and my heart is broken. 

50 Pounds of Potatoes

 I GOT TO SEE MY BABY!

I am seriously so in love with Ben. He is so gentle and kind and happy!

Me, best friend Rachel and her fiancee Cameron drove the three and a half hours to see Ben and his family this weekend. Ann made us the best chili I've ever had and Ben spun around in circles laughing at himself. He's so self-entertained but loved showing off to us too. We didn't think he would ever wind down for the night, but eventually he did and so we went to our hotel and went swimming. I had quite the day though (starting at 10:30 the night previous, then working then driving!) so I actually managed to fall asleep in the hot tub. 

The next day, we went to a park by the river where Ben took his sweet time warming up to us but eventually was giggly and running around. Then we got to go see Derek's farming process! There was an endless supply of potatoes in sight being stored for winter. If you can imagine what 7,000 tons of potatoes look like, then triple it, and that's how many we saw. And we even got to bring 50 pounds home. My whole apartment smells like potatoes. It was so cool seeing how the whole process works and understanding the work ethic that Ben will eventually learn. 

Oooh, also, Ben let me hold him for five minutes! He didn't even squirm or want anyone else until Derek showed up, but that's to be expected. But oh my goodness it was the best five minutes ever because he was actually choosing to let me love him! 

Everyone who has their babies, hold them a little tighter for me.

 

Scarred

I’ve been silent for a while now. I keep sitting here, thinking about all the thousands of things that I want to say and yet there is nothing to show for it.

I guess I’m still pretty messed up, from this adoption and also from my abusive relationship. My mind has been twisted and warped into this knot of negativity, completely impenetrable from even the greatest of joys.

With the adoption, I just can’t find the happy things anymore. It was a reach before that I managed, but the future doesn’t look too bright. I feel that the more Ben grows up, the less he likes me. Like of course a sweet, squishy baby will love me when I’m feeding him his bottle. And then I was able to bribe him onto my lap with food when I went 6 months ago. But now he is mobile, and he knows what he wants. And I know that isn’t me. Why should it be anyway? I mean absolutely nothing to him, and I know that the only reason he might in the future is because of Ann and Derek telling him that he should. Otherwise I’m just this random nobody. Everyone is so obsessed with the idea that he’ll automatically know me and love me and cherish me. Why should he? Honestly, he likes my best friend better. Any instinct he might have had that I was his mother probably went away the second they took him from me.

I feel this giant disconnect between us. I’m so crazy in love with him. He is my whole world. No one can replace him, and I crave him every second of every day. And he feels absolutely none of that towards me, and he probably never will.

Then there’s the little tidbit about having been with Andrew. I didn’t know that the scars he left reached so deep inside of me. He taught me many things that unfortunately have transferred into my treatment of other men, even though they are kinder than he ever was.

He taught me that I am easily disposed of, that the smallest mistake means that I’m worthless and pointless to keep around. He taught me that promises are nothing more than pretty words with an opposite outcome. He showed me he could only stand to be near me if he was intoxicated. He taught me that kisses and touches and sex can be taken from me without my desire or permission, and that I have no choice but to silently allow it to happen or else I’ll get hit. He taught me that loud voices and cuss words being screamed at me is just the beginning to another horrible night filled with tears, pain, and cruelty.

And I know it’s not fair to think that everyone else is like him. I know I need to start over in this new relationship with a clean slate, no assumptions, and no hating him for something Andrew would’ve done. But I’m too scarred. I can’t even be woken up with kisses because it’s complete post-traumatic-stress of when Andrew forced himself on me in the middle of the night, and I couldn’t get my body to wake up and fight him off. I can’t stand hearing my boyfriend cussing loudly about his stresses at work because in the back of my mind there’s a huge, red DANGER sign flashing at me to flee. I can’t be hugged too hard because I start panicking, or be left alone for too long because I go suicidal. Basically, I’m a mess. And I want to sit here and point fingers and blame him for everything. I wish I had left earlier. I wish I had realized that being alone (even for as temporary as it was) is not as horrible as constantly being stuck in the room of the man who supposedly loves you but would rather bruise you. God, I am so messed up. I think the worst part is that people knew. They knew and they gave advice and none of it worked and I stayed and I kept getting degraded and everyone could see and I was stuck. But I think that even if I did leave earlier, I still would be this messed up.

I miss my baby. Please, give me back my baby. 

Bad Days

I'm the type of person who complains a lot. I'm not afraid to be vocal. But people don't like hearing that I'm not doing okay. People celebrate adoption because it makes deserving couples parents. Wonderful. But that's just the sunflowers and daisies perspective. The other side is just this massive hole of never ending darkness. You need to understand the key words there: never ending.

Trust me, I see how happy they are with Ben. I loved watching them become parents. Most people will never get to do what I got to do. It was so amazing handing them the answer to their prayers. I saw a miracle that day. I was a miracle for them.

But. Their happiness is my misery.

I'm a momma bear that had her baby bear taken from her. I'm just as vicious as her and protective as her, but I'm missing my baby. People think that they're helping when they show me blogs or posts or "uplifting" quotes. No, oh my goodness, no. Please. You can not fix me. You can not fix this situation. Lord knows that no one's going to let me have my baby back.

I've learned that I need something from people, desperately, if they're going to talk to me about Ben and adoption. It's not empathy, but it's permission to feel the way I feel. Don't try to tell me to only look at the positives, because all I hear is "get over it," or "there's nothing to feel sad about." When people say to think about how much better Ben is because I gave him up for adoption, I hear "you would've been an incompetent mother and he would've been so unhappy if he had to stay with you." Don't tell me to stop crying, but also, don't tell me to let it out.

Grief looks different every time I feel it.

Especially when I'm battling between "adoption is a miracle" and "I lost my baby."

Right now, all I feel is that I lost my baby. And the bad days are really bad.

And there's no new pictures, again.

Birthday Girl

Yesterday, I finally turned 20! It's wonderful to not be a pesky, immature teenager. Birthdays have never been a miraculous thing in my life--it's usually the worst day of the year. I feel like we hype it up so much and get excited for things that are never going to happen, because to everyone else, it's just another day. This year was going to be just like that until my manager convinced to me go to dinner, and to invite my friends. And because I'm so blessed to have some pretty amazing people as my friends, they all were so excited to join me!

The day started with pancakes for breakfast, card games, and free Starbucks thanks to Shaleena. Then my baby FaceTimed! I was so miserable the night before and was crying for hours because I miss Ben so freaking much it physically hurts. I've been so happy the last 3 weeks, so my daily crying-because-I-don't-have-my-baby sessions haven't been happening. It all built up, and then it all exploded. Seeing him, even just through the phone, is so wonderful. I love hearing his voice, and his giggles, seeing him play with his dad, hearing him cry, watching him curiously watch me and learning all the things he's up to. He is magical. It almost feel imaginary sometimes. Like maybe I made it all up. This perfect creature couldn't possibly be made of me. He's too "everything-I've-ever-dreamed-of." I might get to visit him in a month's time, and it is so hard to wait.

I've been struggling with something for the last few weeks always really. HAPPINESS. I've been so desperate for it for years now. And now that I have it, I'm so apprehensive.

I'm finally moving out! Like for real. It's something I've been anxiously waiting for since I was 14. If I hadn't been pregnant when I went to Utah for college, I would've stayed there. If Rachel didn't convince me to stay here back in May, I would've moved to Arizona by now. But now, we finally got our stuff together and I'm moving out with two of my friends into an amazing apartment. I'm beyond excited. I feel so lucky that it's all working out. It has to work out. We're putting in so much effort to make it work out. Please just let this go right. I have all these doubts in my head, and all these variables that need to work out; I have a really good feeling, but it's still such a big step with much responsibility, but also much happiness and freedom.

When I was in my early teens, I used to make these lists about what my perfect man and my perfect life would have in it: the needs and the wants, and the red-flags. I perfected that list. I had requirements. Then my life changed: when I became pregnant, when I was stuck in an abusive relationship, and then when I finally met a nice guy and I wasn't good enough for him. My list had to change as I did. The main feature for my man is now kindness, like please, I just want him to be nice to me. And I didn't want to go home crying and bruised anymore. I need children desperately, so I knew I needed to find someone who at least wanted to have sweet babies with me. So many stupid little things got blown away when I realized the important things. I'm still struggling with God right now--we aren't on speaking terms, but I know that one day, we will be. When that day comes, I want the man beside me to participate in our prayers, and in our gratitude for the blessings we've been given. I've been scoffed at and judged too often for believing in a God, believing in miracles, believing in other things besides the worldly possessions and greed everyone else seems to be obsessed with. I can no longer tolerate being belittled for believing, and for the feeling the way I feel. Life is about change, and learning and growing, and standing back up when people keep knocking us down. This will happen, guaranteed, so don't help God / Life / Karma do its thing because it's already doing enough.

And I'm tired of being jealous of every one else's happiness! I want my own, and I know it'll look different than theirs, but goodness, throw me a bone every once in a while. Pregnant women are everywhere, happy couples are everywhere, happiness is everywhere. And now that I finally have a piece of that, I want to run away and treasure them before they're taken from me. And I want to preserve my heart from being broken. I don't want to let him in and tell him everything because what if I do and I'm not good enough? I don't want to want things, because I don't think I can handle being denied and disappointed again and again.

He's my favorite person ever, besides my sweet baby Ben of course. 

Camping & My First Blind Date

I am seriously so lucky to have my friends! I have two amazing best friends, and their boyfriends love me too. It makes being a third wheel always so enjoyable.

This past week, I was able to go camping with best friend Rachel and her boyfriend Cameron (who I've known since high school.) He found a great spot out in Carnation for us to spend our 3 days - 2 nights near the Tolt and Snoqualmie rivers. 

It was so fun getting away from it all, even though we didn't fully disconnect. Being out in nature is such an amazing reset button. We had all day to talk about anything besides work! Weird fact about me: I LOVE climbing trees. So Rachel always held my camera while I messed around. 

And then comes the blind date. My other best friend Shaleena has been pretty adamant about me leaving my ex in the dust. She went on a walk with me a couple weeks ago and was telling me about how much it sucks watching me constantly be in pain for something he had done, and yet I still was choosing to be around him, that I wasn't respecting myself enough to get out and be out. Same speech I've heard from everyone, but it was so heart-wrenching seeing how much it stressed her out that I wouldn't help myself. She ended up talking with her boyfriend (my coworker) about it, and he decided to set me up with one of his friends on a blind date. And it was incredible. I haven't had that much fun EVER. Dinner + drinks + bowling with the three of them was such perfection. And the guy was just the nicest person ever. 

But then... Remember from my last post that God/Karma/Life always has to come in to make sure you're not happy. Shaleena and I had to pee like 3 different times at the bowling alley, and one of the times, there was a sweet Mexican baby getting changed. As I was waiting, I was just admiring this sweet baby and listening to his mother speak to him in Spanish.  And then I couldn't handle it anymore; I had to get out of there. Shaleena came rushing out after me and I just stood there and cried for a good 5 minutes while she hugged me. There is a trigger every day that just hits me a little too hard to hold in. It felt so good to have a shoulder to cry on though, someone who doesn't make me apologize for feeling what I feel, someone who validates my emotions, but then also helps me pull it together and keep living in the now instead of the constant "what ifs?" that will never be answered.

I miss my sweet mexi-baby so much. It is agonizing. I want to see him so bad, but it has only been a month so I can't ask. And anyway, I want to hold him how I remember him, as a fresh newborn. 

I've been having such horrible nightmares about losing Ben. And I want them to stop and they just don't. So I tried melatonin so I wouldn't have time to think about horrible things before I went to sleep and nothing works. 

In better news though, I got professional pictures of me done by Poppi Photography. SHE IS SO AMAZING. I know I'm not ugly or anything, but she made me feel and look so stunning in every shot. And she's so kind and knowledgeable. Basically, that session was a small piece of heaven. 

By Poppi Photography

By Poppi Photography

By Poppi Photography

God / Karma / Life

I have an opinion, a strong one, about God, or karma, or maybe it's just life throwing buckets of lemons (although I like lemons, so lets make it alcohol, because that needs to get mixed with your lemonade to be good.) Any time, any day, any particular second where I think in my head, "I might actually be happy with where I am in my life," God/karma/life answers quite promptly with several new lemons.

I love my baby. He is mine. He is hers. We are his mothers. Our motherhood is very different. But together, we are motherhood. I will never say that I'm his real mom, or that she is his real mom. We are both very real. When I get to see Ben, I have absolutely no intention to ever go to him and say that I'm his mother, too. That is something that he will grow to understand as he learns more about what adoption is, and how he fits in to the puzzle. That will be taught by Ann and Derek however and whenever they decide.

Then comes my lovely father's opinion. According to him, I should stop seeing my child: because it's confusing, because it's unnecessary, because I need to move on.
The other day, he had reconnected with an old friend on Facebook and they were catching up, asking questions about if we were still a part of the church (to which he replied "mostly solid" lol) and then he asked my dad how many grandchildren he had.... "a 5 year old and my next daughter just had her first in March." That almost sounds like his daughters have collectively only had two children. Funny. Because I totally remember getting pregnant, being very pregnant for like a perfect 40 weeks, having a natural delivery, getting stitches and everything. I mean I even got to breastfeed a couple times. This is a baby that has half of my genetic code. But I guess all those experiences don't count as having a child, at least one that's not in any way related to him. Weird. I must have skipped that part of biology. Cool.

This all came at a time where I was feeling good about life; I had literally just seen my sweet baby. And the second I thought about how good I was feeling, God/karma/life wanted to make sure I remembered that Ben doesn't exist in this family, he doesn't even have a name (besides a derogatory "big-head") in this family. And he can't be talked about in this family without divulging his illegitimacy and placement with his "real parents who actually love him." I fought with the rest of my family about their lack of love and support, and naturally, they all defended themselves.

Personally, if you love someone, truly, then don't EVER suggest that they give up their baby. You fight for them to have what they want, and if they want to have this baby, then fight on their side to make it simple and joyful and full of love.
Don't make them a statistic: "did you know that a gazillion% of teenage mothers end up screwing up their lives if the keep their kid?", or "did you know that it's statistically proven that your child will be totally effed up if you keep it because he won't have a father and you're a horrible excuse for a mother?" I'm not making this up you guys, I was told these things to my face several times.

My family says they were supportive of the decision I made (adoption.) I guess they forgot about the times where I was lying on the ground in fetal position begging them to let me keep my baby. And also that time when I was in the hospital weeping over my sweet baby's head begging everyone that could hear me to let me keep my baby. If that isn't my obvious desires, I must not have been crying and hyperventilating enough.

"Baby mine, you are so precious to me; cute as can be."

My Blue-Headed Baby

I'm so obsessed with my baby!

The other day at work, I got the best of surprises! AnnMarie texted me asking to meet halfway for a lunch in the park (because we always do that, and it's always amazing.)

So, yesterday, me and my best friend Rachel drove to Ellensburg. We were a little early, so I had to stop myself several times from looking for their car. Twenty minutes later, I see my blue headed baby bouncing through the parking lot towards me! We got our sandwiches, then drove to the park where we played, talked and took pictures for four hours. And it was perfect. Ben LOVES his dad, so he didn't really want to hangout with me. He did like my camera though, so he sat on my lap and played with all the buttons. Rachel even got to walk around and have one on one time with him. Ben makes everyone happy instantly and he has the biggest smile. They just lost their dog to cancer, so when Ben saw one in the park, he went and held the sweet puppies face just like he used to do with Andy.

You guys, adoption is so special. I wish Ben liked me more, but I'm hoping that will come with age. But his parents are unimaginably perfect. I know I chose them after I read about them and met with them, but I am SO lucky to have them, for Ben to have them. While we were at the park, we saw a perfect example at horrible parenting. The mom was yelling at her kids and being so aggressive. I almost wanted to protect her baby from her. But Ann & Derek? They are everything good. Especially Derek, he shares his cookies with me!

Also, he gets his helmet off at 18 months, which is only 5.5 weeks away!

And this is our sweet little family. I love them with all my heart.

Let Me Grieve

A long and arduous journey towards continuing existence, and hopefully, a better existence.

Denial.
I remember waking up every morning, my eyes swollen shut from crying the night previous, but for a few seconds of confusion, I couldn't remember what my life had become. It's like the first night I woke up in Logan, I looked around and couldn't figure out where I was or how I got there. That was my life now. I woke up, forgetting all the pain. I remember brief moments where I couldn't even remember being pregnant; maybe it isn't real, maybe this is just a horrible dream--until I couldn't because the stitches, the backache, the paleness of my face from blood loss. This couldn't have happened. I would never let anyone touch my baby and make me give him away. There's no way I would walk away from him. Why did I walk away? What is wrong with me? I want him back. Surely, I can get him back. Right? Please? I don't want to do this. I promise I'll give him the world. I just want my baby.

Anger.
Why did this happen? Why was Andrew so freaking selfish? I wish I didn't love Ann & Derek so much. Why. are. they. so. perfect. Why does God hate me? I hate all these stupid, happy, pregnant women. I hate all the sympathetic looks; if you want me to feel better, then give me back my baby. If I see one more pregnant teenager, I will punch someone in the face. Wait, she had an abortion?! What is wrong with her?! Why is everyone so ignorant and uneducated? I hate everyone. I hate this world. I hate my life. I really hate God. Why am I still alive? I can't figure out how I'm still living through this. All I feel is pain.

Apathy & Emptiness.
I feel nothing. I have no purpose. Why even continue when everything I'm putting off for everyone is a lie. Let me sleep, because then I can forget. Well, I'll have endless nightmares, but even they are better than reality. Where is my baby. He's growing so much, I don't even know him anymore. I'm a worthless piece of nobody.

Accountability.
I may have gotten pregnant in high school, I could have been a teen mom, maybe I should have made better choices, maybe I should have seen it coming. Whatever. I know who I am. No one else knows the whole story. They'll be judging me based on a mixture of truth, gossip, my lies, their lies, ignorance and assumptions. I know who I am. I know what happened. I love my boyfriend. I knew pregnancy was a possibility, but I thought we were being careful enough (after all, it's not like I could ask for birth control because I'm fucking Mormon. I'll rant about this in a later post probably.) I stayed healthy for my child throughout my pregnancy. He was my priority. I continued to Utah State University for more education, paying my way through it, then paying off my loans quickly. I came home when my health and the baby's health were in question. I chose parents for him. I researched them, I met them, I loved them. They are better parents than so many that I know. I had a baby, without a working epidural, and I placed him in a different car than my own 27 hours later. I did that. I did all of that. By myself. I know who I am. I know what I did. I am still standing.

Reformation.
I refuse to be who they think I should be. I refuse to walk like, talk like, act like them. I will be me. I will love my boyfriend despite what other's think. I will work, to pay off loans and save for my future. I will not go to church and pretend like I agree. I will be a photographer. I will work my butt off and I will be me. I will be a mother, a birth mother, a lover, and a fighter. I will burn bridges cruelly with those people who are worthless in my life.

Forgiveness.
I will forgive Andrew for not taking responsibility. I will forgive myself for making the decision to break my own heart. I will forget the people who said they would be here for me when they were endlessly against me.

Hope & Reclamation.
I will be in love and hope to be loved by Andrew. I will love my son with all my heart, hoping one day he will love me too. I hope I will see him and his family often. I hope they will never shut me out of our open adoption. I will return to a former, but better state. I will be positive for the future as I have been for the past two years. I will defy the odds and the bonds of statistics. I am not just one of the three in ten American teenage girls to get pregnant before they turn 20. I am more than just one of the 52% of pregnancies that were unintended. I am of the 2% that chose adoption for my son. I have grown to be so much more than a statistic, and so much more of a woman than others my age (even the married ones) who will never understand, and can never fathom what I have gone through.

There is so much I wish I could explain about my life, the paths that I've landed on (by my choice or as a result of other's choices) and how I got to be here, standing taller than ever. But then I would feel like I have to make you understand, like I have to prove to you that I'm not just a statistic. I am more than I have ever been. I did not choose everything that has happened, but I took it and handled it the best I could. I'm stronger in some ways, and weaker in others. I'm not whole; I don't think I ever will be. I am who I am. I will always defend my actions, and his actions and our choices. If you hate me, leave. I am not afraid to let you go. I'm tired of lies and misunderstandings and gossip and faking it.

I might even be happy. I love my job (yay to a promotion!) I love my boyfriend, I love my baby and his family. Love will win.

Beautiful Benjamin

Today, I got to see my baby! It's been 4 months since they came here. I wanted to do this trip by myself, to have all my focus and attention on Ben and not have to deal with anyone else but our little adoption family. HE IS SO BEAUTIFUL YOU GUYS. And as much as he looks just like the pictures, the real deal is so much better. He has my raspy voice, taste for sour lemons and big brown eyes and skin tone. But oh my goodness does he look like Andrew. Genetics are amazing and babies are miracles.

One of the last things Andrew said to me was to not go see Ben without him; I just couldn't do that because he's my baby and I didn't want to sit there convincing him to interact with the baby instead of just staring at him like he always does. As I was playing with Ben and watching him walk around at the park, I had a little glimpse in my mind of what it could've been: Andrew and I holding each other, watching our son proudly, and kissing him until he was laughing super hard. And in that moment, I was so glad I was there alone so that I didn't go running back to our toxic relationship.

When we first arrived after a short trip to the Columbia River Temple, Ben was just waking up and wouldn't come to me (stranger danger.) I was pleasantly surprised that it didn't hurt. I think I've been walking around on eggshells to protect myself, but I think I'm the one making it worse by conjuring up feelings that don't need to exist. There are still really bad days where I hate the world, and everyone but my baby. As they pass, though, and I can really look at it in the broad spectrum of things, I see not only a beautiful baby, but a beautiful family that I helped create.

All in all, it was a beautiful day filled with love, good food and great conversation. I had the chance to talk to Ann about some adoption things, to get her side of the story, and other topics that have actual depth. I have so many things to say, but adoption is one of those things that I want to discuss with people who have lived it; I thrive when there is true empathy, when people actually understand because they are in the same boat as me. She said something that really healed me, "I don't think I could love Ben any more than I do now if he was my biological son. I don't even desire to be pregnant because he is everything I could've wanted." Can you be more perfect, Ann? Benjamin really is their son, you can see and feel the love they all have for each other from a mile away, or in my case from 200 miles away. As I observe their little family, I see them as a normal, happy family that I dream of having one day. How can I be angry at the world if this family exists?

I have the best adoptive parents ever.

P.S. the blue helmet he wears is to correct a flat spot on his head due to torticollis. He wears it everyday, and is allowed to have it off for about an hour each day. He's so happy, and doesn't mind it at all.