351 Days Later...

       I am so depressed.

       The other day, I walked around buying clothes for my new niece. Simple, right? Baby clothes are adorable. And usually I can handle it—if I don’t look at any of the boy clothes.

       But this day was unbearable. I made the mistake of going to Babies-R-Us. There were pregnant women everywhere. There was way too much happiness everywhere. There were husbands supporting their pregnant wives.

       I started looking around, thinking about how cute Ben would look it this or that. I found things that I used during my pregnancy or the couple weeks after.

       Guys, he’s going to be a year old in two weeks. How can that be? How can the world have kept turning for an entire year?

       Ann sent me some pictures and a video the other week, and I couldn’t even be happy.

       So I read something the other night about a woman's story of her stillborn daughter. Yes, I understand that Ben is still alive, but I feel every single word that she says, excluding the support. She said one thing that really grabbed at my heart, "getting ready to deliver but not wanting to because all you want is to have your baby a little longer." When I realized I was in labor, I cried and cried because I knew that my allotted amount of time was up, that they would take him from me the second they could; and they did.

       How can I even be happy anymore? I miss my baby so much. I feel like screaming every second of every day. Even I don’t understand the amount of pain I’m feeling. I don’t understand how I’m still surviving.

       Nothing makes sense anymore. I can't handle the pain, the pity. I've become so bitter about everyone else's woes. 

       I don’t really want this particular life. 

A "Blob of Tissue"

       I read an amazing article tonight about Abortion. This topic has touched me before I faced my own unplanned pregnancy; but especially now after choosing life and love for Benjamin, it angers me that girls and women still choose abortion. There are worthy women out there who's only desires are to have children, who are waiting to adopt and yet sweet babies are being deleted from the equation. I loved pregnancy, and oh my goodness do I love my sweet baby. I would do the adoption process all over again because it is truly a miracle. 

       Honestly, I was pressured into an abortion. He refused to even look at me for a while. He kept telling me it was early enough, no one would know. I kept thinking, maybe if I just did it, he won't hate me anymore. But then I stood up for myself, for what I wanted, if only for a little. In the end, I was pressured into adoption, but at least I got to grow my little baby, my sweet beautiful baby.

Excerpts from "When Abortion Suddenly Stopped Making Sense" by Frederica Matthews-Green

       ""But, at the time, we didn’t have much understanding of what abortion was. We knew nothing of fetal development. We consistently termed the fetus “a blob of tissue,” and that’s just how we pictured it — an undifferentiated mucous-like blob, not recognizable as human or even as alive. It would be another 15 years of so before pregnant couples could show off sonograms of their unborn babies, shocking us with the obvious humanity of the unborn.

       We also thought, back then, that few abortions would ever be done. It’s a grim experience, going through an abortion, and we assumed a woman would choose one only as a last resort. We were fighting for that “last resort.” We had no idea how common the procedure would become; today, one in every five pregnancies ends in abortion. Nor could we have imagined how high abortion numbers would climb. In the 43 years since Roe v. Wade, there have been 59 million abortions. It’s hard even to grasp a number that big. Twenty years ago, someone told me that, if the names of all those lost babies were inscribed on a wall, like the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, the wall would have to stretch for 50 miles. It’s 20 years later now, and that wall would have to stretch twice as far. But no names could be written on it; those babies had no names.

       We expected that abortion would be rare. What we didn’t realize was that, once abortion becomes available, it becomes the most attractive option for everyone around the pregnant woman. If she has an abortion, it’s like the pregnancy never existed. No one is inconvenienced. It doesn’t cause trouble for the father of the baby, or her boss, or the person in charge of her college scholarship. It won’t embarrass her mom and dad. Abortion is like a funnel; it promises to solve all the problems at once. So there is significant pressure on a woman to choose abortion, rather than adoption or parenting.

       A woman who had had an abortion told me, “Everyone around me was saying they would ‘be there for me’ if I had the abortion, but no one said they’d ‘be there for me’ if I had the baby.” For everyone around the pregnant woman, abortion looks like the sensible choice. A woman who determines instead to continue an unplanned pregnancy looks like she’s being foolishly stubborn. It’s like she’s taken up some unreasonable hobby. People think: If she would only go off and do this one thing, everything would be fine. But that’s an illusion. Abortion can’t really turn back the clock. It can’t push the rewind button on life and make it so that she was never pregnant. It can make it easy for everyone around the woman to forget the pregnancy, but the woman herself may struggle. When she first sees the positive pregnancy test she may feel, in a panicky way, that she has to get rid of it as fast as possible. But life stretches on after abortion, for months and years — for many long nights — and all her life long she may ponder the irreversible choice she made.

       It’s supposed to be “her choice,” yet so many women say, “I really didn’t have a choice.” I changed my opinion on abortion after I read an article in Esquire magazine, way back in 1976. I was home from grad school, flipping through my dad’s copy, and came across an article titled “What I Saw at the Abortion.” The author, Richard Selzer, was a surgeon, and he was in favor of abortion, but he’d never seen one. So he asked a colleague whether, next time, he could go along. Selzer described seeing the patient, 19 weeks pregnant, lying on her back on the table. (That is unusually late; most abortions are done by the tenth or twelfth week.) The doctor performing the procedure inserted a syringe into the woman’s abdomen and injected her womb with a prostaglandin solution, which would bring on contractions and cause a miscarriage. (This method isn’t used anymore, because too often the baby survived the procedure — chemically burned and disfigured, but clinging to life. Newer methods, including those called “partial birth abortion” and “dismemberment abortion,” more reliably ensure death.)

       After injecting the hormone into the patient’s womb, the doctor left the syringe standing upright on her belly. Then, Selzer wrote, “I see something other than what I expected here. . . . It is the hub of the needle that is in the woman’s belly that has jerked. First to one side. Then to the other side. Once more it wobbles, is tugged, like a fishing line nibbled by a sunfish.” He realized he was seeing the fetus’s desperate fight for life. And as he watched, he saw the movement of the syringe slow down and then stop. The child was dead. Whatever else an unborn child does not have, he has one thing: a will to live. He will fight to defend his life. The last words in Selzer’s essay are, “Whatever else is said in abortion’s defense, the vision of that other defense [i.e., of the child defending its life] will not vanish from my eyes. And it has happened that you cannot reason with me now. For what can language do against the truth of what I saw?” The truth of what he saw disturbed me deeply. There I was, anti-war, anti–capital punishment, even vegetarian, and a firm believer that social justice cannot be won at the cost of violence. Well, this sure looked like violence. How had I agreed to make this hideous act the centerpiece of my feminism? How could I think it was wrong to execute homicidal criminals, wrong to shoot enemies in wartime, but all right to kill our own sons and daughters?

       It’s said that “Nobody knows when life begins.” But that’s not true; everybody knows when life — a new individual human life — gets started. It’s when the sperm dissolves in the egg. That new single cell has a brand-new DNA, never before seen in the world. If you examined through a microscope three cells lined up — the newly fertilized ovum, a cell from the father, and a cell from the mother — you would say that, judging from the DNA, the cells came from three different people. When people say the unborn is “not a person” or “not a life” they mean that it has not yet grown or gained abilities that arrive later in life. But there’s no agreement about which abilities should be determinative. Pro-choice people don’t even agree with each other. Obviously, law cannot be based on such subjective criteria. If it’s a case where the question is “Can I kill this?” the answer must be based on objective medical and scientific data. And the fact is, an unborn child, from the very first moment, is a new human individual. It has the three essential characteristics that make it “a human life”: It’s alive and growing, it is composed entirely of human cells, and it has unique DNA. It’s a person, just like the rest of us.

       Abortion indisputably ends a human life. “No one wants an abortion as she wants an ice cream cone or a Porsche. She wants an abortion as an animal, caught in a trap, wants to gnaw off its own leg.” Abortion is a horrible and harrowing experience. That women choose it so frequently shows how much worse continuing a pregnancy can be. Essentially, we’ve agreed to surgically alter women so that they can get along in a man’s world. And then expect them to be grateful for it. Nobody wants to have an abortion. And if nobody wants to have an abortion, why are women doing it, 2,800 times a day? If women doing something 2,800 times daily that they don’t want to do, this is not liberation we’ve won. We are colluding in a strange new form of oppression.

       In time, it’s going to be impossible to deny that abortion is violence against children. Future generations, as they look back, are not necessarily going to go easy on ours. Our bland acceptance of abortion is not going to look like an understandable goof. In fact, the kind of hatred that people now level at Nazis and slave-owners may well fall upon our era. Future generations can accurately say, “It’s not like they didn’t know.” They can say, “After all, they had sonograms.” They may consider this bloodshed to be a form of genocide. They might judge our generation to be monsters. One day, the tide is going to turn. With that Supreme Court decision 43 years ago, one of the sides in the abortion debate won the day. But sooner or later, that day will end. No generation can rule from the grave. The time is coming when a younger generation will sit in judgment of ours. And they are not obligated to be kind.""

Read the full article here.

Ben = Best Gift Ever

     

I have the greatest adoptive-parents ever. This weekend, they ventured 200 miles over the snowy pass to visit me! Benjamin is so gosh darn beautiful. He's almost 10 months old now. He, crawls, walks if you hold his fingers, has 5 teeth for now, smiles at the camera, loves looking at himself in pictures, videos and mirrors; and he waves at me when he's drinking his bottle. 

       I was determined to get through this visit with all smiles, but it is impossible when dealing with Ben's birthfather. We went to dinner the first night where Ben managed to spill an entire cup of ice cold water on his parents. He's so curious about all the lights, and sounds; I could just sit there and watch him exist and it would be the best day ever. 

       Ben got to meet his birth-grandparents too (if that's even a thing.) We all just sat around him all day and played with him and loved him. 

       Ann and Derek also brought us presents, which just proves how perfect they are. Background: While we were placing Ben, Ann brought me a bag of soaps and lotions that are lilac scented; my favorite scent. I looked back through all our emails to figure out when she figured that out. Turns out it was a super tiny detail in one of my longest messages telling her about myself. Present: Ann bought me a book for Christmas; yes, I already opened it. But it wasn't just any random book. It's Humans of New York by Brandon Stanton. It's photography in such a raw, imperfect form. It's stories and quotes that make me feel a whole range of emotions. It's perfect. It's something I almost bought for myself.

       I love this season of giving. It shows what people think of you. She knows how much I love photography, and she also sees that I share or like most of HONY's posts. I read the whole thing last night! I totally recommend it to anyone. But you know what's even better? The sacrifice of long drives, hotel stays, all just to let me love my sweet baby for a day. 

Knit Together by Adoption: Part 2

When it was too much: Ok, it was too much the entire process. Too much when he told me to consider not keeping my child, too much when I met my couple by myself, too much when I kept seeing them over long, conversation filled dinners while still pregnant, way too much when we placed Ben in the hospital room, and for the next few months after. It was too much to love them so immensely to the point that I was willing to give them my child.

When it was all worth it: I think I finally realized how much of a treasure adoption was for Ben when I saw him light up to his dad coming home from work. Pure. Joy. He loves his dad so much.

Lyrics that move you and why: The first song I think of is "Baby Mine" from the movie Dumbo. I sang this song to Ben a few times each day during my pregnancy. “Baby mine, don't you cry. Baby mine, dry your eyes. Rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine. From your head to your toes, you’re so sweet, goodness knows. You are so precious to me, cute as can be, baby of mine.”
And from Tarzan: “This bond between us can't be broken, I will be here. From this day on, now and forever more, you'll be in my heart, no matter what they say; you'll be here in my heart, always. Why can't they understand the way we feel? They just don't trust what they can't explain. I know we're different but deep inside us, we're not that different at all. They'll see in time, I know. When destiny calls you, you must be strong. I may not be with you, but you've got to hold on.”

   Question 1: What do you want your child to know about you? I want him to know how deeply I love him. The moment they put him in my arms, I finally understood a mother’s love. I want Ben to know how much I wanted him from the moment he came to be, and continue to want him every day. He has changed every aspect of my life.

   Question 2: Once you made your decision, what obstacles did you face? I decided on adoption in July, so 7 months of pregnancy awaited me still. It’s one thing to be 5 weeks pregnant, but it’s a whole different ball game when your 35 weeks. There is such a special bond fused between mother and child during pregnancy, but it develops slowly. When I started the adoption process, it wasn’t too difficult to be like “Hey, I’m Becca and I want to start the adoption process.” But then I saw him on a sonogram, and I felt him kick. It was agonizing going to see the couple who would be taking my baby to be their son. I had to face them, and face my promise to them no matter how much it hurt every single day. At one point, I convinced myself that I would keep my baby because I could do it, I could be as good a mother to my son just like the adoptive mom could be. And then everyone was against me. Everyone was telling me to think of the adoptive couple, how they feel, how much they’ve already invested in me and the sweet baby I was carrying. I knew all that, I really wanted to give them a baby; I just wish it wasn’t mine. I love them, but I love my baby. Another obstacle I faced is validation. Seems a little weird, I know, but I went through an identity crisis. Was I a mother? No, I’m just a birthmother. But I did give birth to him so that makes me a mother. But I’m not raising him so that makes her a mother. But I carried him for 9 months, I took care of him, I fed him, I loved him. No, I’m just a screw up teenage girl who got herself pregnant and has to pay the consequences. But maybe I’m different because I chose adoption. But that’s still only because I got pregnant. So what am I? A broken hearted, stupid teenage girl. Perfect.

Question 3: Is it strange knowing someone else will raise your child? This is a pretty complicated question. Yes: It’s strange because he is part of me, I made him. Everything in my mind and body tells me to love him, and nurture him. It’s a natural instinct. It lasts for the rest of your life. Now imagine feeling this way for nine months and then telling it to shut off forever. Yeah, it’s not going to happen. It is strange missing memories that could've been made, missing milestones I should've experienced with him. No: I’ve come to realize that I really can only miss the form of him I knew; my pregnant belly. I miss the kicks, and the rib jabs and the beautiful anticipation of what was to come. I miss the struggle of knowing he would leave me as I soon as I finally had him, when I worked my body to do more than it's ever done before. I miss the music I would play for him just to feel him move. Mostly, I miss talking to him in the hopes he would remember my voice and love me one day. I miss his sweet little face, fresh into this world, feeding from me and getting the hiccups. I miss our 4am feeding where it was just the two of us staring at each other for hours while the rest of the world was quiet. That’s really all I know. When I go to see him now, he’s their baby. I still love him, and crave him. But I don’t know this version of him. He belongs with them; he’s their son.

Question 4: How involved do you want to be in your baby's life as he gets older? I want to be his best friend, and a part of his family. I would love to go on family trips with them and be able to take him out for play dates. I’ve been trying to relate it to how I get to be with my niece during the summers; getting a few hours to go to the park, taking her for ice cream, going to Arizona with her. I kind of want that with him. I want him to know me, not just know of me. Being realistic, I won’t get more than a few hours a few times a year to hang out at his house. But I’ll take anything I can get. It’s not just my son’s life I want to be involved him, but his whole family. I love his parents. Although our relationship is not a typical friendship, it’s strong and full of love. I am deeply grateful for them, as they are for me. I want them to be my friends, not just a respectful relationship because of adoption. I love visiting with them as much as visiting with Ben. 

Knit Together by Adoption

November is National Adoption Awareness Month! Despite the fact that many people are affected by adoption in some way, people don't really talk about it, or understand it. I wanted to make a post with some more facts on adoption, and maybe answer some questions. #knittogetherbyadoption has a daily prompt which I used as a base to my post. This is part 1 of 2. Follow along with other's stories on Instagram using the hashtag. The goal is awareness.

Fact: One of the saddest facts about this fallen world is that delivering a baby costs an average of $3,500 (not including prenatal visits,) an adoption can cost up to $50,000; an abortion is only $350.

   

      Introduction: I became pregnant in my senior year of high school; my boyfriend didn’t want to have a baby and I am against abortion. I chose my couple after looking on the LDS adoption website. I decided I would be just a birthmother before my first trimester even ended.

      Your thoughts before on adoption: I knew only one birthmother and had read her story when I was about 16 thinking “Oh, that’s kind of sad.” To me, adoption wasn’t really an option; if you get pregnant, you become a parent, right? Obviously you would keep your baby and get married and live happily ever after, right?

   

      Your thoughts after on adoption: Adoption can be the best option! Being a single, poor, uneducated mother, versus killing your baby, versus creating a beautiful baby to give to an amazing, deserving couple. Being a birthmother is agonizing. Being a hopeful adopter is agonizing. Watching girls take their babies for granted is infuriating. Reading adoption stories or hopeful adoptive couple’s stories is heart-wrenching. But adoption is beautiful.

          How we met: I met my adoptive couple at the end of August, 2014. They drove down to Logan, Utah to have dinner with me. I wasn’t even showing yet. We talked and ate for about two hours, asking a lot of questions about my life and pregnancy and their side of the adoption. It was amazing, and there was surprisingly no pressure. I felt like they were already a major part of my life, and I was so glad that the connection we had made through emails became even stronger.

      What makes you smile: Ben! His mom sends me pictures of him being adorable and it is so wonderful. I love getting surprised by cute texts of love every other week or so. Whether he’s crying or laughing, it’s adorable. Visiting him is the most exciting thing ever. He’s so chubby and beautiful. His parents are the best and their dog loves Ben.

      Boundaries between the triad: Honestly, we have such an easy, open communication that there aren’t really boundaries. On my side, I try not to ask to see him so often, or ask for pictures. I like to keep it away from them how much the separation hurts me. There is no contract to follow, it’s based on mutual trust.

      Miracle: It’s a miracle that there is a couple in the same state as me that speaks Spanish, plays the piano, and has a dog with the same name as your boyfriend.

       Messy Inside: I think this can be summarized with one quote; “You will feel better than this, maybe not yet, but you will. You just keep living until you are alive again.” –Call the Midwife

Courage

noun: The ability to do something that frightens one; strength in the face of pain or grief

       A girl at work recently discovered she was pregnant. She's only a year older than me. She has two jobs that cause her to have 12 hour days in order to support herself. Her ex-boyfriend broke up with her even before they knew she was pregnant, but is staying out even now. Needless to say, having a baby and thereby becoming a single mom isn't really a good thing for her right now. I took it upon myself to tell her about my story, saying that I too would rather be a single mom over not having my child. I told her about my adoption plan, how happy and healthy Ben is with his parents. As much as I wouldn't wish adoption on anyone, there comes a time where you have to "put the needs of your baby ahead of the wants of your heart." I asked her if she would even consider it; no.

       This brings me to courage. Women talk about being terrified to have a child due to: pregnancy symptoms, labor pain, lack of money, etc... Because of the trauma I was putting myself through with adoption, I didn't have time to worry about all that stuff. I was losing my son; that's all that was ever on my mind. It is courageous to be a mother; having a baby is amazing, but it isn't easy. It is courageous to be a mom; to put your child's wants and needs and life ahead of most of yours. But there is a different kind of strength needed to give it all up for your baby, for your adoptive parents. It took so much courage to go through with the adoption. When we called in Ben's parents to do the actual placement, I stood there and cried for 10 minutes, clinging to my beautiful child, wishing, praying and pleading to whoever that would listen that I could keep my sweet baby. I begged Andrew to change his mind, to let me take Ben home. It took courage to put Ben into his car seat, and put him in his parents' car and then just walk away, empty handed and with an empty womb.

       It still hurts and I continue to cry almost daily. So how can I look at my co-worker and tell her to choose adoption, when the path she's choosing is the one I wanted to take? How can I ask her to have courage and consider breaking her own heart when I can't put mine back together eight months later? How can I calm her fears and doubts about adoption if they are my fears too? Maybe I'm not as courageous as I look. The more I look at myself, the more I can see the facade I put on to hide the fact that I'm falling apart. Once a woman becomes pregnant, everything changes. Once a woman gives birth to a baby her body created, everything changes. She gives her heart to her baby, her life, her love. That's how it's supposed to be. Ben has my heart 200 miles away. I love him so much it hurts. Courage; more like fake it until you're alone, then you can cry.

Ben, Jen and some Cacti

       I just want to start out by saying that my baby is so cute. Obvious, but true.

       I had the WONDERFUL opportunity of driving 24 hours to Arizona earlier this month. Honestly, I could've taken an airplane, but I leave that for the sane people to do. But don't worry--it all worked out. My boss was kind enough to not deny my request to have 5 days off of work, so five hours before we set off, I scrambled to pack up all my stuff.

       Day one: six a.m. is really early. But guess who I got to see 3 1/2 hours later... MY BABY!!! Oh my goodness, I freaking love that kid. His mom, Ann, was so kind to let us make our first pit stop at her home. So my dad and I walked in and there, sitting up on the floor with 10 toys around him, was beautiful Ben. Even thought it was only for forty minutes, it was so amazing to sit around with Ann, Derek and of course, baby. We watched him roll around and heard him laugh every time the dog barked.
       The best thing I saw was Ben's reaction when Derek came home. One of the benefits of choosing adoption was that Ben would have a father, a dad who loved and cared for him. So when Derek came home from work to visit with us, Ben's face lit up and he started flailing his little arms and legs, and cooing until Derek came and tackled/kissed him. My heart was SO full. I looked at Derek and said, "Wow. He really, really loves you." Like, what more could I ask for.
       He's seven months old now, so I brought him some baby food as a gift. Seems like a little thing, but I like supporting them being Ben's parents for me; formula is a little too expensive, so in the past I've brought diapers, clothes, and now jarred food. Ann knows me so well, how I miss Ben the most right before and after I visit him, so the next day she sent me a picture of Ben eating the food I brought for him. I honestly couldn't have asked for better parents for my child. Oh, and one more thing; Derek was telling me how sometimes when he goes to the store with Ben, and people comment about how cute my baby is, they say that Ben looks just like Derek... and Derek just looks at them and says thanks. It's hilarious to me because Ben looks more and more like Andrew and me: my dark brown eyes, his smile, etc. That was one of the things I apologized for when I first met them in Logan a year ago (I did not think it has been that long) that I was sorry he wouldn't look like them. Luckily, Derek just lets it roll off.
     
 Driving my dad's old, wide and long Impala is terrifying. I think I drove for at least four hours the first day, and that was way too much. You know how passing trucks while going 75 mph on the freeway is scary? Imagine your car taking up the entire width of a lane, the big semi taking up the entire width of his lane, oh and it's windy. Let's just say that dad didn't like my driving.

       Day two: more driving. 11 more hours to be precise. At least this time it was more scenic, like Zion and Bryce Canyon scenic. So gorgeous to see it in person. From the road. From miles away. But still pretty. Anyone driving from SLC to PHX, I recommend highway 89. More scary driving from me later, we finally made it to Mesa around dinner time. Air conditioning is amazing. Getting sick from change of altitude and temperature--not so amazing.

       Day three-five: basically wedding planning day for the Jen! Not only am I the photographer of weddings (see www.photographyrebeccaann.blogspot.com ) I get to be the florist too! By some sheer luck, the only non potted orchids in the store were the perfect color for the wedding. Jen's old roommate, Becca, came down to Mesa to be a part of the wedding and us three had tons of fun over the two days. We found this AMAZING park to take their bridals at, which was mostly just a lot of laughing. Then we went at ate the juiciest burger I've ever had at Zinburger in Gilbert, and niece Evelyn was there! She was such fun over the weekend.
       Then, JEN GOT MARRIED! It was so beautiful, and her husband is the BEST. I've been so lucky with brother-in-laws. Nick is so wonderful to Jen, and to me and Ev.
        On Saturday, we went to the Mesa, Arizona temple. It is so much prettier in real life. Church is kind of an iffy thing for me right now, but I have a special place for temples in my heart; so much respect for what happens inside them, and they have such a beautiful design and architecture. ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ejf9a70qgl8 )

       I also want to add, I'm obsessed with cacti. The last time I was here, I couldn't find a good time to take a picture with one. But the temple had like a whole forest of cacti and I took some pretty pictures.