When I was in my 20th year I found out I was pregnant, again. At sixteen, I became pregnant through youthful inexperience. And had an abortion. At 19, I became pregnant, according to the docs, because my birth control was too low of a dose, who knows, but I suffered a miscarriage.
I have always and will always support a woman's right to make the choice that is right for her when an unexpected pregancy occurrs.
In my 20th year, I made the choice to have the child and place it for adoption.
It was different, knowing I would never see my child. I was fortunate to have insurance. Found a good OB/GYN. When he realized that I was firm in my decision to put the child up for adoption, he gave me the name of an attorney who specialized in placing the children of unwed mothers with families wanting to adopt. I took care of myself, working at my factory job until the day I went into labor.
My labor started early one morning, I called my doctor and a friend dropped me off at the hospital at 6:00 a.m. After many hours, my labor had not progressed and I was told that a c-section would be necessary. I was alone, no friends, no family (they were thousands of miles away). I trusted my doctor.
I was taken into the OR and they put me under. My next memory, which I still feel, was of a shovel digging into my abdomen. I tried to speak, to scream, but there was a tube in my throat. Finally, I moved my hand or maybe fluttered my eyes, I remember seeing the OR ceiling, and hearing my child cry. Then, I was under again.
My next memory was of the recovery room. I was told I had a healthy baby boy. Did I want to see him? No, I knew the pain of that memory would be too much. I was moved to a private room. I woke up to a nurse telling me I would have to put on the TEDS, a heavy nylon hose to prevent blood clots. The only problem was - long before the medical profession began to suffer the ill effects of latex, I was born with it. The allergies to nylon, elastic, any form of synthetic rubber would cause my skin to form huge welts that would then tranform into huge blisters filled with water. But I was alone, and they put the hose on, and gave me more drugs.
The next morning my legs were welted and raw. But through it all, I continued to believe I had done the right thing. I had given a child - I would never see - to a family I would never know and who could not have a biological child, I thought that was a pretty special gift.
During the time with my attorney and physician, the subject of religion was never discussed. But later that day, it was. A woman from the attorney's office came and asked me to sign the papers finalizing the adoption. I did not recieve anything from the adoption, my insurance even paid all the hospital bills. I signed the papers and then the woman proceeded to tell me that my difficult labor and c-section, and post-partum problems were because god was punishing me for having a child out of wedlock. I was being punished for trying to do what I felt was the right thing. I was stunned, then I started to scream until the nurses had to remove the woman from my room.
On the 27th anniversay of my son's birth, I would like to publically - for the first time - wish him a Happy Birthday, with decades more to follow. And I hope your life is devoid of the bigotry and hatered of the people that brought you and your parents together.