Over the passing months we decided that the adoption would be an open one. As we lived in the same town, and knew a lot of the same people, we decided that our bond was unique, as was this adoption, and it should be treated as such. Our adoption would be a “learn as you go” of sorts. I would be sent letters and pictures, and we would continue our friendship even after the baby was born, through visits. Although I would not be “mom”, I would get to be involved in the baby’s life and the extent of that would be decided as we went.
As my relationship began to grow with Jill and Bob however, my relationship with this life inside me, did not. Up until the first time I felt a kick, I hardly felt as if I was even pregnant at all. I joked constantly and the first 6 months flew by, stressful, however I didn’t have to worry of much. See, since the baby was being placed for adoption, I didn’t have to fret over things “normal” parents do. I treated this pregnancy as a hotel stay. Something was here for a short while and soon, it would check out and I could go back to fitting in my stylish clothes, and life…would go back to normal.
Until I felt him move. After that the reality of what I had chosen came crashing into me like a tidal wave.
The reality that I wouldn’t be receiving any surprise baby shower. I wouldn’t get to paint my sons nursery, pick out tiny outfits for his homecoming, or count each and every finger and toe on his infant body. I, unlike most parents, would never see my child’s first steps, would never get to see him on his first day of school or kiss his delicate face when he had fallen. In fact…I wasn’t a mother at all. Around the time of these painful realizations I became completely and utterly depressed and often considering ending my life. For the constant pain I felt within my heart seemed almost too much to take. Then one night, I drove to a small church in the middle of nowhere and got out of my car, sat on the hood, and began singing while holding my ever moving belly. I looked up at the stars and sang as loudly as I could hoping that the louder I sang, the less hurt I would feel. This became my nightly ritual. Despite whatever I was doing, come dark, I would go to this church and sing. I would talk to my belly and decided to spend the time that I had with this child, bonding.
All too quickly this pregnancy became real and I wanted to spend as much time with this baby as I could.
Ashley Wilson 