A blur

What follows is a rather big blur. I remember going home and my mom telling my dad. I remember him yelling and screaming, then not talking to me for about 8 months. I remember going to the OBGYN and them not telling me anything about the baby, because, obviously, I was a horrible person, at least that is how I felt. I had lots of tests and blood work done. Had to completely go cold turkey off all my meds, and somewhere in all this I had to come up with some sort of plan for this baby.

I knew that I was in no condition to parent, so adoption was my only answer. My mom was awesome during all of this. She had to take care of her baby, and I needed to do what was best for my baby. She never pushed me toward any decision, just supported what I wanted.

I had no clue about adoption. All I knew was what I saw in movies where they take the baby away and you never know what happens to it or where it goes. That really scared me, but I really didn't have a choice. I was not any kind of mother that this baby needed, and I wasn't going to have my mom and dad take care of my mistake.

I'm sure you are all thinking that I am now a horrible person calling the baby a mistake. Let me clarify. My situation was a mistake, my pregnancy was a mistake, most of my life was a mistake, but that little baby was not a mistake.

I didn't know what to do or who to talk to, so I grabbed the yellow pages and opened them up to adoption. Man, there are a lot of agencies. I had no idea. Well, we were Lutheran, so I called them first. No answer, and I had no idea what to say on an answering machine. Then I went back to the beginning and started at the A's. The first place I called said that they would get some information to me within a week. "I don't have that kind of time!" I hung up without talking to them any more, then I dialed the following number, and was saved.