September 26, 2012 § 5 Comments
This is what I wrote on May 21 in the questionnaire packet the adoption agency gave me, under “Additional Information.” I felt the need to list my official reasons.
I want to place my baby for adoption for many of the same reasons that I’m sure most people have. I’m not finished with college and I live on my own in a studio apartment on a minimal income from my part-time job. I’m not married. My boyfriend and I were together for 3 years and we loved each other very much, but we’re no longer together. I’m only 23 and am in no way stable enough or supported enough by anyone else to raise a child. I don’t have the time or money or, honestly, the desire to.
I winced at the last sentence. I hate myself.
Being in college is no reason. I could have kept going. Many of my classmates are mothers. Being poor and living on my own is no reason. I could have moved in with my parents, or possibly even have kept my apartment with their help. Being unmarried is no reason. I doubted my ability to be a single mother, but I would’ve surprised myself. Being 23 is no reason. It’s not too young. Time, money, stability–those could all have been achieved.
I feel most guilty about the reasons I had that I didn’t write about.
Not wanting to be a young single mother who is looked down upon. Fearing judgment by family, friends, society, and ultimately myself. Wanting to just make this nightmare go away and move on with my life. Fearing change and disruption. Feeling undeserving. Feeling irresponsible. Not wanting to struggle. Not wanting to lose my independence and freedom. Not wanting to deal with diapers, tantrums, and sleeplessness. Thinking I’d be able to handle my own grief, that it wouldn’t be so bad. Not knowing anything about babies or young kids. Being afraid of failing at parenting. Not wanting to commit to 18 years. Not wanting to deny myself future relationships with guys who wouldn’t want a girl with a child. Not wanting to deal with requesting child support from David, and the ensuing guilt of putting financial strain on him. Feeling reassured that the adoptive parents would cover my hospital bills and maternity leave. Being too proud to ask my parents for help. Not wanting to have kids, ever. Not wanting to have a child who reminds me of David and my broken heart. Thinking David would not want a baby with me. Believing he would never help out or be present in his son’s life. Wanting so desperately to do the right thing. Wanting to please everybody. Wanting to be told how strong and mature I am. Fearing people would think I was weak if I changed my mind or even questioned my adoption plan.
I make myself sick.