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It was around three in the morning on March 13,1991 and I was in a hospital gown sitting in the emergency room. I had gone in earlier not
knowing the difficult path which was to be presented to me later. I can barely remember the doctor's words or how he said it but I do remember
feeling suddenly desperate, scared and very young.  I was nineteen and I was just told I was to be a mom.  I remember my boyfriend, nineteen
and soon to be a dad in nine months, holding me while I cried and shuttered through the intense wave of emotions.  The next few days were a
blur, I only remember bits and pieces, mostly the thoughts...why me? Who can I turn too? My parents are going to kill me. But there was one
thing I knew from the start even though I had dark moments and forgot that thought, but I knew I was going to place this child up for adoption.
In my heart I knew that was going to be the best thing for both of us.  And as the months went by things in my life started to change.  My family
supported me as best they could but my mother thought it would be in the best interest in the family that no one outside of my immediate family
would know I was pregnant. She believed that it was no one else's business what troubles we were going through. My relationship with my
boyfriend deteriorated and finally ended. I almost got to the point where I didn't know what to do or who I could turn to to talk and confide in.
But I still held onto the idea I was placing this child for adoption. I made the decision early on in my pregnancy to one, get health care and two,
get counseling.  I went through an agency for my adoption. The same agency I was adopted from. I felt comfortable there knowing that this is
where my birthmother came and faced the same decision I was now facing.  I learned a lot about myself in those eight months of pregnancy.  I
learned how to be strong and lean on myself as well as others in my time of need.  In my seventh month of pregnancy I moved into a home for
unwed mothers, teens and adults.  Now you might say this sounds like what they did back in the 50's but it was much more than that.  At the
center, as I call it, I found friendship and support that I needed and I am grateful for the experiences that I gained there.  I went through a closed
adoption because I knew for myself it would be too hard to be a part of my child's life watching him grow up and not being able to be his mother.
So I received several backgrounds of families and out of my first three I found the perfect family for my son. They were as close to my family as
possible without being my family if you know what I mean.  When my son was born he was mine for six days, cause by law I had 72 hours which
ended up to be the week-end so he wasn't placed until the following Monday after he was born.  I remember my hand shaking that day as I
signed the relinquishment papers. I remember feeling nervous, happy, and sad all at once. But there were several things that allowed me to feel
comfortable with my decision.  I remember the phone call I got from my social worker when my son's parents came to pick him up from the
agency. I remember one statement clearly......."They both came in and just stared at him, smiling nervously. Finally, their case worker asked if
they would like to pick him up, his mom looked at her and said 'Can we?' The worker laughed and his mom made her way over and slowly picked
him up cuddling him in her arms." That brought a smile to my face. The last thing that confirmed my decision was one of the pictures I received.
it was his one month picture. He was in front of the Christmas tree, clothed in a red and white stripped outfit. Next to him was his dog wearing a
Santa hat.  The first thing my mom said was "gee I had to look at that picture twice almost thought it was your brother, he had a similar if not
exactly the same outfit."  Also the dog was an exact match of the dog that I grew up with. These things made me feel good and reassured me
that my son was in a good home.  Its been six years now and I still feel proud as ever. I believe that placing my son for adoption was the greatest
accomplishment I have achieved.

A Smile and A Tear

   On November 13, 1991, in a small birthing room of a large city hospital, a young, scared 20 year old woman, sweated and
grunted (sometimes screamed) through exhausting three minute contractions. The world moved on around her, seemingly not to
care or take interest in her troubles and tears.
   Somewhere, across town, a young couple waited anxiously for their phone to ring. They knew a child was to enter their lives
but the time and date were yet to be revealed. They prepared their house and lives for the arrival of their child, a child for whom
they waited so long and patient to love.
   At 10:35P.M., with the evening news finishing in the background, and after six hours of intense hard labor, the frail young
woman welcomed into this world her first born son. She felt embarrassed, proud, nervous and excited along with a mixture of
indescribable emotions that over-whelmed her. After ten minutes of commotion and routines, her son was placed in her arms.
She became painfully conscious of how young and inexperience she was. All of a sudden she felt undeserving of the precious
miracle in her arms. But then she looked down at her son and for a brief moment his eyes met hers, a smile came to her face
and joy to her heart.
   Six days the young mother spent in the hospital with her newborn. For six days, she mothered him, nurtured him and spoke all
that was in her heart to him. A lifetime was shared within those six days. She tried her best, knowing her experience with him
was short. She was torn between wishing for an extension of time and praying that it would end.
   The following Monday, the phone rang in a suburban household. The joyous news was delivered to the waiting couple. They
had a son. A few hours later another phone rang in a small city home. A young scared 20 year old woman listened as a voice
described the couples arrival and reaction to the child they have always wanted. The words enlightened a heavy heart. A single
tear ran down the woman's cheek. A smile appeared on her face and joy in her heart. She knew she had done well.

If my son wishes to find me when he turns 18, I welcome him to do so and if not that is fine too. For I know is is happy and receiving all that I
would want for him and that in turn makes me happy and proud for the rest of my life.

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