She Chose To Parent, Part 1 By Daria Dato
Reprinted from Jan.-Feb. 1996, Adoption Triad Forum
She Chose To Parent, Part 1 By Daria Dato
Reprinted from Jan.-Feb. 1996, Adoption Triad Forum
It still feels strange to me, even after all these years, to say that I was a 16-year-old mother. I don't talk to many people about "my story", not because I am ashamed of it -- just because it has been so much a part of my life for so long it is just a fact. For a long time, it didn't feel remarkable to me that I was raising my daughter, and I didn't realize what an immense privilege it has been to do so.
When I learned I was pregnant with Jenna, I was terrified and thrilled at the same time. I hoped that I could marry her father and I pictured a pretty little house with a swing in the backyard. I could see myself doing laundry, cooking dinner, feeding the baby... and giving my husband a big kiss every night when he got home, before he scooped up the baby to play.
In reality, I was living in a 16-year-old fantasy land, and the wake-up call came quickly. I learned I was pregnant at 8 am, when the free pregnancy test clinic opened. By 10:15 am, my dream was an empty vision -- upon my arrival at his office at 10:00, Andrew quickly told me two things -- first of all, this was my own damn fault, and second, he was not marrying me, if that's what I was thinking. To say I was crushed would be a big understatement.
Looking back, I was on auto-pilot. I went to the abortion clinic and had abortion counseling, because that's what girls in my "situation" did in 1984. I was counseled for about ten minutes before the counselor flatly told me I was not a good candidate for abortion, since she could read loud and clear that I wanted to have my baby. I left the clinic quickly.
Next, I called Hope Cottage Adoption Agency. I looked in the yellow pages under adoption, and chose Hope because I liked the name and their ad was big. I called from the pay phone at the mall and talked to a caseworker. We set an appointment for the next week.
I knew even during my initial call that I didn't want to relinquish, but I also knew I probably could not afford to keep. I went to Hope Cottage once a month at first, and twice a month later, kind of like going to the doctor. This was something I could do to prepare for the baby, like some people choose strollers and crib sheets. I was honest with the caseworker to an extent -- I told her I would try to give up my baby. I did not tell her that I wouldn't do it if there was any way I could get out of it.
I went into labor on a Sunday, and Jenna was born Monday morning. When I finally got over the physical pain of the birth (which really took me by surprise) and I looked at her, I quickly knew I had to keep her no matter how selfish it was. She was so beautiful, and the way she looked at me when she was less than a minute old -- wow! I learned to nurse her and change her diaper and dress her, and I loved her with every inch of my being.
When we were discharged from the hospital, my mother drove me back to the friend's house where I was staying. We were more or less on our own - a teenager and a newborn. There were many things hanging over my head -- bills, my job, the minor business of just how I was going to accomplish feeding, dressing and clothing this little munchkin of mine for the next 18 years, but at that point I was content to just spend my six-week maternity leave recovering and getting to know my little miracle.
The honeymoon was short, since my hormones were going crazy. I remember one day when Jen was almost two weeks old. I looked down at her as she nursed, and as I was watching as she lazily dropped off my breast, closed her eyes, and her lips turned up in the tiniest, most perfect little pout. A sweet-smelling dribble of milk rolled down her round little cheek. My heart broke -- this child was so beautiful, so awesome, so incredible , how could I keep her and ruin her life? She obviously had the most wonderful potential to become anything and everything -- a potential that surely could not be nearly as developed in any other child --tying this child down to a 16-year-old lousy excuse for a mother was nothing short of child abuse.
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