I have never thought of myself as motherly. Never wanted any part of it. I’m 26 now, and have always known that I didn’t want children of my own. But when I was 19 I had a surprise pregnancy. I was careful, but life happens. Long story short, I chose adoption. I knew I couldn’t do it and wanted the best for my little person…
My gay BFF wants a baby and I’m pregnant but don’t want to keep it: how do I broach the topic of adoption with him?
We had our son five months ago and have been using condoms as birth control since he was born. Much to my horror, I find myself pregnant again. My partner and I have discussed our options, and have decided we don’t want to terminate the pregnancy — but we also know that we don’t want to raise two children this close together. One of my best and oldest friends has been talking about having a baby, and he and his husband are having a hard time adopting. We’ve joked about one of our friends carrying a child for them, but didn’t think it would actually happen… until I became pregnant.
My twins are eleven days old, and they’re so beautiful I can barely look at them. I’m wildly, deeply in love with them, feeling all the feelings I felt when my older two daughters were born. In spite of these feelings (and, paradoxically, because of them), my husband and I chose not to raise these girls ourselves, instead placing them with an adoptive family.
My partner and I are 18 days away from beginning to try to conceive — as happy as I am, I’m also scared out of my mind. I’m not worried about raising a child, but I’m worried about how my first daughter will react to my pregnancy after I placed her into adoption.
This is what I remember about the day I found out I would become a mother for the second time: the sunshine streaming through our windows while I fed my 22-month-old lunch. When I think back nine months to that moment, the memory is bathed in that late summer/early afternoon sunlight.
When I began testosterone replacement, I was giddy and excited. Surgery made me anxious, but I was relieved when it was over. And now: nothing. The elation I expected never came. I had rejected the most basic gift from my mother and father — I had declared myself someone other than the daughter they had welcomed two decades earlier.
I gave birth to my baby boy almost two years ago. Due to circumstances out of my control in the creation of him, I placed him for adoption, and his new family adopted him a year ago. They’ve been wonderful — they write to me and tell me how he’s doing and always send pictures. It’s great.
Nobody is “lucky” to be adopted. I am told fairly regularly that my girls are lucky that we adopted them. People are usually trying to be nice, to compliment me. But something every adoptive family has to deal with on some level is that all adoptions begin with a loss. And no child is lucky to lose their first parents. Loving adoptive parents are great, but we’re not providing something extraordinary for our children. We’re providing them with the thing every child has a right to –- a loving and safe family environment. And they shouldn’t have to walk around feeling indebted to anyone for that.