Nineteen and Pregnant
Giving my baby up for adoption isn't as hard as everyone thinks.
by Kayla Galloway
November 12, 2007
"How exciting, you're pregnant!" Lisa said, as if it were a casual encounter. But soon into the meal, we "clicked," and the conversation got very close and emotional. Before long, we were discussing the most intimate details of our family histories. I left dinner feeling happy that they were considering me. I never really thought of going through adoption as my "choosing" a family. I guess I thought that I'd be "chosen." But with Lisa, it was more like we found each other.
The next morning I received an email from Lisa. She tried to be low-key, but it was clear that she very much wanted to adopt my baby: "Kayla, I've been sitting here for the last half hour or so trying to come up with something sort of poetic to say because just to say, "Hey — can we talk about adopting your baby?" seems a little crass. However, my beloved, David and I sat up until the wee hours this morning talking about just that. So, we would like very much to talk about adopting your baby." Everything seemed perfect.
The next week, we had our first ultrasound, but it didn't determine the sex of the baby, who was sitting cross-legged, almost as if in a hammock. (I do tend to refer to him as him, simply because I don't like the thought of calling him "it.") I've been lucky. Lisa and David are taking care of everything. I've never really thought of this baby as being mine. I've spent almost no money on my pregnancy at all. They take care of my bills, they buy me new clothes, and they're handling the lawyer. Pretty much all I have to do is relax, be pregnant, have the baby, let them take him home, and then call them whenever I want to visit. We're having a completely open adoption. I have full visitation rights. I can go visit and be "Aunt Kayla" pretty much whenever I want, as long as I call ahead. (Lisa and David live about two hours from me.) The baby will know that I'm his birth mother; he will know he's been adopted.
When I told my little sister I was going to have a baby and give him up for adoption, she was almost in tears. "Are you sure, Kayla?" she said, over and over. "Are you really sure you want to give away your baby?"
The truth is, I am. I've never really thought of this baby as being mine. Even now, at thirty-four weeks, when I'm gigantic, I think of him as belonging to Lisa and David. Of course, I still love him, and my plan is to continue to love this baby, just as I have for the last eight months: as if he belongs to someone else. I'm sure that sounds crazy, or that I'm in denial. But it's true, just as it's true that I feel attached to him. How could I not? The baby's growing inside me. It's amazing when I go to the midwife and hear his quick little heartbeat. All I do is feel him kick. But from the beginning, I've known that I wouldn't keep him. I've always felt that he was meant for someone else.
©2007 Kayla Galloway and Nerve Media
About the Author
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Kayla Galloway lives in Bothell, WA, with her aunt and three cousins. She works full time for a vacation ownership company and is hoping to attend the West Coast College of Massage Therapy in Vancouver, British Colombia. She spends most of her time counting baby kicks, sleeping and writing poetry. This is her first freelance piece. |
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