My hope in writing this post; is that I can be a voice for other women like me.
I know there has to be stories just like mine. Women who have been where I have been. I've never met another birth mother...but then, we don't exactly wear it on our shirts do we?
There is so much more to adoption than the child. Not every child who is adopted was first an orphan. Not every child who is adopted was unwanted. I believe there is only love in adoption.
Only love.
Even if the birth mother can't say it or even see it; there is only love. Even if she can't understand it; giving the child a life is only love.
But I know my story isn't the only one that gets told this way...
and there's so much to say...and never enough words....I've never really told my story, not like this....so here it is, in the best I can give.....

When I was eighteen years old, I got pregnant. The first time I had sex.
The first time I had sex; I wasn't planning on having sex. I was planning on having dinner with a guy who said he wanted to have dinner. I found myself in a situation I didn't really know how to get myself out of. I was a girl. I was naive. I was foolish. I guess I thought that if I just gave in, got it over with; I could go home and forget the whole thing.
Honestly; I don't know what I thought. I don't know why I didn't just punch him as hard as I could in the balls & leave...maybe that's something you learn from time....(or maybe that's something you learn in looking back and you definitely tell your daughters to do...)
It was awkward, and ugly, and not at all what it should have been.
I was an eighteen year old girl who didn't keep track of when my period came or didn't come; because whether or not it came exactly every 28 days didn't make the difference between pregnant or not.
I had no idea when I was supposed to get it, but after a couple weeks; I was paranoid that I wasn't going to get it. And I called him to tell him so. He took the Lord's name in vain & said to me, "....that's really what I need in my life right now, Kaedra. F***. Thanks."
And that's the last time I ever spoke to him.
In the days and weeks after; my brain was a jumbled wreck. It ruined me. All I could think of was how awful an experience it was. And I promised myself I would wipe that experience from my memory the first chance I got. I would just "replace" my first time with another first time. A "better" first time.
Nobody knew I'd done it. Not even my best friend. Just me.
Just me and God.
Just me and God, and the devil.
The latter of whom, twisted and tortured me with it.

And a handful of weeks later, I was presented with that chance I was planning on, and I took it.
And it really wasn't any better.
And I hadn't fixed a single thing...since I was already pregnant.

I found out for sure in a McDonald's bathroom stall. Alone. I read the box in my car, then threw it away before I walked in, hiding the pregnancy test in my pocket. When the test results came back, my brain was so dizzy that I couldn't remember which lines meant yes, and which lines meant no. So I drove back to CVS to buy another one, and went through the whole thing again.
I think when I took the first test...I knew. I think before I even bought the first test I knew.
But when I took that second test, I sat right there on the dirty, disgusting McDonald's bathroom floor and cried. The floor felt much cleaner than I felt of myself.

I lived at home.
I was supposed to be the virgin daughter of the preacher.
I was scared, and ashamed, and sick.

I worked as a server then. I couldn't focus at all at work that night, and when my boss pulled me aside to ask me what was wrong; I told her. She was the first person I told. The first thing she asked was had I told my parents. When I said no, she told me not to worry; we'd figure it out. I asked her if I was going to get fired.
I don't know why I thought I would get fired, or why that was important to me. I guess I just assumed every grown-up in the world believe in purity, and none of them would want to have a single, pregnant teenager working for them.
Like I said, I was naive.

In the weeks before I told my parents, a girl I worked with somehow figured it out one night. And the next day, she pulled me into the corner, opened my hand, and put a scrap of paper in it. She closed my fingers over it with her own, and said, "I'll give you a ride."
I asked her what it was, and she told me, "it's the number for an abortion clinic."
I jerked my hand from hers and dropped the paper to the floor. I felt sick, and suddenly very heavy, and so hot.
She said, "Kaedra, your dad is a preacher! You need to take care of this before you start to show. They will burn you at the stake."
And I said with tears in my eyes, "then I'll go down in flames..."

Of course I didn't want to be pregnant. But I was. Of course I didn't want to bring that shame upon my family, and myself. But I would. There was a life inside me. A real, heart-beating, life. And my only job from then on out, no matter what, was to keep it going.
At night I cried into my pillow as silently as I could. I dreamed about running away, and then coming home in 9 months. But where could I go?And how would I explain?
I remember seeing something in the back of a Point of Grace cd, about a place for pregnant girls, a safe haven of sorts. I think it was even free to go...but you had to tell your parents first. I couldn't think of how to tell my parents. I told my best friend, and she drove me to the Pregnancy Resource Center in the next town over where they confirmed what I already knew.
I decided to write a letter to my parents to give to them. I kept it in my purse for a few days; but left my purse in another friend's car, where she found it and read it.
I know my friend meant well; but her showing up at my door the next morning and making me tell my parents...was the worst possible thing.
As an adult now; I can imagine how I would feel if my daughter told me something so personal and heartbreaking, while she sat between two girls who weren't mine.
My mom cried silently. My dad just looked out the window. They dismissed my friends, and my dad mentioned reading a prayer request for a couple who wanted to adopt a baby...

My parents were amazing. They were obviously disappointed in me. But they never, never, never, not one time ever made me feel like they loved me any less, or that they would not stand with me through it all.
The coming days, and weeks, and months were awful for my family. The church that we thought was our refuge and our home, became a nightmare that some of us still struggle with today; twelve years later. Friends became enemies, and sinners showed their sinful hearts.
I felt betrayed. I felt unloved. I felt as though I was a stain that needed to be swiftly & quietly removed from there.
The church was split. Split beyond repair. There were people who stood by us, but there were just as many who did not.
My dad resigned.
We retreated to our home; where we became closer to each other. Most days; it was our refuge.
And some days it felt like our captivity.

I can't remember exactly when I decided that I wanted to place my child for adoption. I cried and prayed so many nights about it...my parents were incredible, and were prepared to support me in whatever my decision was; which they left entirely up to me. My brothers were amazing, too. They never treated me any differently. I knew if I decided to raise my child, they would all have played such important roles in that life.
But when I made up my mind; I knew, that I knew, that I knew...that this child growing inside me, was always supposed to be someone else's child. When I made up my mind, I never changed it. I never wavered in my decision. I was certain, full of faith, that I was doing exactly what God had planned for me, and for my firstborn child.

I don't remember how we got in contact with them, but we reached out to the couple my dad had received the prayer request for. We went through the legal process of an open adoption. The birth father needed to sign a surrender form. The attorney made several attempts to contact him, and even mailed him the paperwork, asking him to sign it, have it notarized, and mail it back. When she still didn't hear from him; she just went right to his job. Obviously I wasn't there, but I gathered from her that he said something similar to what he said to me that day on the phone; and asked for a pen.

We met the adopting parents, we spent time with them. When my mom & I went to the ultrasound to find out the sex; we went shopping and mailed them a reveal package full of blue.

They were beautiful, and wonderful, and exactly perfect for my child, and I knew it. I never doubted it. It felt right, because it was right. It is an amazing experience...to walk through something so incredible, and know you are seeing, and feeling, and being, exactly what God had planned for you before time began....to see how He makes beauty from ashes....

I went into labor on a hot summer day, my due date, actually. I remember my dad pushing me into the hospital in a wheelchair, and getting suddenly very overwhelmed and crying that it was finally happening. It was such a strange mix of emotions....there was a small fear gripping me, or maybe a bittersweet sorrow...that my time with my son was coming to a close. The nights that I couldn't sleep from the heartburn, so I would sit up in bed with headphones on my stomach, playing music and talking to him. The little flutters, and hiccups, and kicks...it was time to pass on the duty of caring for his precious life.
And at the same time, I was full of joy. A family of 2 was becoming a family of 3. A husband and wife were becoming a mom and a dad. That's always exciting.
They met us at the hospital, and came in the room to visit with me before the labor got too intense.
The delivery was a little wild, and I really don't remember everything that happened, but I know I was close to being an emergency c-section. Even still; he came out healthy, and alive, and well.
My parents were both there with me, and my dad got to cut the umbilical cord. We spent a few minutes with him, holding him and seeing him before my dad carried him to meet his parents for the first time.
He was quite surely the most perfect thing I had ever seen in my entire life. I loved him with a bursting love. It took less than a moment to know that I wanted every single best thing in the world for him. That I wanted him to be safe, and loved, and happy, and blessed, and to know joy all the days of his life. It took less than a moment to know in the depths of my heart, and in every part of my being that I would give up my life for his to keep going. I wanted to give him every good thing. And I knew I was giving him the first good thing, and the best thing I could. A mom and a dad. A mom and a dad who were ready for him, ready to love him, ready to teach him. Ready to be parents, and not just kids themselves.
He was mine. And he was theirs. And there's no other way to say that or to elaborate that....