I’ll try to be quick about this: telling a summarized version of my story.
Lady-Bug was born in May of 2010. The first real thought I remember having after I saw her for the first time was, “I’m really a mother.” It wasn’t an excitement, filled with joy and anticipation. It was a revelation that the pregnancy I had just finished brought a child (an undeniably beautiful child) into the world.
I raised Lady-Bug by myself for 2 years and 5 months.
When Lady-Bug was about 18 months old, I became pregnant again. Unlike my first pregnancy, my second pregnancy was very-slightly planned. This man made a conscious decision to impregnate me. My body and I obliged, semi-reluctantly.
My babies have different fathers.
There’s a lot that I’m not including in this blog post, but I will eventually tell all.
Precious Picklette, my youngest daughter, was born in August of 2012. For 11 weeks, I took care of / raised both girls.
I’d say post-partum depression played a part in the emotional breakdown that I experienced in October of 2012.
Lady-Bug, almost 2 and a half, was (I’m sure) no different than she had been since beginning her (developmentally healthy) tantrums and investigation of boundaries. The addition of Precious-Picklette, her special feeding needs, breast-pumping issues, et cetera (this etc will be included in this blog, eventually) drove me to a near-complete breakdown.
Less than two hours after realizing that I was no longer able to handle the responsibility of raising two kids by myself, I called an acquaintance (who is more than an acquaintance now) and told her how I was feeling and what all had taken place in recent days / hours.
When Lady-Bug was 6 weeks old (and again, when she was 6 months old), I considered placing her for adoption. Honestly, I don’t like wording it that way, but it’ll have to do for now.
On the phone, I told my (now) friend that I needed her to “listen to me now!” … “Don’t listen to me later: tomorrow or next week. Listen to me now!” The rational-adult me was speaking. In the past, when I had voiced my wonder of whether Lady-Bug should be adopted into a nuclear family, most friends reassured me that I was a good mother and would be able to overcome whatever came my (and Lady-Bug’s) way. I needed one person to listen to me and help me follow through with my wishes for Lady-Bug.
Thankfully, the person I was speaking with (J.A.S.) is a former social worker. Not only did she listen to and believe me (about genuinely wanting Lady-Bug to be adopted), she also knew a lot more than I did about the adoption process. Not only these things, but J.A.S. also knew a couple who were hoping and praying for an opportunity to adopt a child.
Within two days, Lady-Bug was on her way to live with her adoptive parents: Mr. and Mrs. Zumba (nickname)
Lady-Bug, me, & Precious-Picklette. Not the best day of my life.
Lady-Bug’s adoption became final on February 7, 2013.
So, with Precious-Picklette in her Moby wrap, I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do. With the depression I felt due to the (pending) adoption of Lady-Bug, et cetera (will tell later), I helped Precious-Picklette biological father in the process of proving his paternity with a cheek-swab test. I wanted Precious-Picklette to live with her father (who’s in his late forties) and capable girlfriend (who’s in her fifties and has three adult children). Both of them willing to raise Precious-Picklette, Precious-Picklette’s father wanted to be absolutely sure that Precious-Picklette was his daughter – even though she’s the (female) spitting image of him. He, understandably, did not want to cultivate an emotional attachment with an infant that he wasn’t 100% sure to be the biological father of.
“In the end,” when Precious-Picklette was 11 weeks old, she began her life of living with her father and (assumed / future) stepmother.
About 4 months later, I found out about my third (and present) pregnancy. Immediately, I wanted this baby (whose nickname is Sweet-Sesame) to be adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Zumba (Lady-Bug’s adoptive parents).
Here I am, almost 17 weeks pregnant with Sweet-Sesame.
Yes, I’ve been reproductively irresponsible, but what has happened has already happened.
In November, Sweet-Sesame is due to be born. Sweet-Sesame’s assumed (almost-definite) biological father has agreed to sign the waiver of intent – to allow Sweet-Sesame’s adoption. I haven’t been updated (by Mr. and Mrs. Zumba’s lawyer) on whether he has signed yet, but I assume he has or he will soon. (Update: Sweet-Sesame’s father signed the waiver of intent.)