My Story

So this is my first blog. I feel a bit uneasy. I guess that's to be expected.

First- I guess I will make a point to myself- this blog is to be used for adoption-related issues only. I feel sometimes that I have two people trapped inside of me. The person I would have been and the person I am. I must have hit the nail on the head because the tears just welled.

"The person I would have been" is actually who I am everyday. Its the person I was when I was a child, the person I was pre-adoption, and the person I reunited with about two years ago. She, the real Katie, disappeared in a fog in 1998. It took many years for me to find her again. She had a quick wit, an eagerness to learn, and a trusting nature. The latter has been replaced by cynicism unfortunately. But for the most- that Katie- has been back in full swing for the past two years. All impart to meeting my husband- my beacon of light.

The person I am- is the one hiding in the shadows. The one who was born of conflict in 1998. So I assume- with her being of childlike age- it makes sense that she has childlike thoughts. I can't say that I hate her- she did bear much grief for me. I just need to settle her soul and I hope by letting "her" thoughts out through blog may relieve her. This part of me finds opportunity when I'm alone. Haunting thoughts of indecision, what-ifs, regret, anger, etc. So- I find myself alone today- with a part of me that should have never existed. It's time that I find closure.

My double life- I guess how I refer to it- began in the Spring of 1998. I was a freshmen in college- studying Architecture. I was an honor student, had scholarships, played sports (an avid jogger), worked, etc. I felt like I had made it out of my hometown where most of my friends were highschool dropouts. I never looked down at them- I just knew I had different goals.

I guess being booksmart doesn't negate naivety. I started dating a boy in February of 1998 that I had known from my hometown. He chased me for a bit- I was never interested- then the forces that be worked their magic. I look back now & wonder "what the hell?"-- I'm embarassed that I ever gave him the time. But I'm most thankful of the result.

The last weekend in May- I'll never forget- I knew when it happened. Three weeks later, sure enough- alone in my dorm hall I take a pregnancy test. In fact, I take three more. All I remember is hyperventilating, vomiting, and not being able to get in touch with him- "M". I finally do- and we settle on marriage. I'll continue with school and he'll join the military like he had been planning. People do it everyday. Now to the hard part- telling our parents.

It was around Father's Day- I went home for the weekend and couldn't muster the courage to share the news. As I'm heading to the door to go back to school- my mom pulls me aside and asks point-blank if I'm pregnant. I guess I had been acting quite out of character. I burst into tears and honestly don't remember much after.

At first- everything seemed to be flowing smoothly. I was going to summer school and still working. "M" and I were trying to make plans for the future. I felt that we were being responsible- taking care of our consequences. Then one night "M" calls and invites me to go bowling with him and his cousin. They come to pick me up and he meets me in the driveway. I remember the moon, I remember the breeze. He wanted out.

A brick formed in my gut. My soul left in a whisper of air. Where do I go from here?

I made myself so sick in the night crying- that the next morning I had to go to the hospital. I believe it was psychosomatic- I now had an acute kidney infection. I missed so many days of school- that I decided to withdraw with a WF so it wouldn't effect my GPA. Then life only punched harder...

Coming home from work one night on the interstate- an 18-wheeler pulls into my lane and runs over my car. I survived without a scratch being hit by 3 other vehicles after losing control. There were many witnesses- but no one got information on the truck in the dark. It was a hit and run.

The next day- my only supporters, my parents- tell me if I choose to keep this baby- I won't be welcome in their home. The final blow- TKO.

I was a lone soldier now battling to keep my daughter. I had no education, no vehicle, no job, no support, no shelter of my own. I put my name on a list for public housing- there was a year and a half wait. I went back to my high school job- fast food- borrowing my dad's car to get me there. I attended parenting classes held by the crisis center (who I am forever thankful for). I collected everything I could- from car seats, clothes, etc- anything I could attain for free or out of the center's charity. It was a different world for a middle-class kid to feel so destitute.

I felt like I was reaching for the unattainable- but who else was going to fight for my daughter? She was inutero and had already been abandoned by her father and both sets of grandparents.

I guess I'll end here today. This is where the tears are hardest to cease. Being let down by those you love is a wound that won't heal. Especially- when you sense no remorse from them years after. I was let down- and most appalling my daughter was let down. I was never a problem child- I was never irresponsible. All I needed was a little support during a time of crisis in my life. I have always managed to stand on my own two feet and I always will. I just wish my moment of weakness had been met with compassion rather than apathy.