It begins in my bathroom around 9 pm. I had a feeling from the moment I woke up but it wasn’t until now that I finally had the chance to confirm the gut wrenching reality. Before the two minute timer broke the silence, the double solid lines could not have made themselves more prominent.
I was pregnant.
I dropped the stick as my heart dropped, tears poured and I held my humiliated face in my hands. How could I have been so stupid?!
In the beginning of 2015, I had made a bold move back into my parents house and left a position that not only secured my independence but gave me a great social life. I had worked hard to get where I was but I wanted to be and do more. God’s still, small voice had been prompting me to leave it all behind and to not miss the opportunity He had for me just around the corner. How do I know it was God? Countless times I was told by people I didn’t belong where I was and should pursue my passion.
So I trusted and made the leap of faith.
As I weaved between unpromising local jobs while balancing a chalk art business, I began feeling myself slipping into a dark place of anger and resentment for the choice I had made. I developed a bratty thought pattern of, OK God, I trusted you, where is this future and hope you promised?! It was hard to accept that the reward on the other side of the leap wasn’t instantaneous.
Confiding in a friend, I was jokingly encouraged to not worry but to get out of town and let loose. Of course, the only piece of the conversation that stuck was to let loose and I did just that. Loose was an understatement, I don’t know who I thought I was! I straight up partied too hard and found myself four weeks at the beginning of this story.
That was 37 life changing weeks ago. I smile now as I look back and realize that it was the only way I could have gotten to where I am today. If only I had known that it was for such a time as this that I was created for.
The beginning of a life changing adoption story
Partnering the pain of the decision I had made and the outcome it had brought me to, I sat broken and sobbing in my bathroom. Vividly, I once again heard God whisper ever so gently, Adoption. This is not your baby. It hit me like V8, it wasn’t my baby. Yes, I had made the stupid decision. Yes, I would have to bear my scarlet letter for a short time, but why not place the baby to someone who wants one? I didn’t want a baby, I wasn’t in any place to be a single mom of two, jobless, living at my parents and going through a divorce. I foresaw a destitute road when I thought about it.
Not only was I adopted but I was given an amazing life through being placed for adoption. My birthmom wanted to give me a life with a mom and a dad, as I wanted for this baby.
It was a God thing because I love being a mom.
To be honest, thank God I am fertile because I cannot wait to get married and have more babies but this one, in particular, my heart had been prepared that I was just a vessel for.
It was coming into the week of my mom’s birthday and I sure couldn’t bring myself to drop the bomb until after. I had only told a handful including the birth father who disagreed with my decision and soon fell out of the picture altogether.
As I gathered my information from adoption clinics, it was International Christian Adoption that stood out to me. From the minute I called and the first meeting with my assigned worker I was kindly reassured that no matter the outcome I would be supported. When I did share the news with my parents the disappointment could be felt a mile away but the encouragement and unconditional love expressed, even to this day, has been incredible.
In early December three family photo books were placed in front of me. It was time to choose the parents! I was stoked! Personally, because I had taken such a numb response to the situation, it was a sweet relief. I had been looking forward to confirming my role as a birthmom. Unemotionally, I flipped through the first album but kept looking at a turquoise one still sitting across the table. It was when I took it in my hands that I knew I had found the family.
I was two pages in and started reading Jonathan describe Kristen when I was overcome with emotion. The tears flooded. I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t turn the page. My brain raced repeatedly She is the mom. She’s the grown up version of me. There couldn’t be anyone more perfect for this baby. Not only did we look alike but I knew we’d have the same heart and soul.
Everything they did as a family was the same thing I did in mine and with Noah. Courteously I looked through the third book but knew for a fact it was the Whitmore Family.
My nerves were jolting the first time I talked to them on the phone the following weekend. I cannot describe how just hearing their voices confirmed my choice. We met for the first time December 23rd over lunch with our ICA workers. Between the time that had passed, I had applied, interviewed and was hired to be an Instructional Aide at my son’s elementary school along with starting an undergraduate degree program to be an elementary teacher at Grand Canyon University.
Life was changing.
The instant connection I made with Jonathan and Kristen over lunch established a foundation like none other. Kristen made sure to text me weekly to see how I was doing, as I did with doctor and belly updates. On February 4th we planned to find out if it was a boy or a girl and I met them at Unique Ultrasound.
IT WAS A BOY!!
The following weekend I spent visiting a friend in San Luis Obispo finishing up his last few months at Cal Poly. Who knew, but that was where Kristin and Jonathan had gone to college and met. On February 20th they drove out with seven year old Lucy to meet my family and Noah who also happens to be seven. Not only did Lucy and Noah hit it off but the time spent together allowed for us to candidly talk about the adoption and life afterwards.
May 17th we met with our ICA workers to clarify the final details including delivery day and the legal aspects of what is expected. I was told his name was chosen to be Lincoln Joel Whitmore and shared how happy I was to put an official name with the belly movements since Noah’s second grade class was calling him Anakin, my mom had picked Joshua when she talked to the belly and the let loose friend had named him after himself! Wrapping up the meeting and walking out together only sealed the deal. It was official.
The next time we would all be together would be D-Day!
Currently it is June 7th and the due date is set for June 12th. As this chapter comes to a close with a nice waddle, swollen feet and a belly that feels like it’s going to drop out, words can’t express how thankful I am for this experience and totally excited for what is in store for the future!
I’m an open book so please don’t hesitate any hankering to question or comment :))
Do stay tuned for the coming birth story of little Lincoln and follow me as I move through the newest, realest chapters of life as a birthmom among everything else!