Ive been watching a new show. Its a follow up to the ever popular "16 and pregnant." Its called "teen mom" and you can view it on MTV or if you have Comcast you can find it on the "past season catch up" button on demand.
Many of these stories are focused on these teen moms who chose to keep and parent their babies; however, one story follows a girl and her boyfriend who made an adoption plan for their little girl. Tears flood my eyes as I watch the scenes play out. How smart and brave these two young people were to give their baby away...a baby that they certainly would have had plenty of love for, but not the means to raise.
I found myself in almost the same situation. I got pregnant, gave my baby up for adoption...but for me it was more then that. Ty was my fifth child. I knew that my decision would impact not only me, but my other four children a great deal. I also knew that Ty would live no ordinary life. Yes his life is extraordinary, but certainly not ordinary. He doesn't realize it now, but the questions will come. Fortunately (and I knew this when I picked them) his parents are wise, and loving, and trustworthy, and will only do what is best for him...and that will be to tell him where he came from and why his life is so extraordinary not ordinary. He will learn these things about his life and his past (even though he was in my belly) and it will become not such a big deal...no surprises...no secrets. Rebekah and I talk about this often. Our conversation is open and honest and effortless.
For my other four kids...they think of Ty as nothing less then their brother. They refer to him as their brother and nobody corrects them when they do (not I nor Rebekah and Ben). How can you take that away from a child? They watched him grow as my belly got bigger. They placed their sweet hands on him and felt him kick. He was real, he is real.
I am not naive to the fact that my kids hurt because of the adoption. They have suffered a great loss...a loss equivalent (the experts say) to a death. Sometimes I think they suffered more then I did. I'm older, and I knew exactly what I was doing...but they didn't have a choice...they didn't have a voice. I couldn't give them a voice because I knew what was best for them, even though they couldn't understand.
My children have noticeable wounds because of my choices. I can hardly type that without crying. Can you imagine my pain...its painful...to give a baby away, not because you don't love him, not because you don't want him, but simply because there is not enough of you to go around, because if you kept the baby it would mean that everyone would suffer a lack of attention and a lack of time. One thing I have learned in my fourteen years of being a mom is the biggest thing that children require is time. You could be poor as dirt or as rich as the hills, but if you don't spend time with your kids, nothing else matters. My gift to all five of my kids....was time.
I know my kids hurt, Ty might hurt someday to, but I pray for only a moment, until he grasps the full truth of what I chose for him.
So we heal, we heal, we heal. Time heals.