Please welcome Shayla to our blog, She a birthmom who is sharing her story with us today. We are so honored to have her. She does not have a blog, but she has an amazing story to tell!
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I am a birthmom. I am
a mom. I am a wife, a sister, a daughter
and a friend. I am a child of God. It’s taken many (many) years but I’ve
developed a pretty strong sense of self.
When I was a child, I was thrown into the world of sexual abuse and
fatherlessness. As a teenager I had no idea who I was. I learned all the wrong things from all the
wrong people and tried to define myself by those misgivings. Is it any surprise that I ended up pregnant
my senior year in high school?
That is definitely not the way I imagined spending my senior
year. I was supposed to work on
homecoming floats, and shop for prom dresses.
I was supposed to get caught sneaking out of the house to meet up
w/friends at midnight. Instead I was
living with my boyfriend (which meant taking care of a house) working full
time, going to school full time and trying to schedule doctor appointments in
between it all. The few times I was
able to do “normal” senior-year stuff, I was treated as a bit of an
oddity. Everyone was nice, but all my
conversations revolved around the pregnancy.
Everyone was (naturally) curious, asking a lot of questions I didn’t
have answers to. This became my new
identity. I’m a teenage a mom - I am a
statistic.
It was my mother that first brought up the idea of
adoption. Since my only knowledge on the
subject was firmly rooted in Hallmark specials about worst-case scenarios, I
wasn’t thrilled. And by “not thrilled” I
mean I did a lot of yelling and stormed out (give me a break, I was a very
hormonal 17 year old). But the idea was
enticing. I could actually go to college
and become something, and my child could have a stable, loving, 2-parent
home. My mother brought up the subject
a few more times and I finally agreed to a meeting so she’d stop bothering
me. The counselor at Bethany Christian
services explained our options - closed adoption, semi-open, and open
adoption. She explained that we could
pick the parents of our child, and that we could have a say in how much
information we did or didn’t receive after this child was born. I knew as she was talking that this was the
best thing for everyone involved, that my boyfriend and I had no business
trying to raise a child. It would take
several months though before we could truly make the decision. I can’t begin to explain all the emotions we
went through to finally get there. I could
write a book on those few months alone.
Once the decision was made we felt confident about it. Over the course of the next month we had
several more meetings at Bethany and picked out a family. Ever want to feel like you’re playing God? Try looking through a pile of families and
picking one to be your unborn child’s parents.
Goodness.
We chose open adoption and the next few months were spent
developing a strong bond w/our daughter’s parents that continues today. Her mom was in the delivery room w/us, and we
had a baby dedication ceremony at the hospital before my boyfriend and I left.
Empty handed.
I’m not going to lie, my arms literally cramped for the next
few nights because I didn’t have a baby to hold. At the time, the law stated we had 10 days to
change our minds - no questions asked. I
changed my mind 1000 times a day. Those were the longest 10 days of my life.
Eventually life got back to normal. I had graduated, given birth, and was living back
home with my mom like every other 18 year old.
I applied to exactly 1 college, got in and started that following
January. It wasn’t easy, but I got on
with my life and (many, many stories later) graduated college. My daughter and her parents came to my
graduation. That was awesome.
While in college I was able to get several years of free
counseling. As a Counseling major a few
sessions were required, I just needed more than most J This was the first time I started to figured
out exactly who I was. That this person
wasn’t defined by abuse, fatherlessness, or even the birth of a child. I was, first and foremost, a child of God. I didn’t really know what that meant. All I knew was that I was more than a
product of my environment, and that was as good of a start as I could hope
for. After college though I fell away
from God and fell into the I-don’t-want-to-think-about-my-pain- trap. Years later I finally surfaced, and was
desperate to put this pain in my rear-view mirror. I did some serious soul searching, got back
in church and finally decided once and for all that I wouldn’t let my childhood
define me. I’ve had to grapple with some
pretty hard truths in my life. Though none
of them trump the fact that I’m a child of God, and that “all things work
together for good to those that love the Lord, and who are called according to
his purpose”. (Romans 8:27-29) I have
seen this promise play out time and time again.
Over the past few years I’ve gotten married, had a son, and began
developing a relationship with my (now teenage) daughter. Through it all God has taught me so much
about sacrifice, love and humility. I
don’t have it all figured out, but I do know that over the next 20 years or so
that I’ll be raising children, God will never leave my side. He’ll continue to show me exactly who he
designed me to be. I’m a mom. I’m a birthmom. I’m a friend.
I’m a child of God.
