I have been crying or on the verge of crying for the last few days. Since Isaiah's birthday I have been falling apart more and more.
These two weeks are the worst.
Every year from April 29th until Mother's Day, I am a complete wreck. It takes so much work to function properly, but somehow (definitely by the grace of God), I manage.
This is the time of year that I relive EVERYTHING. I don't try to, the memories just keep flooding back and in an instant I am 23, post-partum, feeling abandoned and looking for a clue as to what comes next.
I still looked pregnant a week later and I remember waiting for a bus when a man asking when I was due (rude!) and I broke down crying and told him about Isaiah, the adoption and the stupid cow of a nurse that made me carry him out. When the bus came, he didn't get on. I don't blame him.
I was in Target with friends when I started lactating and I had a melt down as they frantically searched for boob pads.
I didn't think I could take anymore of this.
I remember wanting to end it, but I couldn't bear what that would do to Isaiah once he was old enough to understand.
The day I had to sign over my rights, Isaiah was a week old. The clerk explained to me in everyway she knew how that this was irrevocable. That no matter what the Strides has promised, I would have no rights to Isaiah and Illinois does not recognize open adoption agreements.
I will admit that it felt like hours until I signed the papers, but once my pen left the paper, I remember feeling like I would survive this. I didn't know how or when, I just knew that I would.
When the day comes when I can say that I have, I will let you know.
Looking back, I know I have come incredibly far. Little by little I have been able to move on with my life.
Moving to Terre Haute was a huge step because I have never been more than 45 minutes away from Isaiah and his family. I lost touch for a while, and I felt both miserable and free not being someone's birthmom even for a little bit.
Though I have no regrets, it sometimes cripples me that I can't shake this title and I am pretty sure my self esteem won't recover from the hit it took while earning it.
I am always going to be Isaiah's birthmom. Though I am in no way ashamed of him, I am still ashamed of me. In my mind I am always going to have to live down the decisions I made almost eleven years ago.
Don't get me wrong, there are times when I am fine. When I can talk to him on the phone or visit without falling apart. There are times when I can share my story with more peace than I know what to do with.
This is not one of those times.
I know I am not in a good place.
This place is as dark as it is cramped. Only room for me and Jesus, he'll lead me out when I'm ready.
Just pray for me.
I will pray! We should talk ASAP. I really miss you.
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