OH BOY!

My daughter was on the count down to her 21st week of pregnancy. A rite of passage for most expectant mothers...the ultrasound that most likely will show the sex of the baby, if that information is desired.  In our case, the information was most definitely desired.

Anyway, the big day arrived, and the three of us ushered into the ultrasound room with much excitement.  The ultrasound technician measured the head, and the thigh and then zoomed in the most perfect and large, in comparison to the rest of the baby....foot.  It was truly one of the most exciting moments of my life, for at that moment, I truly knew that my daughter was going to give birth to an image of herself.  For you see, in comparison to the rest of my small-stature daughter, she has large feet....I could not help but chuckle.

After what my daughter describes as "hours" the technician very casually zoomed in  on a certain body part, took a quick still picture and announced that it was a boy.  My daughter was thrilled, and the baby daddy did not react.  I have to say that I already knew.  For you see, I had known, with everything that I had, every since the minute she said she was pregnant.  I knew that if God was going to do this to my family, the topping on the whole situation would be a boy.   I just knew it was going to be that way.

And, I was absolutely thrilled.  All of those years of praying for my Prince Charming, and there he was...who knew? God gifted me with grace that day, and for the first time in a few months...overwhelming and undeniable joy. 

I say nothing.

I have to say that all of this as taught me a few things about how to deal with this situation in the future, if someone close to me has it happen to them.  As uncomfortable as it is to listen and be there, I will pledge to be there.  I will make an effort to reach out to my friend and listen to whatever they have to say.  I will not assume that they will call if they need anything - in fact, I will assume that they are so confused, ashamed, embarrassed and upset that as hard as they try to dial the phone, or walk into the house, it just cannot happen.  I promise that I will be there, because I have been there....

And, I am not saying that I have not had family members and friends that have done this for me.   I have and I do...and my daughter and I are and will be eternally grateful for these people.

It is difficult to know how to react when someone announces that their teen aged daughter is having a baby, but I am here to say that the worst thing that you can say is "I am sorry."  Every time someone says that I want to ask them if anyone ever said that to them when they announced that they were pregnant....or when they were telling someone that they were going to be a Grandparent....

Nobody died.  A baby is going to be born.  For that, nobody should be sorry. 

If you don't believe that congratulations are in order, just ask us how our family is doing....

The Battle of the Books.

My mind was a blur.  The reality of having your teenager announce a pregnancy is difficult enough, but the unexpected issues are what makes it overwhelming.  As I have mentioned - a lot - I am a planner.  My daughter's Junior year was supposed to be the year of planning for the future.  I had college tours scheduled far and wide.  We were going to explore as many options as we could....  Iowa, Wisconsin, North Dakota, and Minnesota.  I wanted her to have a plethora of options.  The world was her oyster.

Then suddenly it wasn't.

She is not an exceptionally open person.  She has a very difficult time opening up - as a parent, I have had to learn to "read" her.  Initially, this was difficult because even though she was screaming for me to understand her, I was not at a place to want to understand her.  Her first quarter at the mainstream high school did not turn out to be very successful.  The fear, confusion and chaos in her life was exacerbated by a nasty upper respiratory infection that grabbed her and held on tight for a whole week - and we had to treat it without the aid of much medication.  She missed a lot of school and when she was there, her ability to concentrate was almost non-existent.  She did not yet want to tell everyone that she was pregnant, but realistically, it was difficult to function in that environment without letting people in on the secret.  She was not readily excused to use the bathroom, and the teachers kind of assumed that she did not care. She was a terrified young woman who would have taken support from anyone who offered it, but sadly, it was not offered -  When she missed the whole week of school, she had exactly one teacher inquire about her well-being...and that was the band director. 

In a much as I wanted this to alter her life as little as possible, I needed to understand that working toward success - despite the pregnancy - had to be the goal.  After much soul-searching, a thorough research of different options, including private and charter high schools in our area, I approached my daughter with the idea of going to the Area Learning Center - a "branch" of the high school that caters to kids that don't find success at the high school or just cannot deal with the high school atmosphere, have fallen behind for some reason, or did not complete their work prior to traditional graduation.  I did not even have to get the sentence out of my mouth and my daughter wanted to go.  In fact, I made the call to the high school counselor at 7:30 one morning and by 9:30 she had turned in her books and went to the ALC to officially enroll to start the next morning.

The plan was set.  She would go to band at the high school every morning, then complete her day at the ALC  My deal with her was that she would attend every day when she was able and she would leave the idea of returning to the high school for her senior year open.  I was still holding on tight to my idea of normal.....

The ALC has been her salvation.  She is treated like an adult.  She loves the independence, and she even enjoys the group environment.  She attends every day and she even puts in extra hours. Her grades have sky-rocketed - and she has worked hard.  My personal opinion is that in a lot of ways, the ALC is a best kept secret.  It is a quiet, goal-oriented, self-driven program that works well.

 The goal for my daughter, that is literally talked about daily, is college.  She has made real, solid and wonderful college plans.  The college goal has not changed.  She is on track to start college - if not a little earlier than our earlier plans. 

I am starting to learn that my dreams for my daughter have not shattered...they have only been somewhat altered.  The dreams and goals are alive and well - just a little non-traditional....should that surprise this single mother...by choice?

Smile. You are on candid camera.

My daughter called me from school in about her 11th week of pregnancy and told me that she was having severe stomach pains.  She had gone to the nurse, who talked to me and told me that we should probably go up to the clinic to get it checked out. 

My daughter was very scared.  I was numb. For the very first time, I realized that even though this was going to be a very difficult I certainly did not want it to end, and I most definitely did not want my daughter to have any difficulties that would cause her to be in pain and distress throughout her entire pregnancy.  I had a deep love for her, but not for the baby...not yet.

The doctor on call wanted to make sure everything was alright and before I could brace myself we were in the ultrasound room.

The doctor put the wand on my daughter's flat little stomach and within seconds the second love of my life was thrashing around, moving their two inch head and waving at Grandma.  And...that mighty heart was beating....

I was sunk.  This was the second time in my life that I had fallen in love with a picture.  The first time was when the Fed Ex envelope came from the adoption agency and I pulled out a picture of a little girl from Russia in a wool dress.

I am convinced that the stomach pains, that have not occurred again since that day, came for a reason.  My daughter needed me to understand what she had experienced when she fell for the pencil-tipped sized spot on her six week ultrasound.  She needed me to grasp the reality and to understand that the issue was not just the "pregnancy" - it was a BABY. 

At the end of the day, no matter the outcome of this adventure, there was a baby that was going to be born.  A baby that was going to be the one and only blood-related link to my adopted daughter. 

My daughter and I took a trip to Minneapolis and began pregnancy options counseling at a wonderful organization called "Amnion Crisis Pregnancy Center."  It is a Christian-based organization that offers lay counseling to persons experiencing unexpected pregnancies.  It was a referral given to me by a friend who was one of the first persons I shared this news with, and who I shared my experience with not knowing that her daughter had gone through a very similar situation not so long ago.  Her daughter ultimately ended up having twins that she gave to a wonderful couple as part of an open adoption.  I did not even know that she had gone through this....I know that God put me with her that day, telling her story and helping me at a time when I needed the help so much. 

I wanted my daughter to talk about options with a neutral party.  I wanted her to make an educated and conscious decision regarding her future, as well as the future of her baby.

My friend brought me a book that did help to put it all in perspective, but more importantly, she shared a CD with me that put God firmly back into the picture.  I needed a reminder that God was there - unconditionally, in the sun and the storm....especially in the storm.

Well, hide me under a rock!

I am embarrassed to say that I was ashamed.  I am ashamed to say that I was embarrassed.  Anyway, this whole thing was pretty awful.  I have always prided myself in being a good mother.  I put everything I had into being a good mother.  I never, ever thought I was perfect, but I did always think I was pretty good at it.  This whole dilemma cracked my foundation. 

I was a social worker for 12 years.  I majored in social work in college. I tried to practice my profession everyday, even when I was not a social worker by profession any longer.  I worked hard to promote honesty an openness in my family.  I encouraged my daughter to share with me.  I talked openly about life's issues, and I encouraged my daughter to do the same.  I strongly encouraged her to talk to me about her relationships.  I asked her lots of questions, and now I know that I only got the answers that she wanted to share.  And, I only got her version of the truth, which was not always the truth.

I was not an unrealistic mother.  When the subject of pregnancy came up with my friends, I was always the one who said, "I would never say never..."  But, honestly, I didn't believe that.  I should have believed it.

I was proud of her and I let everyone know that. I had a lot to be proud of, and I was proud of all of it.  I was resting on my laurels....this single-parenting thing was stressful and challenging, but we were making it....heck, I could even be the role-model for single-parents.  Things were good....

Then things were bad.  Very, very bad. 

I was so sad and so ashamed, and so very mad at myself.  I hid in my house for two solid months.  I went to work and came home.  I avoided the public.  I did not want to be with anyone who was leading a normal life.

I fluctuated between shock, anger, and the most intense panic I had ever experienced in my life. 

But most of all I was ashamed.  So very ashamed.

But, I loved my daughter more than I ever had in my whole life.  This much I had known my whole life, and I knew it more than ever at this point in time.  This life-altering, unbelievable, and yes, shameful thing was happening to my daughter - the absolute most important person in my life.

Okay God...let's talk about this.

My daughter called her pediatrician, made an appointment with an OB/GYN and went to the doctor on her own, with the baby daddy - after she had taken five.  Yes five, positive home pregnancy tests.  She went to the doctor, and got her first ultrasound, and waited a whole day before she told me.  If you know her, you know that this act in itself must have been very difficult for her.  And, it was the first act of true dependence and maturity that she showed.  It took me awhile to recognize it, but it is true, she started to grow up the minute that first test came back positive.

The idea of having the pregnancy put under the rug was not a very good idea - or very practical.  The school nurse was told the very first day when I had to pull my daughter out of class to contact the doctor - so that I could talk to to the doctor.  The swim coach was also told, even though, way deep down in his heart, I think he already knew.    I guess I had never imagined all of the decisions that had to be made.  I had never thought about doing this before....

And then there was the matter of my relationship with God.  God and I were in a dilemma.  I was pretty mad at Him for putting my family in this situation, and I imagined that he was pretty mad at us for doing the same.  I also thought that the abortion idea was probably making Him pretty angry with me.  I had some repenting to do, but I was not sure if I was ready for that yet, as I was still thinking that the whole thing could have been prevented if He would just have done things differently.   Silly me.  Silly, silly me.

But something kept coming to me. Even in the middle of the night.  It is my "Safety Song."  A psalm.

 "Surely it is God who saves me.  I will trust in Him and not be afraid - for the Lord is my Stronghold and my sure defense and He will be my Savior."

 I have come back to this song for most of my life....on the subway in Moscow when we were being threatened, when my Dad lay dying in Washington DC, and now, when my world was coming apart (or so I thought).  I came to the conclusion that I had let go of my Stronghold....and I grabbed it again.

I could not do this without God.  We could not do this without God. 

Yes, after a full week of pouting,  I took the I out of this and put the WE back in.  If WE were going to get through this, WE were going to do this together, as we always had.  I had put my daughter at the end of my arm for a short time, but it was time to embrace her and whatever was to come.

Why? Why us? Why now? Why am I so mad?

September 3 was on a Friday.  Labor Day weekend.  My daughter started her junior year of high school on the following Tuesday.  We had talked all summer about her junior year.  She was a three sport athlete, who had decided that all 5 foot 3 of her was going to put her basketball away in order to really work on her true passions...swimming and fast pitch.  She was on the verge of showing the fruits of all of her labors.  She worked on her swimming all summer and played many hours of fast pitch.  She talked about working so hard to finally be a leader.... 

She started the swim season in mid-August, and in hind-sight, I should have known that something was wrong.

For the very first time since seventh grade, she did not want to go to practice.  She acted almost afraid to go to practice.  She was mad at me for pushing her.  She was acting out emotionally - and behaving like she had never done before.  She was so angry and so defiant.  SHE WAS MAD. 

But she wasn't mad.....really....she was just scared.  Very scared.  So scared that she did not even know how to deal with it, or how to act.  She had never been this scared before.  She was so scared that she did not even know she was scared.

The plan - that I made - was for us to keep her pregnancy a secret for as long as we could.  She would not tell anyone that did not know already - the baby daddy, her best friend, and our small family.  This was going to be a secret for as long as it could possibly be a secret.  She was instructed for "forget" that she was pregnant for awhile...after all, she was only six weeks along and lots could happen...

I walked into my workplace on Tuesday morning, walked into the HR department to ask some pretty pointed questions about health insurance coverage, and started crying.  I cried for three days solid without stopping.  I cried until I hyperventilated.  I had never cried so much in my entire life...I tried so hard to put the pregnancy into perspective.  I tried to justify it.  I tried to understand why.  I could not understand why.  I could not understand how I was possibly going to be able to accommodate all of this, when I was hanging by a thread before any of this happened. 

I had tried so hard to do the right things for her from the very first time I laid hands on the picture of her in that little wool dress sitting in the arms of that orphanage worker.  I had a life goal to give her a perfect life.  We were living modestly, but  honestly, she wanted for little.  I was put on this earth to protect and guide her to a successful adulthood.....and I had failed.  And, I am ashamed to say this, but I was embarrassed.  Really embarrassed. 

The mad went away.  Now, I was sad....

What to do....what to do.....

I have a confession to make.  I have always had this believe that essentially, abortion was wrong.  I voiced the opinion that the only way I could ever justify abortion in my mind was in the case that the mother would be at risk, or if it was a rape situation. 

However, truthfully, the thought of abortion did cross my mind, and it crossed my mind more than once. My initial thought was that it would be the "easiest" thing to do.  A trip to the clinic, take a pill...and it is all over.  My daughter could start school with nobody knowing the wiser and life would be normal again.  I just wanted it all to go away.  Oh how I wanted it to go away.  The very selfish part of me had taken over and I wanted to erase the last few days and go back to worrying about things like curfews, grades and swim meets.  I saw this as a way to have it go away.

Except, life would never be normal again.  Normal was being re-defined by the minute.

I mentioned abortion to my daughter and to the very first person who got the honor of knowing about her plight - my big brother.  My brother showed his immediate opposition to the idea.  He was strong and to the point. 

A good friend almost took me to my knees when he talked about resolution.  He had worked with numerous teenagers who had chosen abortion and he saw much struggle and depression surrounding resolution.  These young women could not find any resolution for the act in their minds and it haunted them for a lifetime.  Often, the guilt would lead to catastrophic life issues such as alcoholism, drug use, or even suicide.

I quickly fell back on my convictions and decided that abortion would not be talked about ever again, unless my daughter wanted to talk about it. 

My daughter would not talk about it.  She has never wanted to even discuss it.  For you see, she was only  thinking the way I had taught her.  The beliefs I had ingrained in her and tried so hard to teach her were coming out in her actions.  I should have been so proud of that. I am proud of that. 

Not on My Shift

I am a planner.  I plan everything.  I am not good at being spontaneous.  I want to know what is coming and how I am going to get there.  I am the type of mother who has complete calendars in excel that outline every day of my child's life for months at a time.  I wanted to know where we were going, what time we needed to be there, and what we were going to do when we got there. I had her sports calendars scheduled to the point of printing out maps to each location, or pre-setting the GPS.  I calculate time and work to maintain organization.  I want to be in control.

 I want everyone reading this to know that I did not have this pregnancy on my calendar. 

Did I mention that I am not good at being spontaneous? 

The very first thing that I said when my child presented me with the six week ultrasound picture that she had obtained the day prior and announced, "it's an ultrasound picture.....I am pregnant" is "I cannot do this."  Seriously, that is the very first thing I said, and I said it more than once.  In fact, I think I said it about 15 times in a row before I could say anything else. 

For the first time ever I felt like I was in over my head.  For the first time in my whole life, I truly felt like life had handed me something that I could not handle.  And, mind you, even though my life had been fairly normal up until this moment in time, I had gone through my share of adversity.  The adoption process took three full years of paperwork, counseling sessions, an unbelievable stressful overseas trip, and a single-parent adoption.  In the lapse of one year, I adopted a child, bought my first house, and lost my long-term job.  Then, five years later, I lost another job, and five years later, after losing a close co-worker to cancer, and watching one of my best friends lose her daughter to a tragic fire, I lost my father very suddenly....and,  it happened again...I lost my job.  But I did not and still do not see these things as unmanageable.  I was able to take control of these situations and come out a better person despite of them. 

I could not get control of this pregnancy and coming out a better person at the end was not something I could see.

 For goodness sake, I am a Project Manager all day, every day, and I did not get to manage this....I was so angry.  Anger was a new thing for me, but I was angry.  Very angry.

OH BOY

I have always been one of "those" parents.  I made a conscious decision to parent my child.  I planned it to the minute, researched my options to the point of being an expert in most of them, and ultimately decided to adopt from a foreign country.  I was 32 years old when I became a Mommy.  I had a good job, I was self-sufficient, but I had over-whelming family support.  I was a single mother who appeared to have it all together.  I was prepared and ready. 

I have dedicated my life, willingly, to raising my daughter.  If there was an opportunity for her, I sought it out and got her involved.  She was and is a willing participant in most activity and she was a true joy to serve and observe.  I love her with everything I have.  For the last 15 years, I have had the honor of being her mother.  I have loved every minute of it.  But she is 17 years old.  She did not come to me until she was 2 1/2.  I always felt like I missed something that I was not going to get back.  I did not get to see her as a baby and I did not get to watch her roll over for the first time, crawl, take her first steps, or even say her first word.  I missed out, and part of me has always felt sad, and even somewhat robbed by that.  And, she was going to leave me and go off into adulthood in such  short time.  I yearned to have those 2 years back....

Well....sometimes you get what you wish for.  You may not see it for awhile. But dreams come true...they may come in the backdoor, but they come.  And, if I have learned anything from this, I have learned that you have to appreciate what you have when you get it.  Even if it comes in an unexpected and initially quite traumatic fashion.

On September 3, 2010 my 16 year old daughter told me that she was pregnant.  On September 3, 2010, I learned, for the very first time, how it felt to be completely overwhelmed.  I did not have the answers...I did not have any answers....my dreams fell on the floor of the camper (where we were when she told me) and my heart and mind left my body and floated around southeastern MN for about two weeks before they came back.  Really, for the very first time in my whole life, I was angry with everyone and everything, including my God.  Yes, including my God.

There were so many things wrong with this picture  For my daughter's whole entire life I had been able to fix everything for her.  She struggled with ADHD and it was always a constant struggle to stay organized, follow directions, get good grades, have a social life.  She has never had the ability to think about consequences - obviously.  And, she always needed me to think for her.  I had made a life out of running ahead of her with a safety net.  Not behind her....ahead of her. 

Now, mind you, we talked about boys and sex and pregnancy and birth control. These subjects were covered daily at our house.  They really were.  But, anyone who has spent anytime with a child with quite severe ADHD knows that as hard as you may try, curbing the impulsive acts is impossible.  She acted impulsively, for 15 minutes, one July afternoon, and she changed her world, and the world of those who love her the most. 

My daughter has always loved boys.  Maybe it is because she was raised by a single mother who did not exactly have men knocking down the door.  Maybe it is because her primary male role model died very suddenly when she was 9, maybe it was hereditary, or maybe she was just born with boys on the brain. And, as opposed to the issues of her mother, the boys like her too.  Thus, the daily talks in our house about boys and sex and pregnancy.  We worked on relationship building and companionship.  Birth control was offered and available.  I never condoned sexual activity, but I literally begged her to use birth control.  And she promised that she would....