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Jennifer's
Story
I am your typical southern California girl, with just a few more pounds and no tan. I grew up in a middle-class family. I saw my parents achieve their goals. As a baby and young child my folks took turns taking college courses and eventually they both graduated with bachelor degrees, my father became a CPA (certified public accountant) and my mother a teacher. I had great respect for both of them. I had what most would call a very "normal" childhood. I did what I was told and attempted to obey most of the rules. When I was 20 I moved out of my folk’s house to attempt to have "freedom" and create my own rules. I wasn’t ready for that by any means, I became quite the party person and never took any of my bills seriously, and I was more into having money to party than money to keep a roof over my head. I finally got kicked out of all of my roommate situations. By the time I was 24 I had lived with about six different roommates, had run away from all bills at all previous residences, and lost a good deal of what could have been good friends due to my temper, depression, and lack of motivation. I finally went to a psychologist to see what the hell was wrong with me and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It would be manageable with medication and weekly therapy appointments to help moderate my disposition and mood fluctuations. I got depressed over the diagnosis and called my mother crying because I did not have the money to do all of that. I was barely making enough money to keep a roof over my head. My mother would find ways of not telling my dad that she was basically sending me money weekly to feed me. It was horrible, I had no where to go and the roommate I had at the time was very religious and disliked my reckless lifestyle (at that time I had slept with quite a few men not realizing that was a side effect of being bipolar). That Christmas I had no money to buy anyone Christmas gifts and it made me very sad. My whole family was going to visit other relatives up in northern California and my father, whom I had always had quite the rocky relationship with, was unwilling to allow me to ride with them to visit family. I was doomed to be alone at Christmas. I lived over an hour away from home at that time and no money for gas for my car either. I balled...called my mom and tried to get her to talk my father into bringing me so I wouldn’t spend Christmas alone....to no avail. I had obviously burned my last bridge with my father, or so I thought. I became so depressed that I wouldn’t see my family for a while. A few days later my mother called saying that she talked my dad into stopping by my apartment to give me money for Christmas so I could drive MYSELF up north to see the family. But barely enough to get me there and back, my heart sunk and I almost contemplated on not going at all and use the money for groceries for the week. I didn’t. I went up north and saw my family. I will say though it was the worse Christmas of my life. Horrible things happened that I will not go into. I went but somehow was still very much alone. When I got back to my apartment after Christmas I was still very much alone, for I had lost my job right before Christmas. So I had nothing to go back to. I got so depressed that I almost commit suicide. I had put the knife to my wrist (knowing the CORRECT way to slice) but had a thought of my mother looking at me in a coffin and broke down in tears, sobbed for 3 days straight. Finally I mustered up the courage to use the last few minutes I had left on my cell phone to call my mother and tell her I just wanted to die, I needed their help in a way I had never needed them before. I was depressed, alone, scared, and suicidal, I just couldn’t take living anymore. I hated life and most of all I hated myself. My mom started sobbing and said she would call me back. My phone rang less than five minutes later with my father and mother on the line saying to put in my notice with my roommate. They were packing me up and moving me home to get the help that I needed. I broke down. I told my roommate that day that 30 days and I was gone. The 30 days went in a blur of depression, relief, sadness, and worry of what was to come. I moved home and my folks and I got immediately to work and within two months had paid off $12,000 worth of debt (all of which were creditors that had been looking for me for a while seeing as to how everywhere I moved to I never left a forwarding address), got me set up with COBRA insurance from the job I lost, gotten myself a new job, and found both a psychologist for me to see weekly as well as a psychiatrist to give me the meds that I needed for my bipolar. Things seemed to be going well. My relationship with my folks had gotten a lot better. I had put on weight but contributed that to the side effect of the medication I was on. Until I went to my doctor in July and he told me something that scared me to death....."Jenn, you are pregnant." That is where the next chapter of my story begins.....
Part 2 - Life After Finding Out
Luckily the day
that I found out one of my closest friends was with me. She knew that my
relationship with my father was always rocky. Of all days he stayed home
from work. When my friend turned the corner to my house and saw his truck
she offered to take me to lunch to save me from telling him alone without
my mother as a buffer, as my mom always is. I thanked her and told her no
that I needed to deal with it, and face this one head on. My doctor had
sent me to a family planning place to find out how far along I was. I was
36 weeks, THIRTY-SIX. Yeah too far along for an abortion like I was hoping
I wasn’t. So the family place gave me the next best option....adoption.
She handed me a form and a business card of a law center they deal with
all the time. I got into my friends car (she was waiting outside to give
me privacy) and she naturally asked what the verdict was, I couldn’t
speak. All I could do was show her the adoption form. She looked at me,
put on the bravest face possible, and told me it would all be okay. I
couldn’t cry, I was too shocked by how far along I was and all I could
think of was how horribly I had messed up. I had gone out drinking several
times, each time I only had maybe 5 drinks but I drank while pregnant! The
next thought through my mind was that I had been on my medication for
bipolar the ENTIRE time, what kind of damage have I caused to this baby???
Next thought? Yes about the father, tell him, not tell him? When my friend
finally dropped me off I walked in the door and sat down on the couch next
to my dad's lazy boy recliner that he was watching a movie in. He knew
where I had gone and what I was hoping to do, find out how far I was and
if I could do an abortion. My dad just looked at me and said, "What’s the
verdict?" I took one good cleansing breathe to prohibit me from tearing
up, since my father hates dealing with crying people, and just handed him
the business card and flyer of the adoption law center place that the
family planning lady had given to me. He looked at me and just basically
said aw shit. I then asked him who to call first, the lawyer or the
adoption center? He said for me to deal with everything legal first. So I
walked to my room, closed the door and quickly got on the phone with the
law center, turns out the flyer did not state that the law center and the
adoption agency were one and the same, which made that easier. To cut a
little bit off the story I ended up finding a better adoption agency that
was closer to my house. I talked to a great lady whom I got along with
right off the bat named Kathy. She became what is known as a birth mom
counselor. She took me through everything in regards to the adoption.
Seeing as to how we only had a little over a month to get everything from
the legal paperwork, to attempting to find the father, to having me pick
out this little girl's parents. Yes I was having a little girl. The next
month and a half went by rather quickly because I was so busy. I had so
many doctor appointments, meetings with Kathy, and paperwork galore! I
told Kathy that I wanted her to pick the parents because I had so much I
just couldn’t. So she did, and then she told me whom she picked and wanted
my final approval, which I gave. Rob and Michelle. Two very deserving
people. Kathy started telling me more and more about them, just making me
love them a little more. Kathy also kept asking if I wanted to meet them
before I had the baby, I said no. I thought that I was going to be able to
wash my hands of everything right after it was over by not seeing the
baby, not meeting the Rob and Michelle. But life sometimes throws
curveballs at you that you cannot deny. I was at one of my last few OB/GYN
appointments when my doctor told me that I had no choice, I was going to
have a c-section because of the size of the little girl. Kathy was in the
room with me when he told me this; I looked at her and just said, okay. He
set up the date with the hospital and then came back into the room to tell
me that it would be less than two weeks from that date. LESS THAN TWO
WEEKS. That was when the first wave of sadness swept through me, I was
going to bring this girl to life and give her to someone else. I kept a
brave face in front of Kathy. I broke down when she dropped me off at
home. I cried in the privacy of my own home. I told my best friend of the
date and as she promised when I first told her, she would be in the room
with me during the c-section. My folks and I had had many conversations
and knowing that this would have been the first "grandchild" as it may be,
my mom just couldn’t go in the room with me and see the baby because it
would be too emotionally difficult to see her and not keep her. So my best
friend went in with me. She was great! The day before my surgery I called
Kathy and we arranged a time for her to come to the hospital and she
informed me that she would have the adoptive parents with her. She then
asked if I wanted to meet them, I said yes. I changed my mind. I couldn’t
not see the baby, whom I allowed the adoptive parents to name Brenna
Isabel. While I was in the pre-op room Kathy brought them in and Michelle
was already crying with joy. I began to cry and she hugged me saying that
she loved me already and little Brenna. We talked and she gave me the
first of three gifts. A little throw pillow with my favorite color on it,
sea green. It was great. Her and Rob were just some of the nicest people
on earth. After a little while they were booted out of the room by my
nurse and I was told to give all of my hugs and kisses because it was time
for them to take to the OR. I hugged and kissed everyone: Mom, Dad, Rob,
Michelle, and Kathy. They stopped Courtney short of the second set of
doors telling her that she needed to put on her scrubs. They rolled me the
rest of the way into the OR and I was flat on my back watching the nurses
buzz around the room. Finally my anesthesiologist came in and told me that
he was going to find out when my doctor was going to be there and give me
a spinal right before he got there. So shortly before 9:30AM the
anestheologist had me roll onto my side and curl into the tightest ball I
could, he stabbed me in the back, not really but it sure as hell felt like
it, and injected me with the magic liquid that made me feel absolutely
NOTHING from the breasts down for the next hour and a half. My doctor
breezed into the room as well as my best friend who immediately grabbed my
hand and asked how I was doing. I was doing pretty damn good seeing as to
how I couldn’t feel shit other than my face! My doctor told me not to
worry and that everything would be over rather quickly. He
Part 3 - Letting Her Go
The days that I
was still in the hospital were pretty dull. I went in on a Thursday and
had Brenna Isabel that morning and when I was placed on the fourth floor,
away from Now is the process of learning how to get on with my life again. I am trying. But it is good to know that the story doesn’t end here, but just begins because I am lucky enough to get updates and pictures. I will definitely share those as they come.
More Pictures of Brenna
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the maternity ward, had pretty much nothing to do. My mom was by side the
majority of the time. She left the hospital for a little while on
Thursday so I could possibly rest. Just as I was about to nod off I heard
someone in my room and shot up in bed. It was a guy holding a gorgeous
array of flowers. I signed for them and asked the guy to hand me the card
to see who sent me the bouquet. The card read, “Thank you!!! Forever, R
& M..” It made my day knowing how excited they were to finally be
parents. A few hours later the florist came back and had me sign again
for my second set of flowers; these were from parents the card stating how
proud they were of me. A great feeling knowing how many times in the past
I had let them down. I knew then that stage of my life was officially
over. I channel surfed for a few more hours until my folks came back.
When my nurse finally came in to help me I questioned about seeing Brenna.
She said that I was on mandatory bed rest until twelve hours after my
surgery that would be until 10:00pm. My heart sank a little knowing that
I would not be able to see my baby until she was 12 hours old. I asked
the nurse if I would even really be able to see her that late at night,
she said she would have to let my night nurse know and see if I could.
Luckily once my night nurse came on duty she said she would find a way to
get me down there because I had told her that I hadn’t seen her at all, so
she winked and said no problem. The hours seemed to drag on consisting of
chatting with my mom, flipping thru the TV channels, gagging down hospital
food (all the complaints you hear about are true), and randomly doing word
searches. 10:00pm finally came and the nurse came in with a wheelchair.
She wheeled me down to the maternity ward and placed me in a private room
with my mom. She left and one of the nurses from the maternity ward
rolled in the bassinet, and I had my first good look at Brenna Isabel. It
took my breath away at how quickly the tears wanted to come and how
instinctively I knew I could never imagine life without her. She was
perfect, beautiful, and more importantly to me healthy. That was my
biggest worry because of the fact that I had been taking my medication the
entire time I was pregnant. The nurse bundled her up and then placed her
in my arms. I took in every little piece of her face. Serene and
sleeping, she was the best thing I had ever done in my life. She
