Words by Chrissy Evans Image by Jacky Mitrius
When I was 18 I got pregnant. All I can say is that the father and I, who had only been together for a couple of months, weren’t very responsible and it happened. The relationship was already starting to decline at that point and he wanted me to have an abortion but that was something I just couldn’t do. I thought I was ready to be a mom, especially when I found out I was having a little girl, and I thought I could do it all on my own.
I decided to choose adoption when I was 5 months along and realized that I just didn’t have the support I needed. My mom was so upset over the whole situation and it had really put a strain on our relationship and she had already told me that I was on my own. My daughter deserved to have 2 parents that could provide for her in ways I wouldn’t be able to. When I had first found out I was pregnant the owner of the restaurant I was working at told me about friends of hers who lived locally and had been trying to have a baby for 7 years and had recently decided to try adoption. I decided to call the adoption agency and set up a meeting.
We met at a restaurant and they brought a photo album full of pictures of their home, their dog, and vacation pictures with all of their extended family. We talked for well over an hour. When I left the restaurant that night my mind was made up. I didn’t need to meet anyone else, I wanted this amazing couple to be my daughters parents. A few short months later on a snowy January morning I watched them as they sat in my hospital room holding her and feeding her her first bottle and I knew that I had made the right decision.
I received pictures and letters documenting the first two years of their lives as a family of three. I could just tell they were so happy and my daughter was being incredibly well taken care of. A little while after that I had my son. When he was a few months old I was out shopping at a grocery store a few towns over and I turned a corner and there she was...my daughter and her mother. She had just turned three. Her mother and I talked for a few minutes and then each went on our way. Even though it was a little hard seeing her, our chance meeting once again reaffirmed my difficult decision...she was such a happy little girl.
In a few months my daughter will be turning 18...the age where she can decide if she wants to meet me. I hope she does. I hope I get the chance to tell her that giving her up was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life but at the same time was the best decision I could have ever made and I hope she understands. I hope I get to tell her my story.