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Sunday, March 17, 2013

Adoption or Abortion they both start with A. One is beginning of life and the other is the end of life

I watched this movie this weekend and it brought back so many memories of when I was 15 years old and pregnant. My mother tried to get me to have an abortion and I would not do it.
Movie called October baby
My boyfriend, I had been with for three years pushed me into having sex with him. When I finally gave in to him, the first time we had sex I got pregnant. That was in January 1971. I continued on with school until it got out in June. In September when it was time to go back to school, I had a home-based tutor because in 1971 girls that were pregnant were not allowed to attend when showing.
Through the summer I babysat and cleaned house for a husband and his wife who had three children, they owned a Dairy Queen. So, they worked very long hours. I was going to keep my baby but the closer I got to the end of my pregnancy I knew it was not good for her or myself. I had bought her a baby bed, bottle's,  clothes and diapers. I was preparing to bring her home.
I had been down to Jackson Michigan visiting with Brad, who was the father of my baby when the visit was over his sister and him had driven me back home, to Howell Michigan. I had fallen asleep on that trip home I remember him waking me up to tell me that I was at home and told me goodbye. He never kissed me goodbye that day they were laughing and smiling as they drove away.  That was the last day I ever saw him, I was seven months pregnant. I'm 60 years old now and the tears are running down my cheeks as I remember that goodbye. The pain that followed after that day has stayed with me my whole life. I'm sure the hormones had a lot to do with why it has stuck in my mind so vividly. I was a virgin and Brad was my first love, what they called puppy love in those days.
My daughter was born in October of that year at a hospital in Ann Arbor Michigan. It was a Catholic Hospital, one of the Nun's the next day would tell me that I would walk down to the nursery and stand at the window and cry, I was sleepwalking. At the time, I knew I was doing the right thing to give my daughter up for adoption.   I'm not so sure anymore. She came back into my life when she was 24 years old and her life had not been a picnic with her adoptive mother. May 9, 2012, my daughter passed away so she and I had at least 16 years together.
I miss her.

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