I Had a Change of Heart About Adoption, and I Have No Regrets

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At just 15 years old, I found myself facing an unexpected pregnancy. The father, Jake, was my closest friend, but we were both navigating our own emotional storms. The news hit me while I was in a residential treatment facility, and I was overwhelmed with fear. Breaking the news to my mom was one of the toughest moments I’ve ever experienced. Informing Jake’s parents was equally daunting, but we managed.

After discussing it with my mom—who had her own experience as a teen mom—I decided to pursue an adoption plan. She reassured me that I hadn’t derailed her life, yet I understood that raising a child at a young age would be incredibly challenging. My desire for my daughter was to have a stable home, with two committed parents who could offer her everything I couldn’t.

We reached out to an adoption agency and began the process. We carefully selected a wonderful couple: the father was a neurosurgeon, and the mother was a psychiatric nurse practitioner planning to stay home with the baby for the first year. They had a solid five-year marriage, a dog, a cat, and a lizard. Most importantly, they shared our values, which meant a lot to Jake, a transracial adoptee. They truly seemed like the perfect fit.

We spent time together, enjoying dinners and park outings, even touring their home. I was thrilled to receive an invitation to my daughter’s baby shower, which I gladly attended. We agreed on an open adoption plan, including bimonthly visits and weekly text check-ins. For many birth parents, our arrangement would be seen as a dream scenario, and Jake and I sought guidance through therapy to navigate our emotions.

Everything seemed to be falling into place until the day my daughter, Sophie Mae, arrived. She was a stunning six pounds, and as I held her for the first time, I realized that letting her go would be a monumental challenge.

When the nurse handed Sophie to Jake, he looked at me, tears in his eyes. “We have to keep her,” he said softly. Those five words led to one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. I had to tell the adoptive parents, who had prepared everything, that I was choosing to keep my baby.

Breaking the news to the woman I thought would become Sophie’s mom was heart-wrenching. I could barely meet her gaze as she cried. It felt like my heart was being torn in two. Many people don’t grasp the depth of the connection between a mother and her child; carrying that baby for nine months, feeling their movements, and enduring labor makes the thought of separation unbearable.

The abrupt end of the adoption plan was painful. It was even more distressing to discover that the potential adoptive parents had blocked me on social media and publicly criticized us, labeling us as mentally unstable teenagers. My heart ached knowing they felt betrayed, but the hurtful comments were unexpected.

Despite the challenges, Jake and I were focused on giving Sophie the best life possible. Fast forward three years, and I’m now a high school senior preparing for graduation. I’ve been accepted into the Berklee College of Music in Boston, alongside Jake, who will be attending Boston College. We have a solid support network, including my girlfriend at MIT. We’ve found excellent daycare options for Sophie and plan to enroll her in preschool next year.

Although Jake and I are not romantically involved, we maintain a strong friendship and co-parenting relationship. Sophie will have two parents who care deeply for her, even if we’re not married. She’ll also have a stepmom (or two, since I’m bisexual), surrounded by a loving support system.

It’s been an unpredictable journey, but I wouldn’t change a thing about my decision to keep my daughter. She is my world, my reason for living, and the thought of life without her is unimaginable.

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In summary, my experience with adoption and ultimately choosing to raise my daughter has been one of love, struggle, and immense joy. I have no regrets about my decision, as Sophie is the light of my life.

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