Broken Heart, Empty Arms
Author: Jenn Minnich
My name is Jenn and I am a birthmother.
I am birthmother not because it was my only option, but because it was the best option for my son.
I am a birthmother not because I am heartless, but because I care very much for my son.
I am a birthmother not because I couldn’t be a good Mommy, but because I couldn’t protect my son.
I am a birthmother by choice and this is my story…
I moved to Florida from Ohio by myself in December of 2001. By February of 2002, I was not only dating “P,” but he moved in with me. I felt so alone in a new place, and P gave me all the attention in the world; at least he did in the beginning.
By week two of our relationship, he moved into my one bedroom apartment, he made me quit my job, and I wasn’t allowed to call my friends or family. But P still showed me the attention that no one else was showing me, so I let it all slide.
At the end of week three, my bank account was empty because P *always* knew which horse to pick at the track. By this time, my rent was late, neither one of us had a job, and I was being yelled at, at least twice a day. But I felt so trapped. I felt like I had nowhere to run away to. So I stayed.
On my 21st birthday, he barely acknowledged that I was alive. I had to do his laundry in the sink because I wasn’t allowed to leave the house. I couldn’t answer the phone when my family called to pass on their well wishes. If I cried, he threw something at me so I would stop. For dinner, we went to the track where he spent all of my birthday money and rent money, and I wasn’t even allowed to eat.
Three days later, he crossed the line and I finally grew a back bone. He put a gun to my head and said, “If I ever find out you’re pregnant with my child, I will kill you dead right after I kill the bastard child inside you.” Then he backhanded me in front of my two year old nephew. I don’t think I have ever been so angry, or brokenhearted.
I calmly put my nephew in the other room and shut the door. Then I threw whatever I could reach in P’s direction. I grabbed his keys to take back my house and car keys. I took his wallet to get my ATM card and the little money he had left. Then I told him to get out of my house and never come back. He was so startled that I stood up to him that he just left; no questions asked.
I packed up my apartment in about two hours. I gave my landlord all the money I could spare and promised him that more would be sent in a few days (and it was). Then I got in my car and drove from South Florida to Northwest Ohio in less than two days. I was so afraid I was being followed, or he would find me so I only stopped to use the restroom and get gas.
I moved home to my Dad’s house in March of 2002. I tried to get back in the swing of things, but it was close to impossible. P found out where my Dad lived and he called all the time, but he would only breathe on the other end. He never said a word. I didn’t feel safe in my Dad’s house and it wasn’t fair to involve him in a mess I created.
So, in June of 2002 I moved to Pennsylvania with my grandmother, changed my phone number, closed my bank account, cancelled my credit card and started over. P had no idea where I was now. I was safe.
I got a job in Pennsylvania, registered for school, made some friends. Everything was fine. I was healthy, my menstrual cycle was normal, and I was starting to feel human again.
On July 19, 2002 I woke up and was doubled over in pain. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t drink, and I could barely breathe. I went to the doctor and they did an ultrasound on my kidneys and liver. They thought for sure I had a kidney infection.
On July 23, four days later, the doctor called me and said, “Congratulations, Jenn. You’re twenty-two weeks pregnant. Please come in for a consult as soon as possible. Goodbye.”
I have never been more terrified in my entire life. I didn’t know who to call, what to say when I did call someone, or how to feel. I managed to calm myself down enough to make the best phone call I have ever made.
I called my dear friend, Bernie. I babysat for Bernie’s son before I moved to Florida and my Dad worked with him in the Coast Guard. I have never known a more compassionate and caring man than him.
Bernie calmed down enough so that I could call my Dad. My Dad has always been my biggest supporter in everything I have ever done. I have never disappointed my Dad until the day I told him I was pregnant. I could just hear the devastation in his voice. Then almost immediately, his tone switched to sympathetic. At last, I could hear the pure hatred in his voice towards P because of the hurt he caused.
On July 27, I found a doctor and went in for a check-up. We learned that although I had been unaware of the pregnancy for the first five months, nothing that I did hurt the little person growing inside of me. But I also knew that if I chose to parent this precious little child, he would be hurt. Not by me, but by P. His vicious and cold-hearted threat rang in my ear every time I felt a kick. I had to find a way to hide this baby, no matter how empty it made me feel. So I prayed.
My desperate prayers were answered on July 30, 2002. Bernie and his wife, Kelli, called to check how I was feeling and to see if I had decided whether or not I was going to parent my child. When I told them I was going to check into adoption agencies, I could almost see their eyes light up.
Bernie calmly said to me, “Jenn, we would be absolutely honored if you would consider us.” Not even thinking about it, I said, “Consider you for what?” I guess that was my pregnancy brain speaking! Everyone started laughing and Bernie said, “Consider us to be parents for your baby…DUH!” No words could have been sweeter for me at that very second. But I didn’t answer them during that phone call. I told them I would think about it.
On August 2, I went for an ultrasound to check the baby’s growth and to find out the sex. On my way home from the appointment, I called Kelli. She answered the phone, and instead of saying hello to her, I said, “Would you like to know what you’re having?” I didn’t get an answer, so I said it again. She said, “What I’m having?” I said, “Yes, Mommy, would you like to know what color clothes to buy for your new baby?”
She never said yes or okay or oh my goodness. She just cried. Between her tears she said I was brave and I was strong and I was going to be the best mother a kid could have. I never shed a tear. Nothing was sinking in for me. All I knew was that I just agreed to give away my first born son because of a very evil man who broke my heart and left me empty.
Between August 2 and October 19, I went to many doctor appointments and I spent countless hours on the phone with Bernie and Kelli. They were speaking to lawyers and I was just following their footsteps in a haze.
On October 20, 2002 Bernie and Kelli called. They asked how I was feeling and we chatted for awhile. Then they both got pretty quiet, so I asked what was wrong. They told me that PA adoption laws weren’t very lenient with out of state adoptions (they lived in Ohio). They said that after speaking to a few lawyers, it would be best for me to finish out my last 5 weeks of the pregnancy in Ohio. So Bernie drove ten hours to pick me up and on October 22, I moved back to Ohio where I lived with a family friend for the duration of the pregnancy.
Within the next few weeks, I went to meetings with lawyers, I saw a new doctor, and I got to know Kelli. We went to lunch, we went shopping, we talked and we became friends.
I went for my weekly check up on November 5. I was feeling great. I had a few cramps here and there, but nothing major. After my exam, the doctor said he was going to induce me on November 7. Kelli and I looked at each, scared at first, and then we cheered. We were so excited that the big day was finally here.
But that night, everything caught up with me…it all became real. I was confident in my decision and I knew it was the best choice, not for me, but for my son. Yet, I was still very unsure.
November 7th came and Kelli drove me to the hospital at 7:00am. They got me comfortable in my room and then began the pitocin drip to force contractions.
By 1:00pm, I wasn’t progressing, so the doctor broke my bag of water.
Around 2:00pm, I requested an epidural because the contractions were getting stronger and closer together.
After twelve hours of very comfortable labor, the doctor told me I wasn’t progressing as fast as he would like me too, and we should consider a cesarean section. Kelli and I didn’t really discuss it because we were sure everything would turn out as planned.
I should have learned by now, that nothing happens as it’s planned.
Around 11:00pm on the evening of November 7, the doctor came in to see how I was coming along. Within two minutes of his exam, I was prepped for a c-section. The baby’s heart beat was irregular because his head was stuck on top of my pelvic bone. I was given enough time to say goodbye to my Dad and Bernie, and then Kelli and I were off to the operating room.
At 11:55pm, my beautiful baby boy was born. They swept him away to clean him up and check his vitals, and at 12:15am I held my baby boy for the very first time. That was such a wonderful feeling.
The next four days in the hospital were pretty much a blur. I was so heavily medicated that I can barely remember leaving the operating room. All I remember is holding my baby as much as I possibly could.
On November 9, Kelli and I discussed names. We had a few choices and finally agreed on one: Blake Nicholas. I loved that name the second I heard it.
On November 11, Blake and I were discharged from the hospital together. I didn’t leave with empty arms though, because I went home with Bernie and Kelli. That evening, when they took me back to the house I was staying at, I broke down. It wasn’t until that evening that the reality and weight of the situation became apparent to me. I must have cried for ten hours straight before I finally fell asleep.
The next morning, Kelli and Bernie picked me up and we went to the courthouse. The more I tried to prepare myself, the harder it became. So I chose to shut everything off and speak when spoken to and sign where I was told to sign.
As heart breaking as the morning was, I was so completely relieved that my son was no longer in harm’s way. He never had my last name and he could never be found. I knew I made the best decision.
I moved back home to Pennsylvania when Blake was two weeks old. I still talk to Bernie just about everyday and I talk to Kelli about once a week or so. I have been back to visit twice; once with my grandmother and once with my best friend. I get pictures often and soon I’ll be getting a video.
I love Blake’s adoptive parents very, very much. I love them not only because they are my son’s parents, but because they loved me before, during, and after we were blessed with Blake. I love them as the wonderful people they are and the wonderful parents they have proven to be.
I have a fantastic adoption experience, and it seems to be extraordinary in comparison to others I’ve heard.
But I still remain with a broken heart and empty arms…
Copyright 2003 Jenn Minnich - Do not use without permission
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