8 Years Ago Today. . .

8 Years Ago

As I have sat here the past few weeks leading up to this week I decided instead of writing a letter to my daughter or just another post on how I am feeling about everything since it has been 8 years.  This year I am going to write about the day I signed the papers and left the hospital.  I haven’t written this post yet because out of the whole experience this was and still is the hardest part of the situation.

I find this day as the hardest because it was the day that I had to admit that I couldn’t do it and that she was going to better with the family I chose for her than she would be with me.  I am pretty sure that unless you know who I am personally you don’t know that I hate to admit that I can’t do something.  So for me the hardest part was signing the papers and handing her off to her family.

 While I was pregnant I didn’t think I wanted to even see her and I thought there was no way that I could do what they call a “direct placement”.  All that means is that I hand her off her to her family and then I leave instead of what some people do where they just leave the baby in the bassinet and walk away.

I am not going to go into much detail about the days that let up to the 9th but I am sure in time I will talk about those as well.  I remember like it was yesterday my social working coming into my hospital room on the 9th bright and early and asking me if I was ready to sign the papers.  I told her yes and she went out and grabbed two nurses because there had to be two witnesses and I started signing the papers.  I remember getting to the final papers where I relinquish my rights and thinking to hurry and sign it because if I didn’t I didn’t know if I would be able to.

After I signed the paper the brought in my daughter and I held her for about an hour before the family came into my room to see her and talk to us.  I remember we were all talking and then the mood changed for me.  I am not sure why it changed but I realized that my time was coming to an end and I just started crying.  My worker then knew it was time for the placement to happen so I handed her off her adoptive dad and just cried.  At that point my social worker had them leave the room and I left the hospital about 30 mins or so later.

Even as I type this I am tearing up because my heart is still broken and I know there is no way to fix it.  That being said I don’t regret the choices I made because I know without a doubt that she was meant to be in their family and not meant for me.  The emotions are still raw when it comes to placement day and it is something I never want to go through again.  That is all there is to this post because this post was more for me than anyone else.

Margaret Tidwell

I am a 33-year-old blogger. I write about my life and my struggles with Multiple Sclerosis. I also am a huge bookworm, and I have been doing book reviews for years now. I even blog about adoption, Multiple Sclerosis, and things that go on in my life.

Margaret Tidwell

Margaret Tidwell

Margaret Tidwell

Margaret Tidwell

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