No child wants to hear they were a mistake. (You may have noticed I changed the title of my previous post about my adoption story). A friend on Facebook pointed out that maybe I should change my phraseology, and so I did.) None of my pregnancies with my daughters were planned, so I suppose one might say they were mistakes. But I never have. Even though their timing wasn't what my husband would have considered ideal, we are grateful they came to us when they did. When I tell people that my girls weren't planned, I tell them that they are our gifts. Heavenly Father had his hand in how each of our children came to us. They came when they were meant to. I am grateful for the family that I have, for all five of my children who were added to our family every two years after the first was born.
Nineteen years ago, in another lifetime, when I realized my choices had affected more than just myself, I have to admit that my initial response was definitely not one of gratitude. It was a difficult time for me. I came to realize that another innocent life was involved. My reckless behaviors had led to a huge consequence, and the decisions I made from then on were no longer just about me. Suddenly, everything was very serious:
(In case you cannot read my lovely handwriting, this journal entry reads:
Thurs, Nov. 5, 1992, 11:05 p.m.
I've been feeling kind of sick, and altogether basically tired & depressed. I can't get enthusiastic about anything lately. Things certainly can set me off & get me easily upset, though. I'm so uptight. I've got so much building up inside me & I can't let it out.
Every now & then, a burst of steam shoots out uncontrolled. I'm afraid the whole thing is going to bubble over & explode.
Nobody knows. I can't talk to anyone, not even you. My soul is screaming inside, but what can I do? What can I do? Everything is so real & scary. There is no one to help me overcome my fears. I have to handle everything alone.
Consciously, I feel quite calm. My future is a great blank. I don't know what I'll do, but I'll handle it somehow. In some way, things will make themselves work out. I'll make it through.
But inside, there are so many questions, frustrations. I've got to take it as it comes, but what if I don't want what's coming? I'm totally unsure of how to handle any of it.)
I did not realize it at the time, but this baby that would be coming into my life was a gift. She was the first gift. Over the next few months, I came to believe the truth of this statement. She saved me. She brought me back to myself, and back to the Gospel, back to my testimony. She helped me to take care of myself again. Because I knew I owed it to her. I knew I had to take care of her, and in doing that, I helped myself, too.