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- Story Listed as: True Life For Teens
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Faith / Hope
- Published: 10/08/2013
The Faithful Fight for Family
Born 1980, F, from Saint Louis/MO, United StatesI was born to be a mother. From the time I could remember, I longed to be a mother. I would lovingly caress my dolls and rock them to sleep. I would change their diapers and wash their hair. I would take them on walks and hold them as they cried fake tears. They slept in my bed and went to school with me. I had my children’s names picked out in 2nd grade. I had been practicing my whole life to be a mother. So when I got married, my husband and I were eager to start our family. We started trying and a year came and passed and no baby. We watched as our friends all got pregnant around us, some welcoming the news openly and some not. We decided to seek help medically to see what could be wrong and how we could “fix” it. Well, there wasn’t anything that could cause our infertility, but that is what we were labeled as, infertile. I tried medication to increase fertility, I changed my diet, but most of all I prayed. Prayed for a miracle. A miracle that didn’t come. One year turned into 2. 2 years turned into 3. I watched as one friend, acquaintance or stranger after the other became pregnant time and time again and I was left to grieve. I was consumed with anger. 3 years turned into 4. Waiting. And more waiting. Nothing. At this point, I was depressed to the point I didn’t even recognize myself any more. Every aspect of my life suffered. I cried at work and couldn’t complete simple tasks, I rejected my best friends because there is no way they could understand my feelings and I was mad that they had beautiful children and I didn’t. I alienated my family who never seemed to be sensitive enough to my situation even though some days I wanted them to acknowledge my situation and others when they did screamed at how insensitive they all were. I holed myself in to darkness and let myself slip into grief. I cried myself to sleep each night as my husband tried to help. As year 4 came of this depression, we started to research our options. My husband and I decided we had 2 choices, invetro or adoption. I didn’t know how I felt about invetro but was angered that I had to give up my hope of having a child of my own, feeling the child inside of me and seeing the child for the first time and knowing they were mine. I was depressed that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my believed role as a woman and a wife. I went to talk to a trusted priest in hopes I would get an answer or at least be able to believe in God again. It is because of this priest that I have this story to tell. He made me feel blessed by God and hand chosen for a higher purpose through adoption. That not everyone could do this and that a child was waiting for me to be his mother, I was needed. It was the first time in years that I didn’t feel insufficient as a woman and forgotten about by God. So we decided we would adopt.
For those of you not familiar with how domestic adoptions go these days, we had to have our home inspected and go through interviews proving our compatibility as a couple and how we would discipline our non-existent child. We had to have 6 letters of recommendation. We had to put together an advertisement book that was given to possible birth mothers so that something would spark her interest. We put thousands of dollars into all of it. I again was upset that we had to go through all of this because we couldn’t get pregnant and anyone who could get pregnant just walked away with their baby. But, with my new mission of motherhood awaiting me, I stayed positive. Within 2 months, we are “chosen” by a birthmother. We emailed every day, I told her personal information and she became my friend. She told me about her family and stories of her childhood. Then after a month, I heard nothing. I contacted the agency and they couldn’t find that she had ever existed. It seemed we had been scammed . We over the course of months were matched with one birth mother after the other, which all fell through for one reason or the other. In October, we were matched with Emma who was due to deliver in April. I poured my heart into her. I again allowed myself to become friends with her. She would send me ultrasound pictures and we decided to name our baby, Jack. We shared our news at Thanksgiving that year. December came and after months of contact, the contact stopped. Again, I contacted the agency. They got back to me in the middle of teaching my first grade class. They told me that she had decided to keep the baby. I had included my class in this journey that year and as I got off the phone, I thought, “How am I supposed to tell them this.” I didn’t have to. One boy, saw my face and said, “It’s the baby isn’t it? She is keeping him, isn’t she?” Another girl comforted me by saying, Mrs. Borgmeyer, you take of us and you are like our mother, so you really have 19 children.” It was December 21st. As I listened to the readings during Christmas Mass of a mother swaddling her baby boy , I again became inconsolable. I remember completely giving up hope and laying in the dark for the next few nights on the kitchen floor crying for hours knowing my dream was over, I would have to live my life without the joy of motherhood. God had abandoned me and I had let my husband down.
Christmas came and went as I numbly went through it. The next day, I received a call from the agency saying that another birth mother had picked us and wanted to talk. So through email , I feigned interest and even copied and pasted questions and responses from previous birth mother conversations. Crystal was due to deliver in February. Every day we were expecting her to keep the baby, but as the due date loomed closer she was still steadfast in her decision. She was 24. She was living on her friends couch and had no family. She had never known her own father and she left home at 16 and never looked back. She had a part time job, but no high-school diploma. She had an abortion the year before and knew that she could never go through it again. She called us on February 16 saying she would be induced the next day. My husband and I dropped everything and flew to MA. We arrived at the airport at 4 am, landed and head straight to the hospital. We walked in knowing no one. We had never met Crystal in person. Crystal invited us into her labor room. The labor didn’t progress throughout the day. As night came, we were sent into the waiting room, and finally tried to fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning on the couch. A truly amazing nurse came and told us we could have a room to sleep until the baby was born. At 4 am, Jack was born. I was nervous about meeting him thinking what if I think he’s ugly, what if he doesn’t want me. This same nurse carried him into the room and handed him to us. We couldn’t breath. He was the most beautiful thing we had ever seen. She lifted up his hat and revealed fluffy, red hair. We held him and cried tears of relief and joy. Over the next 4 days, we stayed down the hall from Crystal in the hospital. At any moment, she could decide it was too much to give him up and keep him. On the second day, she asked for him in the morning and we heard nothing all day. We lost all sense of ourselves, knowing she was going to keep him. We called the social workers who told us the only thing we could do was wait. We left the hospital to try to calm our nerves. When we returned, the nurse met us at the door saying, “The birthmother has requested to speak with you.” So we went to our room and held hands. We agreed that this journey was over, but we couldn’t blame her or be anything but grateful and supportive. We silently walked down the hall to her room hand in hand. We knocked and entered. With a beaming smile she said, “Oh, good you guys are here. I told the nurse you could have him when you came back.”
On the night before Crystal would be released from the hospital and ultimately give up her parental rights, She called us into her room to take a picture. My parents had flown in and Crystal’s friends were there. We all took a picture as she held her baby. We began to dispurse afterwards, when she said, wait. I want one more. So we reassembled. But, she handed Jack to me this time and said, “I want one of Jack with his mother.” This is the kind of woman she is. I wanted her to have him because I knew she loved him more than I could ever understand. But, she gave him to me. The child she carried and loved. She gave him to me. It was the ultimate sacrifice. One that I don’t think I could ever make.
So after years of depression, hope, losing faith, I finally understood. God had answered my prayers just not in the time I wanted. He knew better. We received the perfect baby, one that completed our life in every way. It was meant to be. I would do it all over again.
When Jack was 10 months old, I had a dream. I was walking down a crowded New York street. People were everywhere. I noticed an old man with a fedora hat walking about a block away coming in my direction. I thought he was such a cute old man and smiled at him. I noticed that he seemed to be smiling back. As we came closer, I KNEW he was smiling at me. We eventually came face to face. He stopped and so did I. I looked at him and cocked my head in wonder. He smiled again and said, “Don’t you know….you are going to have a baby.” I woke up and told my husband. Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant after 5 years of trying. Oliver was born 9 months later. But that is a different story!
So my life had turned full circle. In 18 months, I had gone from an infertile woman to a mother of 2. God had answered my prayers just not in the way I had wanted. But, he knew better. He knew all along we were waiting for OUR children. My story has changed my life. It has changed my understanding of the way prayers are answered. It has given me a new knowledge of the love God has for me. It has taught me to be more accepting and supportive of those around me and the struggles that people deal with every day. But most of all it has taught me the true meaning of faith…to trust that God will do what is best for you even if you can’t see the ending. God knows.
The Faithful Fight for Family(Mandy Borgmeyer)
I was born to be a mother. From the time I could remember, I longed to be a mother. I would lovingly caress my dolls and rock them to sleep. I would change their diapers and wash their hair. I would take them on walks and hold them as they cried fake tears. They slept in my bed and went to school with me. I had my children’s names picked out in 2nd grade. I had been practicing my whole life to be a mother. So when I got married, my husband and I were eager to start our family. We started trying and a year came and passed and no baby. We watched as our friends all got pregnant around us, some welcoming the news openly and some not. We decided to seek help medically to see what could be wrong and how we could “fix” it. Well, there wasn’t anything that could cause our infertility, but that is what we were labeled as, infertile. I tried medication to increase fertility, I changed my diet, but most of all I prayed. Prayed for a miracle. A miracle that didn’t come. One year turned into 2. 2 years turned into 3. I watched as one friend, acquaintance or stranger after the other became pregnant time and time again and I was left to grieve. I was consumed with anger. 3 years turned into 4. Waiting. And more waiting. Nothing. At this point, I was depressed to the point I didn’t even recognize myself any more. Every aspect of my life suffered. I cried at work and couldn’t complete simple tasks, I rejected my best friends because there is no way they could understand my feelings and I was mad that they had beautiful children and I didn’t. I alienated my family who never seemed to be sensitive enough to my situation even though some days I wanted them to acknowledge my situation and others when they did screamed at how insensitive they all were. I holed myself in to darkness and let myself slip into grief. I cried myself to sleep each night as my husband tried to help. As year 4 came of this depression, we started to research our options. My husband and I decided we had 2 choices, invetro or adoption. I didn’t know how I felt about invetro but was angered that I had to give up my hope of having a child of my own, feeling the child inside of me and seeing the child for the first time and knowing they were mine. I was depressed that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my believed role as a woman and a wife. I went to talk to a trusted priest in hopes I would get an answer or at least be able to believe in God again. It is because of this priest that I have this story to tell. He made me feel blessed by God and hand chosen for a higher purpose through adoption. That not everyone could do this and that a child was waiting for me to be his mother, I was needed. It was the first time in years that I didn’t feel insufficient as a woman and forgotten about by God. So we decided we would adopt.
For those of you not familiar with how domestic adoptions go these days, we had to have our home inspected and go through interviews proving our compatibility as a couple and how we would discipline our non-existent child. We had to have 6 letters of recommendation. We had to put together an advertisement book that was given to possible birth mothers so that something would spark her interest. We put thousands of dollars into all of it. I again was upset that we had to go through all of this because we couldn’t get pregnant and anyone who could get pregnant just walked away with their baby. But, with my new mission of motherhood awaiting me, I stayed positive. Within 2 months, we are “chosen” by a birthmother. We emailed every day, I told her personal information and she became my friend. She told me about her family and stories of her childhood. Then after a month, I heard nothing. I contacted the agency and they couldn’t find that she had ever existed. It seemed we had been scammed . We over the course of months were matched with one birth mother after the other, which all fell through for one reason or the other. In October, we were matched with Emma who was due to deliver in April. I poured my heart into her. I again allowed myself to become friends with her. She would send me ultrasound pictures and we decided to name our baby, Jack. We shared our news at Thanksgiving that year. December came and after months of contact, the contact stopped. Again, I contacted the agency. They got back to me in the middle of teaching my first grade class. They told me that she had decided to keep the baby. I had included my class in this journey that year and as I got off the phone, I thought, “How am I supposed to tell them this.” I didn’t have to. One boy, saw my face and said, “It’s the baby isn’t it? She is keeping him, isn’t she?” Another girl comforted me by saying, Mrs. Borgmeyer, you take of us and you are like our mother, so you really have 19 children.” It was December 21st. As I listened to the readings during Christmas Mass of a mother swaddling her baby boy , I again became inconsolable. I remember completely giving up hope and laying in the dark for the next few nights on the kitchen floor crying for hours knowing my dream was over, I would have to live my life without the joy of motherhood. God had abandoned me and I had let my husband down.
Christmas came and went as I numbly went through it. The next day, I received a call from the agency saying that another birth mother had picked us and wanted to talk. So through email , I feigned interest and even copied and pasted questions and responses from previous birth mother conversations. Crystal was due to deliver in February. Every day we were expecting her to keep the baby, but as the due date loomed closer she was still steadfast in her decision. She was 24. She was living on her friends couch and had no family. She had never known her own father and she left home at 16 and never looked back. She had a part time job, but no high-school diploma. She had an abortion the year before and knew that she could never go through it again. She called us on February 16 saying she would be induced the next day. My husband and I dropped everything and flew to MA. We arrived at the airport at 4 am, landed and head straight to the hospital. We walked in knowing no one. We had never met Crystal in person. Crystal invited us into her labor room. The labor didn’t progress throughout the day. As night came, we were sent into the waiting room, and finally tried to fall asleep in the wee hours of the morning on the couch. A truly amazing nurse came and told us we could have a room to sleep until the baby was born. At 4 am, Jack was born. I was nervous about meeting him thinking what if I think he’s ugly, what if he doesn’t want me. This same nurse carried him into the room and handed him to us. We couldn’t breath. He was the most beautiful thing we had ever seen. She lifted up his hat and revealed fluffy, red hair. We held him and cried tears of relief and joy. Over the next 4 days, we stayed down the hall from Crystal in the hospital. At any moment, she could decide it was too much to give him up and keep him. On the second day, she asked for him in the morning and we heard nothing all day. We lost all sense of ourselves, knowing she was going to keep him. We called the social workers who told us the only thing we could do was wait. We left the hospital to try to calm our nerves. When we returned, the nurse met us at the door saying, “The birthmother has requested to speak with you.” So we went to our room and held hands. We agreed that this journey was over, but we couldn’t blame her or be anything but grateful and supportive. We silently walked down the hall to her room hand in hand. We knocked and entered. With a beaming smile she said, “Oh, good you guys are here. I told the nurse you could have him when you came back.”
On the night before Crystal would be released from the hospital and ultimately give up her parental rights, She called us into her room to take a picture. My parents had flown in and Crystal’s friends were there. We all took a picture as she held her baby. We began to dispurse afterwards, when she said, wait. I want one more. So we reassembled. But, she handed Jack to me this time and said, “I want one of Jack with his mother.” This is the kind of woman she is. I wanted her to have him because I knew she loved him more than I could ever understand. But, she gave him to me. The child she carried and loved. She gave him to me. It was the ultimate sacrifice. One that I don’t think I could ever make.
So after years of depression, hope, losing faith, I finally understood. God had answered my prayers just not in the time I wanted. He knew better. We received the perfect baby, one that completed our life in every way. It was meant to be. I would do it all over again.
When Jack was 10 months old, I had a dream. I was walking down a crowded New York street. People were everywhere. I noticed an old man with a fedora hat walking about a block away coming in my direction. I thought he was such a cute old man and smiled at him. I noticed that he seemed to be smiling back. As we came closer, I KNEW he was smiling at me. We eventually came face to face. He stopped and so did I. I looked at him and cocked my head in wonder. He smiled again and said, “Don’t you know….you are going to have a baby.” I woke up and told my husband. Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant after 5 years of trying. Oliver was born 9 months later. But that is a different story!
So my life had turned full circle. In 18 months, I had gone from an infertile woman to a mother of 2. God had answered my prayers just not in the way I had wanted. But, he knew better. He knew all along we were waiting for OUR children. My story has changed my life. It has changed my understanding of the way prayers are answered. It has given me a new knowledge of the love God has for me. It has taught me to be more accepting and supportive of those around me and the struggles that people deal with every day. But most of all it has taught me the true meaning of faith…to trust that God will do what is best for you even if you can’t see the ending. God knows.
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