"Unfortunately, I Had to Give My Baby Up for Adoption" – Women Who Discovered Their Pregnancy Late

I gained just five kilos (about 11 lbs), which I blamed on lack of exercise—no one noticed. Due to PCOS, my periods were already rare; I’d even gone nearly a year without one. Then one morning, I woke up with terrible cramps and took a taxi to the ER, where I found out those were actually labor pains. They rushed me to delivery before I could even call my husband. I honestly thought the doctors were mistaken until they placed the baby on my chest. Tears of joy flowed because after years of unsuccessful IVF, we had given up hope for our own child. I just told my husband to come to the hospital—and he nearly fainted when he saw our daughter.

I immediately booked a flight to England, where abortion is legal up to the 24th week.

I accepted my fate and gave life to my son. Being a single mom isn’t easy, but he’s my everything, and I’ve never been happier since he came into my life.

My period continued throughout, which doctors say was likely pregnancy-related bleeding. I noticed swelling in my legs in the fifth month—that’s when I got suspicious. I wasn’t in a position to keep the baby, so I gave her up for adoption right there in the hospital to a kind couple who had a child with disabilities. Sometimes I check on them on Facebook. Sadly, their little boy passed away at three, but my daughter is now eight, healthy, and beautiful. I believe fate intended for her to be theirs.

We sat down to talk. We’d been together for five months, and the baby was probably conceived during one of our very first times together. We decided to try raising the child together—and it turned out we love being parents. Our son is eight now, and we’re happy.

I was almost halfway through my pregnancy before I realized. Back then, my partner and I lived a wild life—we drank, smoked, and partied a lot. When we found out I was pregnant, we both quit all harmful habits immediately and have been model citizens since. Our son is now in seventh grade, healthy, with only minor learning challenges. I blame myself because I’m convinced it’s due to the alcohol and weed.

I panicked when I found out I couldn’t terminate the pregnancy, but my sister and her husband sat down with me. They had been trying IVF unsuccessfully for years and said they would raise the child. I agreed, and it was the best decision of my life. It worked out for everyone: I kept my freedom since I don’t handle restrictions well, and they became the happiest, best parents the child could have. I know she’s my daughter, but I never think of it that way—I just love and treat her like my niece.

When I told my boyfriend I was pregnant and that abortion was no longer an option, he assured me he loved me and would stand by us. But when I came home from work the next day, he was gone without a trace.

My partner accused me of deceiving him by not telling him about the pregnancy until it was too late. I told him I was finishing my second degree via correspondence and had just landed my dream job—did he really think I wanted to have a baby right then? Two days later, he got down on one knee and proposed. I told him to get lost.

The child was fathered by my university professor, so I told him to take responsibility. Since he had a family, he did everything he could: arranged for me to stay in a friend’s small apartment in Italy for six months (I told my family I was going abroad to study) and made sure the baby would be taken away as soon as I gave birth. I never held or saw the child—that was my choice—and they took the baby straight to the new parents. That was almost 20 years ago, and I rarely think about what might have become of them. I don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl.

Photos: istockphoto.com