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Peaceful

I had a decision to make. 9 months ago, the most terrifying thing I could imagine happening to me happened.
I got pregnant.
It wasn't the first time. After all, I already had two little girls who I love with all my heart.
And I love babies. They are miracles. They are gifts. They are beautiful.
I was in the midst of a painful and tumultuous divorce and I became pregnant out of stupidity and recklessness. It was the worst possible scenario I could imagine. So I had a decision to make.
Adoption seemed like the only way. It would be a penance, I thought. I would give up this precious gift. He was unplanned, but I always wanted a little boy. I knew the second I found out that I was pregnant that he would be a boy. I knew more out of cynicism and bitterness. It would hurt more if it was a boy, so I was certain it would be. I was right.
We chose a couple, who are two of the most lovely people I've ever met. I distanced myself as much from my womb as I could. I didn't think about it. I pushed through. And when he would move or kick, or I would contemplate or envision that moment in the hospital or the days and weeks to follow, my emotions ran wild or shut down completely. My ex said that if I was pregnant, he would contest the divorce or I could stay with him and "save face". I was afraid of him poisoning my other children against their sibling. I didn't want the baby to grow up without a father and his father wasn't ready or able to be a dad to him. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to do it. My ex had emotionally, psychologically, and financially crippled me and I was afraid.
But sometimes we have to act in the face of fear and find our own bravery.
I broke the adoptive couple's heart the day I decided to keep him. I hurt his father. I'm risking him growing up in the shadow of an abusive ex husband. And I doubt my own strengths and my decision 10 times a day.
Every choice I've made comes with a regret. I used to want to live life without regrets, but that's not how it works. Every choice has a regret, a "what if" attached. There's always the mirage of the other path floating around in my mind.
What finally gave me a modicum of peace was the tiny seed of a thought that whispered "He's not a gift for someone else. He's a symbol of God's grace for you, even in the midst of heartache. You are not being punished. He's your child and you are his mother."
To believe that God can forgive us and even generously give us what we don't even remotely deserve maybe can help us forgive ourselves. Maybe eventually I'll be able to forgive myself.
My baby boy is sleeping next to me. Every day is a process. Every day I doubt and question. But he and my two girls give me something to live for. God knows we all need purpose in this life and He saved mine by giving me my children.
They are my most treasured gifts.

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