“It started in October of 2016. He started talking to a friend of mine on Facebook. Well, she wasn’t really a ‘friend’ anymore, but a friend from my past who was a ‘Facebook friend’ at that time.
It started out innocent, but quickly turned to lies, secret conversations, and an emotional affair. He would delete his messages with her, he would talk to her on the phone while I was at work, he even hung a sheet up in the middle of the living room so I couldn’t see his computer screen if I was sitting on the sofa.
Fast forward to March of 2017. My mother was pretty sick and my parents decided to move to Georgia to live with my sister. He made the suggestion we move with them so we were closer to my mom in case something happened. I was ecstatic because I thought, ‘This could be our new start!’ I found a new job down in Georgia, and I moved there first and stayed with my sister and parents until I could find a house for us to live in.
That’s when it happened. The affair. I didn’t know until I drove to Pennsylvania to pick up my daughter and bring her back down to start school. He was supposed to pack the apartment and drive down in a moving truck the following month. My daughter slipped one day when we went out for ice cream. She mentioned her daughter’s name and how they went to the pool. Eventually, she told me this woman was in our apartment and slept in the bed with daddy. I was livid. I was confused. And I was PISSED.
The next several months, we went back and forth about what we were going to do. I found out in those months that his affair partner was pregnant and would have his first son. She even named him the same name he and I had picked out in case we ever had a son together. This was the type of thing you would think would break someone. I was broken, but apparently not broken enough to leave. I just wasn’t ready.
We tried to make it work. We went to one therapy session, but then he didn’t want to go anymore. After a while, things started to turn around. We moved to Virginia for another ‘fresh start’ and he would spend more time with me. He called me less names, and he would walk the dog and surprise me by picking me a flower and putting it in a cup for when I woke up that day. Eventually, he talked about wanting another child. I was hesitant and wanted to wait a year to make sure things between us were kosher. His words were, ‘Well, if you love me and you want to be with me forever, why not now?’ And so we started trying to get pregnant.
I had just gone off the Depo shot and was having trouble getting pregnant. Months went by with nothing happening. I finally went to my OB and she did some blood tests. She also prescribed some medicine to help regulate my period. Then we found out I wasn’t ovulating. On to Clomid I went. I took three rounds of Clomid before it finally happened.
December of 2017 is when I finally saw those two lines. Months of ovulation tests, tracking my temperature and the days we had sex on the Ovia app, and many failed pregnancy tests. The lines were finally there. I went to see the doctor the week before Christmas. They did an ultrasound, but it wasn’t super clear so they had me come back the next week. I was so happy because at least I could see a faint picture of my little bean.
The next week came and we had a second ultrasound. The ultrasound tech announced she could see TWO little beans. My exact response was, ‘Come again?’ It was at that moment I learned I was having twins. I was at that appointment alone. Little did I know, this is how my pregnancy would go from then on out.
When I got home, I surprised him with the ultrasound photo. At first, he didn’t believe it. Everyone would congratulate us, but suddenly he seemed so distant. He acted as if I wasn’t pregnant. I knew when he started communicating with his affair partner again. (I’m sure he already was during that entire year. He just got better at hiding it.)
Eventually he would panic. He would talk about how we couldn’t handle twins. How he couldn’t handle watching them while I was working. How we wouldn’t be able to financially support twins on top of the child we already had. (He hadn’t worked in many years and I was the only income we had). I spent time buying baby items. Many people from local Facebook sites donated cribs, swings, and clothing to me as well.
A month or two later, he left to go visit his affair partner. He called me one day and said he didn’t think we should have the twins and I needed to figure out what to do. I brought up adoption. I researched agencies and chose one that had great reviews and stories. I contacted the adoption agency myself. I completed the interview myself. I made all of the decisions myself.
He told me I needed to get rid of all of the twin baby supplies I had in the house or he wouldn’t come home. So I loaded every baby item I had into my car and went to the local thrift store to donate it all. My car was filled from the front seat to the end of the trunk. I almost couldn’t close the doors all the way. I continued to work full-time, be the primary caretaker of my then 8-year-old, and walk my 65 pound dog. Imagine a woman walking a huge dog at 32-weeks pregnant with twins!
The adoption agency did an in-depth search on me. Their attorneys found a baby shower wish list I had made when I thought we were keeping the twins. I had to explain it was made prior to the adoption decision. I went online and immediately deleted it. Weirdly enough, it felt like a piece of my soul died when I deleted it.
I found an amazing family who also lived in Virginia. I had lunch with them at a nearby restaurant, and I knew in my heart of hearts, they would be the family I would choose to raise my twin boys. (Yes, boys! They ran a blood test to find out the genders.) I kept in touch with the family, sent them ultrasound photos, and updated them on my appointments. I invited the adoptive mom to come to one of my high level ultrasound appointments. She was in awe. We also found out I had intrauterine growth restriction, IUGR, and I had a two vessel cord. We knew my pregnancy was high risk, and I was monitored multiple times a week due to my gestational diabetes. This came as a surprise. I was about 31 weeks.
My doctor was shocked I was choosing adoption. She told me I could do this on my own. She told me she would always be there for me, and to contact her if I needed to talk. She still treated me like a human, even after I told her I was sticking with my decision.
At 36 weeks, I went in for my usual checkup. The doctor said I was only an inch dilated and I probably had another week. The boys had other plans. I started to have contractions that night, but didn’t realize they were contractions. They just felt like stomach cramps. The next morning, the doctor had me come in because of the pain. My blood pressure was normal and everything seemed okay. But things progressively got worse, and my doctor told me to head to the ER. My doctor called the ER to notify them I was on my way and I needed to be seen immediately. I waited in the waiting area for 3 hours, even after my doctor called multiple times. Once being taken back, they learned my blood pressure had shot up to 181/100. I was admitted. And again, I was alone.
The doctor flipped back and forth about delivering the babies. They wanted to get my blood pressure down first, so I was on IV fluids and meds. They got it to go down a little, but it wasn’t budging any further. At first, they were going to wait until the next morning to deliver me, but they ended up delivering me that evening. My best friend came to the hospital and they allowed her to be in the operating room with me. I texted the adoptive family to let them know I was giving birth. They cancelled a trip they were supposed to be taking that weekend to come to the hospital. I had an emergency C-section and my two beautiful twin boys were born. They both weighed less than 4 lbs. and were taken to the NICU. I lost so much blood, I needed three blood transfusions.
Once I was finally well enough, they wheeled me down to the NICU to see my babies. They were in the incubators with so many wires and needles in them. I got to hold them and do skin-to-skin contact. They were so little. I even got to feed them inside of the incubators. It was so hard knowing I would not be taking them home from the hospital. But I knew this is what needed to happen. I had a broken home and I knew they deserved a better life. I spent a lot of time in that hospital bed alone, realizing this was not the way it is supposed to happen. But what I also realized was I am a strong woman for doing this on my own; going to all of my appointments alone while still working and making sure my daughter and my dog were okay.
Two to three weeks passed and the boys were finally able to go home. I had visited them during their time at the NICU. Their adoptive parents invited me back to the hospital on their discharge day. They paid for photos to be done at the hospital and I posed for photos with my boys and saw them pose with the boys as well. I got to give them snuggles and kisses and said my goodbyes. I walked back to my car in tears. Alone again.
It took everything in me not to text their adoptive mom right away. I waited several weeks before checking in. She would text me photos and tell me how everything was going. I am so glad she was welcoming and okay with my check-ins. I needed those. I needed to know they were alive and well.
I didn’t have any help with my recovery after my C-section. I was driving after three days and walking my 65 pound dog after a week. My daughter was too little to walk him, but she offered anyway! A year later, two months after I visited my boys, my husband and I split for good. Then I broke my leg and couldn’t walk for four straight months.
I met the love of my life 2 months after I broke my leg. He came and took care of my 9-year-old daughter and I. He walked our dog, made us dinners, drove me to my appointments, and cleaned my wounds. He treated me like a human being. He would surprise me with flowers just because. He would love me the way I was supposed to be loved the years prior. I appreciated not feeling alone for once. I appreciated that someone else cared about me.
My adoption is an open adoption. I receive updates every six months and have the option to visit my boys once a year at their birthday. Because of covid, we have had to settle for FaceTime visits the last two years. I wish I could hug them, but I know we are being safe. I wouldn’t want to risk their health.
I enjoy watching them grow. They both have their own personalities and looks! You wouldn’t even know they were twins. One has blonde hair and is a total lady’s man. The other has a full head of curly brown hair and is more interested in his fire trucks and cars. He looks just like his biological sister.
I hope that one day, I can visit them and they will understand who I am. I hope they will understand why I made the decision of adoption, and I hope they know how much I needed them and how much I love them.
Some of you may be wondering why I chose to have twins with such a broken relationship. I wasn’t ready to accept that it was over. I thought we were at a good point in our lives, and I thought the past was behind us. I started to emotionally separate when he told me I needed to consider other options during my pregnancy. That was a key point in my decision to start healing myself. These decisions can be difficult when you have children with someone and when you are so blinded by the amount of time you’ve been with them (15 and a half years!).
I believe I made the right decision, and even though some days I wonder what it would be like to have my twins here with me, I know I made the right choice.”
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