When
I got to Quesnel, my mother brought me to a doctor. The doctor asked
me what I planned to do with my child. I said that I wanted to keep
the baby. He said that it would be best if I gave my child up for
adoption that I could not possibly care for an infant and that I
would be doing the best for my child and for myself. Being young
and naive, I believed doctors were God and that they knew what I
should do ... he was after all looking out for my best interests.
He then produced three resumes of prospective parents and told me
to pick a couple that appealed to me ... and since I was to give
birth soon I should choose the couple here and now. My mother at
the time was heavy in her addiction and could only agree with the
doctor.
I
remember looking at those resumes and crying, for no one in my life
was willing to help me care for my child. I picked a couple that
I thought most resembled me and the father. I also picked the couple
because they had another child adopted as well, and I wanted my
son to grow up in a family with siblings, for I come from a large
family. I went into labor that night, still unsure of what my decision
was.
After I delivered my son was carried directly out of the room ...
I did not even have time to look at him. They did, however, tell
me that I had a baby boy and his weight. They then brought me to
the other end of the hospital. I remember in the morning hearing
a baby cry ... though I am not sure if that was possible for I was
not even close to the maternity ward. I asked the nurse if I could
see my baby, she told me that it was best if I never see my son.
I was then told that I could go home.
My
mother come to pick me up from the hospital ... I was still dazed
from the heavy medication they gave me. When I was being discharged
they told me that I had to sign a piece of paper signing my baby
over to the doctor. When my mother asked they said that was proper
procedure. I remember looking down at this piece of paper ... it
was yellow and so small -- perhaps half the size of a regular piece
of paper. On it was written BABY HUNT-JOHNSON. I was so angry at
that, I crossed it out and put his name: Daniel Luke Hunt. I then
was discharged without anyone telling me how to care for myself
after the birth.
I
went into severe post-partum depression, and I don't remember the
time frame. I think about three weeks after I gave birth I was called
into the office of a lady lawyer in Quesnel. I do not remember what
she had me sign, and my mother was not allowed in. I was never told
about the adoption process, or had any information on my son. I
am now actively searching for any information on my son even though
the system says I am not "legally" entitled to it. It
saddens me that the system could so fail someone so trusting and
naive ... I wish I could go back in time ... I would have taken
my son and ran. Thank you for letting me share my story
Melissa
MacDougall