A Family to Raise Her
My Daughter Needed More Than I Could Provide.

By Jennifer Jeanne Olensky

It was as if all the glory of heaven was shining down, into my heart, my soul. This tiny miracle was the most beautiful child I had ever seen.

I cannot believe it has been 11 years since I said goodbye to my daughter. As I sit here looking at her picture, I think about how it all happened, and what led me to the choices I made.

Shortly after my 13th birthday, I went to live with my father, my mother’s will beaten by my own.

My father had always made me feel like "Daddy’s little girl," showering me with love. But when I was 5, my parents separated, and my dad disappeared for three years.

At the time, I believed his absence was my mother’s doing, and I embedded a hatred in my heart for her. I spent that time building my father up in my imagination. He was a king to me, he could do no wrong.

A Rough Life with Daddy

When I finally saw him again, my quest to live with him began. It led to bitter fighting between my mother and me, until the day she let go. When I arrived at Daddy’s, I thought I had what I had wanted for so long.

I was wrong. My Daddy loved me, he told me so every day. The only problem was his need for pills and heroin. Often we did not have food to eat. Eventually he began beating me. He would punch me in the head and knock me to the ground. As I lay on the floor waiting for him to finish, he would kick me in the back of the head and legs. Several times I thought I would die. By the morning he never remembered.

I knew I had to leave, but I really had nowhere to go. My mother would hang up the phone upon hearing my voice, so I turned to my boyfriend, Alex. I was 14, he was 18. He snuck me into his house some nights. Not wanting to get him in trouble with his family, I would often sleep in his car.

Alex was all I had. He told me he loved me and I believed I loved him. For three months I clung to him for my life. Then the police picked me up. They brought me to a Catholic group home for girls. After my first physical, I was sent to Rosalie Hall, a home for pregnant teens. That was the way I learned that I was pregnant.

Pregnant and Alone

When I told Alex, he said that if I didn’t get an abortion, he was washing his hands of the whole situation.

But I never even considered abortion. I wanted a family. At the time I had no one, and I guess I needed something to hold onto. When Alex told me he wanted nothing to do with a baby, I was upset, but also in denial. I didn’t believe that he would be so cold. I thought eventually he’d come around…but he didn’t.

The 30 other girls in Rosalie Hall, the aides who spent most of the time with us, the teachers, counselors, cleaning lady and even the cook welcomed me. They tried to be like family, but they were not. I had lost everything. I felt alone and scared.

Alex still insisted he loved me, which gave me something to hold onto. He kept in touch until I was about three months pregnant. Then he told me he couldn’t continue to be in touch. He said it was only because he was pretending to see this other girl so that his family wouldn’t find out I was pregnant with his baby. I was foolish enough to believe him.

Not Ready to Be a Mom

For the next two months, I thought mainly about Alex. But after not hearing from him for all that time, I began thinking about my baby. The more I thought about it, the more I knew I needed to give my child a good life. The hardest part was realizing I could not. I was alone in the foster care system, but I wanted my child to have a loving, supportive environment with a mother and a father.

At five months, I decided to give my child up for adoption. I told my counselor, Stephanie. We spoke about it several times. I knew deep within that it was right, but I decided not to tell anyone else. I knew the other girls would ridicule me, and the decision was hard enough already.

During the last few months of my pregnancy, Alex visited once and called twice. Each time he proclaimed his love for me. I believed all he said. I guess I needed to believe. Like with my father, in my eyes Alex could do no wrong. I spent every waking moment listening for the phone to ring, wishing he would call. Most nights I cried myself to sleep.

Choosing Parents for My Child

I felt alone and I knew, without a doubt, that my decision to give my child up for adoption was right. How could I allow a child to be subjected to the pit I had found myself in, abandoned by everyone I loved, and all those who claimed to love me?

When I was seven months pregnant I met Ann, a social worker with the adoption agency. She came to visit me several times. I told her I wanted my baby to have a good life. She did her best to assure me that everything would be fine.

Ann presented me with files of different families. Eventually I chose a couple who had been together several years, she a college professor, he a lawyer. From their file, I felt confident that they had a strong sense of family, with a marriage built on mutual love and respect. I knew they were the ones.

I Didn’t Want to Let Go of My Baby

On September 28, my labor started. On September 29, I arrived at the hospital at 9:30 p.m. I was alone, scared and in a world of pain. Looking back with the faith I have now, I believe God was with me, not only in those final hours of my pregnancy, but every step of the way. I cannot understand where all my strength and energy came from if not from God.

On September 30, at 1:46 a.m., I looked into my daughter’s eyes, and love, joy and happiness overwhelmed me. In the midst of all life’s tragedies my heart was singing. For the first time in my life, I felt true love. Over the next two days, I spent every possible moment with her. I never wanted to forget. I never wanted that feeling to fade.

Ann was supposed to pick her up on the third day. I was not ready to let go. I asked for three more days. Ann was reluctant at first, but gave in.

The evening before I was released from the hospital, Alex came to see us. I had called to inform him of her birth. I suppose he wanted to satisfy his curiosity. He held her and fed her. When he said goodbye, he left in tears, never voicing his feelings. It was devastating. Part of me wanted him to say, "OK, we are going to keep her!" But I knew it would not happen.

For the next few days after I left the hospital, I was living close by so I walked over about four times a day to see my baby. She was extremely quiet, I never heard her cry. She would let out a small noise, then put her fingers in her mouth. She fussed a little when hungry, but as soon as she heard my voice, she became very quiet and alert.

I Signed Her Away

Only a few days and I felt so connected. "How can I do this?" I thought. I asked Stephanie what would happen if I changed my mind.

"Foster care," was her response. "You did not apply for mother-child placement. There are waiting lists."

I thought about it and knew it would be wrong. She deserved an immediate warm loving environment, not the uncertainty I would face. Besides, I wanted her to have a permanent, stable home, and that was something I knew at the time I couldn’t provide.

The morning Ann came to get her, I had time for one feeding. As I held her, I spoke to her, studied, rocked and hugged her. After some time I settled her into the bassinet and rubbed her back as she fell asleep. Kissing her head I said goodbye. It was so hard to leave. I began to feel numb, just going through the motions, trying to stay strong.

Then we went to Stephanie’s office with Ann and Sister Diane, and I was presented with adoption papers. As they were explained to me, I sobbed, unable to stop. Sister Diane said, "That’s it! I will not notarize these papers. You are keeping your baby." Then Ann put the pen in my hand. That shocked me, and suddenly I stopped crying and signed the papers. I quietly walked back to my room and stared at the wall.

God Provides

I don’t remember much of what happened over the next several days. As I slowly resurfaced, I thought and thought. The most important thing I thought about was them-the couple, my daughter’s parents. Instead of thinking about my loss, I was able to imagine their joy as they set their eyes upon their child. I shared in their happiness and trusted that they would take this truly amazing gift and nurture her, love her.

Like I said, all of this happened 11 years ago. I have some pictures, and a five-page letter her parents sent me. In their letter, my daughter’s parents said that I was their angel sent from heaven, that I was a special person with the capacity to love in a special way. They believed I had a wonderful future ahead, and that God always provides a time to be happy.

I also sent a letter to them and one for our daughter when she is older. I know I will see her one day, and hope to develop a relationship then.

I know they are special people and that our daughter was the angel heaven sent. My future looks great, and God really does provide a time to be happy.

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