Cat Lady
By Charity Myhre
I adopt cats. I don't mean to, but I have 4 cats in my small one
bedroom apartment. My husband rescued Taz from a snow bank in
February. Taz was shivering and scrawny and needed to be cuddled,
loved, and warm and have a full belly. So we have an eight-year-old
fat tabby. Molly was my mother's cat. Mother moved to another city
and left the cat at my house the day she moved. Molly was skittish
and hated men and refused to leave the bathroom for 3 weeks. She was
abused by my brother and didn't understand that not all people are
mean.
Since we adopted her she is a social creature who loved people
but is a bit of an attention hog. Imhotep was 2 when I got him. My
friend Danielle's 4 year old son thought pit bulls and kittens were
the same and you can just body slam them no matter what. Oh and he
took away the cats water bowl all the time because he figured the cat
could drink out of the toilet. I grabbed the cat and took him home
after watching videos one night. He is now a desk kitty who
understands that he cannot stand in front of the monitor. (who said
cats are dumb) Gnoff has one day to live at the animal shelter. He
was a runt and has HUGE ears and looks more like a mouse than a cat.
No one wanted him because he looks weird. I took him home and he now
a ferocious hunter of blanket mice.
Now you may be wondering what this has to do with adoption. In fact
you may think that I am just the crazy lady down the block with too
many cats; well, your right about that last one but that's a moot
point. I rescue cats because I believe that all life deserves the
best chance possible at life. My cats were unwanted, sickly,
anti-social beasts that everyone though weren't good enough to live.
Everyone was wrong. My philosophy stems from the basic fact that when
I was growing up I was abused and told I wasn't good enough to have a
happy fulfilling life. They were wrong too. I am good enough. My son
is good enough too. You see, I am a birthmama to an amazing little
boy names Tyler.
I never meant to be a mom. In fact I did everything in my power to
prevent such a thing. I had all the right check-ups and had been on
Depo-Provera for more than 3 years. That seems pretty fool proof and
I am no fool. I was fully aware that I was not emotionally stable
enough to raise a child. I was barely keeping myself alive much less
a productive member of society. As you can imagine finding out I was
3 months pregnant was a shocker. No, shocker is an understatement. I
was terrified and knew to the core of my soul that I wasn't ready to
be a mom. I knew that I had not dealt with enough on MY issues to
force them upon a child who wanted nothing more than to be hugged.
Being raised in an abusive home I knew exactly how I did not want him
to be raised and I knew that didn't have the role models to show me
the right way to raise kids. So I took a walk to the local Birthright
place and asked to talk to a pregnancy counselor. They gave me 3
numbers, to which I made three appointments.
Appointment one: Met with the pregnancy counselor. Mentioned
adoption. Was immediately told that if I really loved my child I
would parent no matter what. Walked out.
Appointment two: Met with adoption counselor. Was told that if I
didn't want the baby I shouldn't have gotten knocked up. Walked out.
Appointment three: Met with counselor. She gave me a hug and said she
knew that I was scared and needed some to talk to and she was there
for me. I sat down and started crying. Thus began my relationship
with Joyce.
Two things freaked me out about going to see Joyce. First and
foremost, she was with Catholic Charities. I am not catholic at all
so this seemed strange. Secondly, Joyce treated me like a real
person, no, she treated me like the grandmother I had always wanted.
We talked about adoption and she explained the basics but she focused
of parenting. She said, "you have already made the choice to do the
best thing for this child. Now you have to decide what that choice
will be". Over the next few months I did a lot of research on the
net about adoption. I found out about open adoption and I knew all
the legal aspects of it. I remained steadfast in my desire to place
my son in an open adoption.
I knew that at that point in my life I couldn't handle being his mom.
I would either turn into a frazzled mean woman who resented the kid
for just being there and being a burden. Or I would smother him with
protection until he lad lost his entire creative spark. Either way I
would not be a good mom and my son deserved the best.
When I was about 7 months pregnant I looked at profiles of adoptive
couples. Joyce gave me three. The first couple was farmers and wanted
a ton of kids to raise on the farm to be 4H members. I am a city girl
and wanted my son to not be raised as a hick. The second couple was a
computer programmer and his stay at home wife. They wanted to raise
kids to "fill the hole in their lives that only a child can fill". My
child will not heal you. Ever. The third couple did not talk about
their professions or their needs but rather described each other's
personality. And they had a cat.
There were 7 pictures of their cat
in the profile. I knew right then and there that they loved each
other enough trust and communicate and they had a cat. And ANYONE who
can love a cat can love a child. And cats are more work. Dave and I
took the profiles home.. but we both knew on instinct that the third
couple was the one. I informed Joyce of that and said I wanted to
meet them but she said that they couldn't do that because she wanted
to make sure that I didn't change my mind and feel guilty about
bringing their hopes up. Now while this makes sense, in retrospect I
should have demanded the meeting. C'est la vie.
Skip to the future, I gave birth to my son on Oct 30, 2000. He was
the sweetest most adorable child ever, and yes I know all moms say
that. When I had him with me in the hospital I explained to him why
he was going to have new parents and why I wasn't going to raise him.
I also told him how much I love him and that he was just perfect. I
wanted him to know that I didn't choose adoption for him because he
wasn't good enough. I choose adoption because I was not the right
woman to be his day to day mom.
Kids are like cats. All of my cats are perfect special creatures.
They just needed to have caretakers who are ready and able to deal
with them and their special needs. Kids need parents who are ready
and able to do the day to day job of raising kids. That doesn't mean
anyone loves them less, just someone other than the first-parent was
ready and able to do it. I am a good mom to my cats because I know
what they need. I am a good mother to my son because I know what he
needs to grow up with the best of everything.
Copyright 2002 by Charity Myhre
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"No Right Click" provided by: Dynamic Drive
All written content copyrighted by Skye Hardwick © 2002
