Final Copy of Northwestern Essay!!

I am responding to prompt number 3 on the Northwestern application: "An old expression says, "what is right is not always popular and what is popular is not always right." Give an exapmle of a time when you made a choice that was not popular, but you felt was right. Why did you make this choice? What happened as a result?"


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In my small town, public opinion prevails, so when I became pregnant at fourteen, everywhere I went everyone told me exactly what they thought. Two main opinions prevailed: either I should “have an abortion to spare myself and the baby pain,” or “keep the baby, because that’s okay now.” Nowhere did I hear anything about the choice I wanted to make, adoption. Everywhere I went, not only was I judged for being young and pregnant, but also because I was giving my daughter up. However, I knew my choice was better for us, and stuck to it.

I originally planned on placing my daughter in an open adoption at birth, where the child knows they are adopted, and the adoptive family and the birth parents keep in touch. However, circumstances intervened, and legally I could not place my daughter for adoption when she was born. For seven months, she was home with me.

Painfully, I turned into Mommy instead of just her birthmother, and I loved it, and loved her. I loved how she smelled, how she felt. I loved playing with her, singing to her, even changing her diapers made me smile. I watched her grow, watched as she outgrew the clothes I had worn as a baby, and watched her realize what things were, who I was. I almost cried when she’d turn to me instead of anyone else, when she claimed me as her Mommy. Despite the joy I found in being Mommy, deep down I knew it was best for both of us if she was adopted. Once things worked out with the courts, I kept to my original decision, and decided to place my child with a loving, caring, wonderful family. I then faced the realities of my choice.

I gave my daughter away the Friday before Mothers' Day.

After I handed my daughter to her new family, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't move. All I knew at that moment was my baby girl was gone, wasn't mine anymore. Never could anything else hurt so much- I couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything, because my baby was gone. Packing her clothes, stroller, and crib away felt like burying her. As I drifted through the next few days, I clung to the knowledge that she was in a better place now, with a real mommy and a real daddy, a real family who could give her what I never could. Time passed, and I learned to deal with the hurt and loss, and almost rejoiced in her new life. I exchanged emails with her adoptive parents, and even visited with them. My friends grew to respect my decision, my teachers acknowledged the strength and maturity I gained from my choice, and my community respected what I had decided, despite their gossip and ominous forebodings. Also, I learned that although I may bear this loss for the rest of my life, I have given my daughter everything I could.

I named her Hope.