My story

Well, where do I start? The adoption process in itself is a long and complicated one with many complex factors. Each story I have read or heard of is unique, sometimes incredibly sad, sometimes they are tales of happy endings. I guess mine is a mix of the two.
I was a teenage parent twice over, finding out I was pregnant for the first time at just 16 years old. I never even entertained the option of adoption or abortion and my parents were incredibly supportive. I gave birth to my first daughter, she was a beautiful dark haired baby weighing in at over 9lbs! 

My life was quite difficult at the time, I left college and became a stay-at-home mum, with my own parents helping me out where they could around their jobs.

Aged 18, my daughter and I moved out into our first home, I was still with my partner at the time but he didn't move in with us initially. He was only in his late teens at the time too and chose to stay home with his parents and help out with my daughter when he was free. At this point, our relationship was up and down but we chose to stay together to raise our child. At the time I developed post-natal depression, however, in hindsight, I was probably just struggling with the circumstances of being such a young parent and moving out of my family home and away from my support network.
I began anti-depressant medication and tried to get myself back on my feet, I enrolled at a local college and began studying childcare as I had always wanted to work with children and families. We eventually all moved in together but the cracks began to show quite quickly. We argued a lot, I wanted the traditional family set-up that I had been brought up in, but his focus was more on seeing his friends and going out a lot, which I guess is fairly typical of his age at the time.
At just 19, I found myself to be pregnant again, somewhat naively I thought this would bring us closer together however, it had the opposite effect. Shortly before I turned 20, I gave birth to my first son. He had much less hair and much lighter hair than my daughter and the most beautiful eyes. He was slightly smaller than his big sister, weighing 8lbs on the dot at birth.
My daughter took to the role of 'big sister' incredibly well having just turned two years old. She would sit and talk to him for hours on end and help me out by getting nappies and wipes for him. Bath times were always my favourite as they would both sit and play together with their rubber ducks, laughing and giggling before I settled them for the night. 
Looking back now, I wish I had spent more time appreciating these moments, as I had so much going on in my relationship with their father at the time, I often rushed around on auto-pilot, forgetting to take a moment to appreciate them for the beautifully inquisitive and playful little humans that they were.
The relationship problems continued after the birth of my son, my partner was often home late, he was out drinking a lot and spending what little money we had on other things. I guess he may have felt trapped himself by this family we had created together, rapidly growing when we were still children ourselves. He gradually became more controlling, more agressive and would sneak out of the house in the night to meet up with other girls. I turned a blind eye to most of it in a desperate bid to keep our family together. However, by the age of 20, I had decided I had had enough. I moved out to a small terrace house in the next town and secured my place on an apprenticeship writing articles for a magazine, a complete career change from working with children. It really did feel like a breath of fresh air and I found myself becoming more confident, more organised and spent some well deserved time focusing on my 2 children around work. 
I remember walking home one day from the office when I realised my period hadn't arrived, I spoke to my friend that evening and she reassured me that it was likely due to the stress of leaving the relationship and moving house whilst starting a new job, but to put my mind at rest, I should probably take a pregnancy test. I felt relived, she was probably right, but to be sure, the next day after work, I called to the local supermarket and picked up a pregnancy test and took it home.