My name is Michaela and I would like to tell you my story. To say it straight away: my story is not a "perfect world"story. I have gone through major crises in my life and was almost always on my own. That is why I have had to make some decisions that many women will not understand. But everything I’ve done, I’ve done because I love my children and want them to have a better life.
But now from the beginning. It starts in 2015, the year I separated from the father of my two children. He and I had always worked full-time, while I managed the children and the household on my own after my job. This went on for years and at some point I became ill from the stress. I could no longer go to work and the relationship finally broke down.
As the father was no longer interested in his children after the separation (he hadn’t really been before), I moved 300 kilometres away to another city and wanted to start again. In mid-2016, I met another man who – as I only found out six months later – was in a committed relationship. I am not a woman who destroys marriages or relationships – so I broke up with this man immediately. And moved back to my former home.
Four weeks later, I realised that I was pregnant. I didn’t want to abort the child, but I also realised that I wouldn’t be able to raise this baby. I already had two children, I was constantly on the edge, it was hard financially and, above all, I had no support. I knew that the father of the unborn child would have no interest in the child and I realised that I wouldn’t be able to have another child.
I researched how and where you can give birth to a baby anonymously and read a lot about baby drop boxes on the internet. I wanted to know what would happen to the baby if I put it in there. I wanted to be sure that it would be found and that it would be looked after.
I kept the whole pregnancy a secret, wore loose clothes and just kept going to work. I didn’t talk to anyone about the pregnancy and never went to the gynaecologist.
One day in February 2017, four weeks before my due date, I realised that I was leaking amniotic fluid. I put my big kids to bed, then went into labour. I took a warm shower, laid out clean towels and got out the nappies and onesies I had secretly bought. At 9pm, the contractions got stronger and at 9.34pm my son Mika was born. A few minutes later, his twin brother Luca followed. Yes, I gave birth to twins. It came as a surprise to me too.
Both babies were fine. I let the umbilical cord pulsate out, then clamped it and cut it. I washed and dressed my sons, lay down in bed with both of them, cuddled them, looked at them, smelled them. Because I was so exhausted, I fell asleep.
When I woke up again, I wrote a letter. I wrote down what time they were born, what names I had given them and why I couldn’t raise these two babies. I wrapped the children up warm and took them to the baby hatch. I put the letter in with them.
I can only remember the next few days with difficulty. I had a fever and I was constantly plagued by a guilty conscience. I imagined how the two babies were lying somewhere all alone, that no one was rocking them to sleep, no one was cuddling them, no one was comforting them.
Three weeks after the birth, I rang the clinic and was immediately put through to the person responsible at the youth welfare office. We talked for a long time and met for a coffee two days later. She told me that the alarm went off as soon as I put the babies down. That the two children were checked immediately and that they were completely healthy and well. She told me that the paediatric nurses had cuddled them the whole time and that they were very sweet babies. There is also a couple who are ready to take the children in. They had already visited the boys in hospital.
We talked for a long time about whether there was a way for the babies to grow up with me. We agreed that we would meet again two days later and that by then I would think again about whether I really wanted to give the children up for adoption. When I went home, I was very relieved. The babies were doing well and would grow up together.
Two days later, I met with the youth welfare worker again. I told her that I agreed to an adoption because I didn’t have the strength to give these babies a good life myself. The Youth Welfare Office employee never made me feel guilty. She took away my feelings of guilt and said that the new family would take very good care of the boys.
Since then, we’ve met twice more. She told me how the twins were doing and promised me that she would keep me regularly informed by email. I have no contact with the adoptive parents – but if the twins ever want to know who I am and why I couldn’t raise them, I will be there to answer their questions.
It’s been over two years now. I have come to peace and know that it was the right decision. I am the mum of these boys and the most important thing for me was that they have a good life and parents who take good care of them. This wish has come true.
