That is why I managed to forget about the pregnancy until the sixth month. I withdrew from my friends two months before the birth. It could not be overlooked any longer. Luckily it was winter and I could wear a jumper.
I never would have thought that something like that would happen to me; such fear, such doubt, in my late thirties and well educated. I didn't have a plan for 'afterwards'. Some evenings I sat in front of the computer in the hope that I would find a solution on the Internet.
I took my annual holiday shortly before I gave birth. I brought a little boy into the world in my living room. For two days I cuddled and played with him before saying goodbye. On the third day, I headed for the hospital. I wanted to hand him over there and leave again straight away, but a female doctor offered me a medical examination and informed a counsellor. They asked what the child was called, and asked for a letter, a cuddly toy, a strand of hair:something for the child to remember his mother by, and even if I really didn't want to talk about my situation. That was the first time I really cried.
I wanted my son to grow up in a proper, loving family. That is why I decided upon an adoption. I was allowed to meet the adoptive family nine months after the birth. That was very important to me. Since then, I have been receiving letters and photos via the adoption agency on a regular basis. I disclosed my personal details so that one day he will be able to find me.