This has been along time coming. Through much prayer I have decided to post this for the hopes of finding my son. Looking for my adopted son. I am 51 years old and have a son and a daughter as well as stepchildren and grandchildren, whom I love with all my heart, but there is something missing. I would really love to know my other son is alive and well and have the chance to tell him that I love—and have always loved—him. This is my story. At the age of 18, I was pregnant and unmarried but living with the father of my baby, Tim. It was a bad relationship, and he wanted to put the baby up for adoption. Because the relationship wasn’t working, he moved out, assuming I would follow through with adoption once the baby was born. I moved in with my brother, but when the baby was born, I couldn’t go through with it. Steven Yant was born October 1, 1981, in Minneapolis, Minnesota. I desperately wanted to keep my son. In January, Tim wanted to try to make our relationship work and asked me to move to Arkansas with him, where his family was living. He told me it was okay that I kept the baby, so I loaded up my new baby and my other son who was born in 1980 and went to Arkansas to live with the father of my children. In time, the relationship went bad again, and I started preparing to leave him. Tim packed up all of my stuff and told me to get out. While all of this was going on, Steven was crawling and cut himself on some glass that was left on the floor. Tim’s brother took me and my other son to the store to buy a Band-Aid, while Tim stayed at the house with Steven. When we returned, he had locked me out of the house and taken Steven to the police department. I was frantic and went to Tim’s ex-stepmother for help. Together we went to the police department, but since it was Saturday, they had already placed Steven in foster care and told me they couldn’t do anything until Monday. On Monday morning I went to DHS, and they set a court appearance date. I moved in with Tim’s ex-stepmother so I could be close. During this time, I found out from Tim’s sister that he told her before I moved back to Arkansas that he was going to get rid of the baby. When he took Steven to the police department, he told them that I had dropped the baby off with him, that he didn’t know where I was going or when I would return. I was livid but young and naïve. I went to the court a week later at the set date only to discover the judge was out of town. The new date set wasn’t for another two months. During those two months, I tried to visit Steven once a week. Tim did everything he could to try and stop me, even tampering with my car so I couldn’t get anywhere. Later on, I also found out that the welfare department told my mother that they thought I had cut Steven, which is why they couldn’t give him back to me. I became an emotional and physical wreck. Not only was I dealing with all of this, I had another baby to take care of as well. At one point I dropped to 105 lbs. As a tall woman, I was skin and bones. My parents were worried about me, so my stepdad drove to Arkansas to get me and my other son and moved us back to Minnesota. I was so distraught about leaving Steven and not knowing how to get him that I asked my mom to kill me. I didn’t want to live anymore. So my mom put me in a psychiatric ward. The doctor told my mom that I was schizophrenic, although I didn’t know that at the time and it wasn’t true. My mom was so worried about me and didn’t see how I could raise a baby, let alone two babies, so she talked me into giving up Steven for adoption. I signed the adoption papers but wasn’t of sound mind when I did. Because of my naïveté, I still thought I could see Steven again if I got back with Tim, so I moved to Arkansas one last time. When I got there, I was told I would never see my baby again. My mom moved to Oklahoma with her job right after that. Devastated, I along with my other son moved in with her, and I started to get my life together. When Steven was 3 years old, I went to an attorney to inquire about visitation rights. The attorney told me that nothing about my case had been handled correctly. Legally, I should have been in court no later than five days after Tim took Steven to the police department. The attorney wanted me to try to get full custody, but I was worried about taking him out of a home with parents he’d known for two years. And deep down I didn’t think they would give him back to me. I was 22 years old, single, and broke. When it was all said and done, I truly wanted what was best for my baby. Here are the things I know about my baby’s adoption: He was born October 1, 1981, in Minneapolis, Minnesota. The mother’s name on the birth certificate is Justine C. Yant, unless the adoptive parents legally changed it. The adoption was through Benton County, Arkansas. The adoptive parents may have lived in Pea Ridge, Arkansas. I am registered in the Arkansas Adoption Registry. My mother and I both wrote letters to him years ago that we put into his file, should he ever decide to look for me. If you have any information about my son, please contact me. He is now 33 years old and at an age where he may want to know some details about his birth parents and siblings. And I would do anything for the chance to let him know that through all these years, he has been in my mind and heart.
Posted on: Sun, 28 Sep 2014 18:28:29 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015