Birthmother Searching for Baby Boy Buettgenbach

I met Stan at a Caldwell/Nampa High School football game the Fall of 1965 when we were junior high students. During his eighth grade basketball season at Jefferson Junior High, Stan gave me his "ring". We were one another's first love--a love that has stood the test of time and trials. The summer after my junior year (Stan's sophomore year) I gave birth to our son at the old Nampa hospital.

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Prior to my pregnancy becoming "public", I sewed empire style dresses with center front panel fullness to cover my increasing size. I was a very thin 5'7. I remember one day in class when my breasts began to leak--wetting clear through my bra and fabric. My classmate Steve B. (sitting alphabetically, we were often seated one in front of the other), tactfully and very kindly made me aware of the problem.

Once my family discovered my pregnancy, dad told me it was too late for an abortion and that adoption was the only option. My two older sisters were supportive during this time; but my younger sister, naturally, was embarrassed about my pregnancy. She was in the same class as Stan. Shopping by myself that summer, I bought two sleeveless maternity blouses and one pair of polyester pink shorts. I have bittersweet memories of those clothes and the dreamsicle bars Stan would buy me.

Adoption was not my first choice. I had every intention of keeping my child even after my father had made his decision. Spring and Summer of 1968 were filled with daydreams of a future for my child and me. Eventually, though, reality set in. The attending physician, Dr. Borron, knew of a couple wanting to adopt and the adoption process was set in motion. As my time neared, I knew adoption would be best for our child. However, knowing it didn't ease the pain of loss.

I believe it was Friday evening, July 19, 1968, when Stan's sister, who was home from college, and his mother visited me at my parents' residence. Stan's sister brought me a magazine with an article about "open" adoption. After they left, I sat up in bed reading in earnest the adoption story. At some point during the night, I began to experience lower back pain.

At the Nampa hospital I remember lying on a table and being completely naïve about what was happening to my body. The nurses discussed me as if I wasn't even there. When my water broke, one nurse commented that "today's" girls were so knowledgeable about the process. Nothing could have been further from the truth. Water gushing from between my legs was a big surprise to me. I don't remember ever conversing with anyone or crying out. I do remember my father holding my hand until I began squeezing his very tightly and they wheeled me away.

If my memories are correct, Baby Boy Buettgenbach came into this world on July 20, 1968 at 6:45 a.m., weighing seven pounds. I clearly remember the nurses guessing at the time because they had failed to record it. A few days later after repeatedly asking to see him, my son was brought to my room. He was a beautiful baby with very short, light brown hair lying neatly on his sweet little head. Holding him and knowing I was losing him was totally overwhelming. Bursting into tears, I abruptly handed him back to the nurse. She was annoyed with me and commented that I never should have seen him. The next day, believing I had my emotions under control and desperately wanting to hold him once more, I asked to see my son. I was told I would not be allowed to see him again. I was crushed. I went to the nursery a few times, but his bassinet was apparently out of view.

About a week after giving birth to Baby Boy Buettgenbach, my parents arrived to take me home. I had been given curlers to set my freshly washed hair and a new sleeveless orange and cream checked culotte dress to wear. During the drive to Caldwell where we lived, dad made a stop I hadn't expected. It was a courtroom or an attorney's office and I was given papers to sign. I remember being humiliated that I was in curlers, devastated that I was signing away my child, and unable to face anyone in the room. I did glance up at one point peering through my tears at the woman who I assumed would be the mother of my child.

Stan and I married on December 31, 1970. Our children were told about their brother, Baby Boy Buettgenbach, when we felt they were old enough to understand. In particular, I believe our second born son feels a need to know his brother.

I thought I would never forget anything about the day when I gave birth to my first child. The pain of losing my son was often too much to bear. As time passed, some information has grown fuzzy. Also with time, the pain has dimmed.

When I think of Baby Boy Buettgenbach today, I imagine a young boy looking much like his brother did at that age; but my first born is now an adult. I loved Baby Boy Buettgenbach before I ever held him in my arms. I love him still. I pray his adoptive parents have loved him as well and that he has been happy.

I also pray this isn't the end of my story.

Medical Information

Stan had two surgeries about 15 years ago. The first surgery was to fuse cervical vertebrae. The second surgery was to remove a portion of the cervical vertebrae to relieve pressure on his spinal cord. A few years later it was discovered that our younger son had a congenital brain malformation, Arnold-Chiari. Emergency surgery was done to remove a portion of his skull and cervical vertebrae to relieve pressure on his cerebellum, brain stem and spinal cord. It is likely that these problems were hereditary. In addition, there is an extensive history of cancer in my family as well as Stan's.

July 12, 2003, Stan and Sandra were reunited with their birth son, Douglas Wayne Frost. Their son celebrated his 35th birthday with them on July 20, and they continue to have a close relationship.

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