Tranquilspirit’s Weblog

Something happened today.  I got a phone call that triggered off a series of memories that I am compelled to share.  So, bear with me and let’s take a trip…

I was seventeen, alone in my bedroom and scared to death.  The stick has just turned blue.  As my heart began to race, I pondered my next move.  The thoughts were racing in my head; I had no one to turn to.  I couldn’t tell my boyfriend, he had proven himself to be unstable to say the least. I couldn’t tell my mom.  I couldn’t tell my brother or sister because they would have to tell my mom.  I couldn’t tell my friends, they would tell my ex-boyfriend.  So, I kept my mouth shut. 

As the days turned into weeks, I knew that I couldn’t keep a secret for long.  My mom was getting very suspicious.  I know that I should have told her, but after all it was the mid 80’s, in the middle of the heartland, and no one had a more conservative mother than I did.  I guess underneath it all, I was afraid to tell her, I didn’t know how she would take it.  I kept thinking it was almost graduation, almost time for me to move out; maybe just maybe, I could make it until then.  

Graduation came and went, there wasn’t much of a summer since beauty school had a term that began in early June.  By now I had moved in with my sister in my hometown, away from where my mom was.  It was easier and easier to think that no one knew, but they all did, they were waiting for me to admit it to myself. 

The day came, and I could no longer hide my growing and expanding self.  I had to go to the doctor and find out how far along I was.  As I sat sobbing on the end of the exam table, the doctor told me that I was now seven months along, and everything looked good.  He assured me that telling my family was not going to be the end of the world, and there were options.  Through my tears and fear, I could see nothing but the disappointment and shame I had brought to my family. 

I told my sister first.  She told me that I had to go and talk to mom.  I waited until evening, and I went to see her.  It was not a conversation that I really want to re-live, but in order to get this all off of my heart, I need to.  My mom was devastated.  She asked me whose baby it was and I told her, which maybe was not the thing to do at the time.  She asked if he knew and I told her no, and I had no plans of telling him, ever.  The instability in his life was something that I knew I did not want for my baby.  It was that statement that rocked the house.  My mom went ballistic.  It was at that point, she told me to “get rid of it”.  When I tried to tell her that it was too far along, that not only would the baby die, I more than likely would as well, even if I could find someone to terminate the pregnancy, she said she didn’t care.  I know now that rage, fear, and shame drove her to that point, but when she said it, it made a mark on my heart that took years to see through. 

After a while, she calmed down, and then she told me that there was no way I could even consider keeping this baby.  It was at that point she told me that if I even considered it, that she would take my car, kick me out of the house that I was sharing with my sister (which she owned) and stop paying for beauty school.  She offered no more than that…..except that I created this mess, and I had to be the one to figure it out. 

As I drove away from her house, I could feel the baby stirring in my belly.  The little feet were pressing hard against my ribs.  It was almost as if the baby wanted to escape as badly as I did…..