Only nineteen years old and my boyfriend tried to get me pregnant, against my wishes, and succeeded. It only took one time and I worried about it the whole time. I counted down the days until I was suppose to start my next period. When it was just two days before I was expected to start, I took a pregnancy test. I couldn’t wait. I prayed to God that I wasn’t pregnant. I wasn’t in the position to bring a child into this world, when I was still a child myself. That test, among two other ones all came back positive. That little pink line was so dark, there was no doubting it. The ironic part was that just a couple hours before I found out that I was pregnant, I also found out that my now ex-boyfriend had cheated on me and got another girl pregnant.
Honestly the first thing that went through my mind was, “I have to get an abortion”. There was no way that I was going to allow him to win. He trapped me. He did this to me on purpose. I couldn’t let him get what he wanted. I felt violated. Though I felt resentment towards him, my mind quickly changed. I thought about it more. It wasn’t the baby’s fault. He or she deserved to be given the chance at a life, even if that meant me dropping out of college and doing my best to give it a life that it deserves. I just knew one thing, he wasn’t going to know. But in fact that changed too. I ended up telling him. And honestly, I don’t know why I was surprised by how he reacted. I mean he was the one who wanted me to get pregnant. But I was. And he wasn’t. He was so overjoyed and it made me all the more angry. There was one comment that he made that really got to me, “Looks like we’re going to be having a baby together!” And the way he said it. It still gets on my nerves.
Shortly, I ran. I returned to college after a long and unexpected break. There I kept my secret. At my age, I felt ashamed. Like I would be frowned upon. I was going to try to hide it for as long as I could. So I returned to my normal routine, only to begin to have anxiety about how I was really going to care for my child and still go to school full time. With no father in the picture, and no job, or stable place to live once the baby was born; how was I going to do this? Honestly? Yeah, I could receive assistance from the government, but who was going to look after my newborn baby when I had to be on campus eight to ten hours everyday? How was I even going to afford a secure place for us to live?
So my mind again steered towards getting an abortion. But as awful as it may sound, the only way I could justify it in my head was to convince myself there wasn’t a living, growing, baby inside me. I had to look at it as, I had a medical issue I needed to take care of so that I could better my future. To give my future child everything that it deserves. I went three-fourths of my pregnancy with this state of mind. I was approaching nine weeks and I knew that I didn’t have long to come up with the money for the procedure. At ten weeks, with the help of my mom, I changed my mind again. But this time it was final, I was going to keep her! (The Chinese calendar predicted it would be a girl.) And I was relieved. I was happy. I was scared, but I didn’t feel ashamed anymore. I didn’t care who found out or what they would think. But my happiness was short lived..
The day I made an appointment, my first appointment, for an OB, I began to bleed. It wasn’t just spotting faint pink blood. It was more than that, it was bright red. I was so scared. I immediately rushed to the ER. Spent six hours going through all these tests: pelvic exam, ultrasound, blood work, etc..only to find out that my baby’s gestational sac was significantly larger than her, and she didn’t have a heart beat. The doctor told me that it was called a threatened miscarriage and that my possibilities of actually coming through this was less than 1%. I was devastated. All I could do was cry. I felt horrible. I felt that this was my fault somehow. I mean I spent the majority of my pregnancy not wanting my own baby. This had to be my fault. It had to.
I returned to the hospital a couple days later to do a follow up and sure enough my hormone levels dropped. It was real. There was no chance left. It was just now a matter of time. And the day I should have been eleven weeks pregnant with a healthy girl, it came. I began to have severe pains, pains that I’ve never felt before. They were cramps intensified to an unbearable level. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t move, but I also couldn’t sit still. The pains came and went, getting closer and closer together. I couldn’t imagine what labor felt like if this wasn’t it. I finally fell asleep around midnight, woke up a couple times to the pain, and then at exactly 2:45 am I knew. I rushed to the bathroom, pulled down my pants, only to find two large objects on my pad. It was the sac. It was the size of a gulf ball, and all I could do was sob. Tears welled up in my eyes and quickly ran down my face. I sat there for forty-five minutes, at least, sobbing more than I ever had in my life. I was traumatized. Nothing had prepared me for what I just went through or just witnessed, not even the doctor.
I didn’t sleep for more than three and a half/four hours that night, and I haven’t slept since. I have no desire to sleep. Yes, I’m tired, I’m exhausted, but I just can’t get that image out of my head. And honestly, I don’t know why I’ve told you all this. I just know that I needed to get it out, all of it, from the beginning; because I don’t know how exactly I’m going to get through this or when I’ll sleep again. But I do know, this WILL haunt me the rest of my life.