May 20, 2016
“Come on. Stop lying”
“You think I planned for this?”
“How sure are you?”
“Hospital visit sure”
I don’t think I have been more questioned in my life. I couldn’t blame him for grilling me to the highest degree. I was still finding the entire situation hard to grasp myself. The minute when I doubted reality is when God reminded me that it was all very true. Jeans became a little more snug and conservative shirts slowly converted their way to crop tops due to my growing tummy. It’s easy to imagine two teenagers arguing over what current rapper has the best lyrics out right now, which friend has the “freshest” kicks in their closet, or even have a bet going over which high school football team will win Friday night’s football game. That sounds like totally normal, minor kid stuff right? Now imagine two teenagers who both have no clue about adulthood (never owned a car, a job, and can barely recite their social security number correctly) discussing the expectancy of another life? It was a mess—a HOT MESS! My class clown of a high school sweetheart was now the father of my first child.
About two weeks passed and the conversations shockingly got easier with him and me. We still weren’t ready for a baby and nor did we have the courage to break our parents’ hearts. However, telling him somehow made it easier to deal with. It seemed like I wasn’t alone in this situation which gave me a brighter outlook on life. Truth be told, as time settled our worried minds, we began to play around with baby names.
“Rylee... If it’s a girl, then Rylee. Come on… What’s wrong with Rylee? It doesn’t stand for anything. It just has a ring too it.”
“Meisha no. The baby should have a dope name— what about Santana? Come on. What’s wrong with Santana?”
“How about we make a deal? If it’s a girl, then I name her. If it’s a boy, you can go for it.”
Clearly we didn’t have a clue about life let alone what it takes to raise a child! We went back and forth like big kids naming our new pet, but we were just that – big kids. Heck, to us the hardest thing about having a baby was coming up with a baby name. If you could’ve tapped me on the shoulder at that moment in time and told me about the journey I would soon face, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. In my fairytale mind set, I had already forgiven myself. It was a God’s honest mistake to get pregnant in high school. I knew that my opportunities may be limited. I accepted that people would look at me differently. I accepted that even teachers would look at me as a “failure.” However, a part of me kept telling myself that God makes no mistakes and that I could still achieve everything in life that I had goaled to do (Boy how this mindset been challenging to keep at times). Knowing that I had a partner that was going to be there every step of the way eased my mind as well. I trusted God. I trusted my child’s father.
God, I know that I have disappointed you. I have disappointed myself. I just need you to guide me right now. I can’t go another day without my mom noticing. I’m having trouble closing the buttons on my pants and I don’t think they make too many fashionable, flow shirts anymore to cover this baby bump that’s trying to grow! I am not ready! Thank you for at least blessing me with a supportive partner. He’s going to be a great dad, right? This is one of those situations that may initially be shocking but end up okay on down the road, right? Can you guide my words as I write this letter to my mom? If you help me with this, I promise I won’t ask for anything else God. Please. This one last favor is all I need. I really won’t bug you about anything else. (Says the girl that has called on God so many times since that moment and present day)
Aside from dealing with my own inner turmoil, I had greater thoughts on my mind. Here I was writing my mom a letter about my pregnancy when my little sister was facing much greater circumstances. I couldn’t stop crying. Tomorrow would be the day that my mom would drive my sister to a facility in Virginia for her diabetes. The thought of MY little sister having to be away for months to get better made me cry harder. I know I can’t miss school to go. Truth is, I don’t want to go. I can’t bare the departure when it’s time to leave her there. She’s my heart. I know the facility will help her regain her health, but hearts are heavy in my family over the entire situation. I’m scared for her. What if the other girls there are mean? What if she misses us (her family) too much to focus on getting better? God knows my mom is hurting over my sister the worst so I can’t dare tell her the news of my pregnancy face to face. That would just put the cherry on top of an already stressful time. I can’t hurt my mom. I can’t completely break her. Hopefully she will read the letter on the way back from Virginia and have time to cool off.