When I was a young girl, I would dream of someday being a wife and mother. I would lie in bed at night and think of my future family. I wanted a big family. And a husband who loved me completely.
I would also lie there at night, thinking about the first time that I’d tell my future husband I was expecting. He would come home from a long day a work to a white house with green shutters. I’d have a candlelight dinner waiting. I even knew what I’d serve: baby back ribs, baby carrots and baby peas.
I would be glowing—not from the candlelight, but from the “joy of expectancy.” My husband would glance at me from across the table and cock one eyebrow. I would nod enthusiastically. We’d embrace, and then we’d head to J C Penny’s to pick out our first baby outfit! It would be perfect.
But what really happened, years later, was quite different. I was riding home from the doctor’s office with my mom. We were both silent. Tears stained her cheeks, and stained mine also. As we drove, I saw a familiar car heading in the other direction.
“There he is,” I said, pointing.
My mom turned the car around and we followed him to the McDonald’s parking lot. There was another girl in the car. I jumped out and motioned for him to join me. She looked the other way. He followed me toward the brown-topped, garbage can. This was the person who not long before had professed his love for me. Now his gaze was cold as ice. After dating for three years, things had not been going well lately. The girl in the car had something to do with that. But my own longings for “true, ever-lasting love” also made me unsatisfied.
“I’m pregnant,” I told him.
His expression didn’t change. “You’re lying. I don’t believe you.”
My hands protectively covered my stomach. “Fine, don’t believe me. I don’t want anything to do with you anyway. I don’t need you. This baby doesn’t need you.” That was one of the last times I talked to him.
I was seventeen. One day I was your typical high school senior. I was an honor student, a cheerleader, and a yearbook editor. I worked part time at McDonalds to pay for gas for my used Dodge Colt. The next day, I discovered I was a mother-to-be.
Read the rest of my story HERE!
Read the rest of my story HERE!
*Photo credit: Image courtesy of maya picture / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
