my story…part one

This week we share our stories in our group.  It’s funny when you get right down to the specifics of the story it takes a lot of emotion to relive the details.  It becomes real once again.

Here is my story.

It was almost 20 years ago when I put the paper from Planned Parenthood on the table before I went to work.  I came home afraid of what he would say.  I was 18 living in a different state…all alone except for my boyfriend and his father, both who were abusive toward me.  When I got home later that night he had made me  macaroni and cheese for dinner.  My favorite.  I don’t know what I expected, anger maybe.  But not this.  We started calling each other mommy and daddy and talking about marriage.  He wanted to do things right.

But that was only the beginning of the story.

We told his father I was pregnant.  From that point on it was all his dad could do to poison his son’s mind and scare him with ideas of child support to making decisions to buy diapers instead of things he really might want.  Finally they both ganged up on me.  I remember sitting in the back of a vehicle in his dad’s driveway with him and his father in the front seat pressuring me to abort.  (Now I want to pause and say that I am not putting all the blame on them alone.  I am merely telling the story.  I know that I take most of the blame, it was after all my choice.  But these are the real pressures I felt at the time.)

I held out for hope.  Maybe his mom would be more supportive.  She had always been sweet to me and loved me unconditionally.  But the only support she offered was to pay for it.  I was crushed.  I know now looking back that she probably didn’t want me to end up like her.  It wasn’t that she had a bad life, but she did have a hard life raising a child on her own.

I still stuck to my answer.  I AM NOT GOING TO HAVE AN ABORTION.  But soon it was too much.  Too much anger, fighting, pressure.  Too much “if you have this baby, I will leave you.”  I can still feel those emotions when I gave up on myself, my child.

Fine I said.  The anger seething from every letter in the word.  Fine, we will do it your way.  I felt dead inside already.

4 responses to “my story…part one

  1. Ugh. Tears for that young girl. I am so sad that she didn’t receive the support she needed and deserved.

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