Well I must say, it’s not easy writing all this down for whomever to read, but I’m thinking that it might do me some good. Sometimes it just gets to me and I can’t think straight. I thought I knew enough and it came back to bite me in my ass. I should have known better, but I guess everything happens for a reason right? By this point you must be terribly lost, so let me start at the beginning.
I was thirteen at the time and the only girl in a family with three older brothers. I was a great student and a pretty good daughter. It was the end of May in the year 2000 and I’d just graduated from Oak Village Middle School. During this time I was staying with my grandmother on weekends so she wouldn’t be home alone. Little did I know that one of those weekends would change my life forever.
It was the day after the graduation, and I was feeling more like myself because my period had ended a couple of days earlier. I was getting ready to go to my grandmother’s house but had to clean up before I left. I loved going to my grandma’s house because I would talk to my best friend, Kendric, till the early hours of the morning. Eventually, I finished my chores and was at my grandma’s house. I called Kendric twice, but he didn’t answer. What was I supposed to do, I was wide awake. I called everyone I knew and either they didn’t answer or they were sleep too. I tried to go to sleep, but it didn’t work. I was down to my last resort - a boy named Andre.
Andre was my cousin’s boyfriend little brother. He was 16 years old and wasn’t exactly my favorite person. I decided to call him only because I figured he wouldn’t answer like everyone else; first mistake. Well, he did answer and we talked for a little bit. But then he said the strangest thing, his brother had the car at the moment, but when he got home, he could take the car and be on his way. I tried to think - “Did I invite him over here?” I couldn’t remember, but I figured why not? Second mistake. His brother came home and I gave him the directions. He’s on his way.
He came in the house and we greeted each other with an intimate hug. Andre made himself comfortable on the couch and we started to watch tv. Not soon after, he asked me could he have a kiss. And what did I say? Sure - third and biggest mistake. Pretty soon the kiss left the lips and moved to other body parts. He then undressed me and himself and I watched him put on a condom. I laid there and waited for him and the pain to enter me. As soon as he touched me, I felt the pain, but him being so caring, he told me to relax, that I would be okay, and that he wouldn’t hurt me. He finally came and he was off of me. I saw him take the condom off, but didn’t think or know to look and see if it was filled with his juices. We eventually kissed each other goodbye and I soon after got in the shower. As I stood there, I pondered on how such a good kisser he was, but how his sex skills were lacking so much. Despite what you might think, Andre was not my first, Kendric was. But before you start to label me as a young hoe, till this day I love Kendric and I’ve only had three sexual partners, probably three to many, but still a lot less than my peers.
Fast forward to the end of June, I didn’t get my period that month, but I skipped a month before - no big deal, is what I thought. But something strange did happen that month, every time I ate pizza, I threw it up. My mother asked me a couple of times if was I pregnant and I told her that wasn’t possible. But I began to think, was it? No, it was impossible; Andre used a condom.
Now its July and my church is preparing to go to Florida. I remember that trip vividly. I had a great time; I went swimming, rode plenty of roller coasters, and did a lot of play wrestling. But I kept feeling sick and queasy, so I was popping pills left and right. Then there was the pizza thing again; I kept throwing it up. Well, the trip was over and we we’re on our way back to Houston. It was a Saturday and my 14th birthday. So when we stopped at a rest stop, I got a lot of birthday licks. My brother and the other boys from the church got me good. They hit me anywhere I wasn’t blocking, including my stomach. It’s the end of July and my period still didn’t come. I had never skipped two months in a row before. My mother had asked me again that month did I think I was pregnant. I told her no and she said that we needed to make a doctor’s appointment to make sure I was okay.
It was the first week in August and I still didn’t get my period. My mother and I had a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday and she asked me the night before if I thought I was pregnant. I finally told her yes and confessed everything; she was very understanding. The doctor’s visit went okay and we were told they would call if the results were positive, but no call meant no baby. By the next Monday morning, they still hadn’t call. That same Monday afternoon I noticed the caller id blinking and realized I had missed two calls: my cousin Jillian and the doctor’s office. I called the doctor’s office back and I was told I was pregnant. My heart stopped beating and I felt no feeling in my right arm for a couple of seconds. I called Kendric, he didn’t answer, so I called my cousin Jillian and told her the news. She tried to calm me down, but I was a 14-year-old who was two months pregnant. I got the nerve to call my mother, who was at work, and told her. She reacted pretty calm, but I guess she already knew. I asked her not to tell my daddy yet, she agreed. I finally got hold of Kendric and he said he was there for me no matter what.
Later that same week I called Andre to tell him about his future child. I called him and he said he had just walked through the door and could I call him back when he got settled, I said fine. I called back, he said he was busy, could I call him back, I said sure. I called back again and he said he was still busy, could I call him back. I told him I needed to tell him something, could he give me a minute. I remember my exact words were, “Andre, I’m pregnant.” I remember his exact words were, “okay, but I’m busy, can you call me back?” I haven’t called him since, nor has he tried to contact me.
It was a Monday and time to tell my father. My mother and I went into the bedroom and she sat down and said, “she’s pregnant.” My father looked at me with such pain in his eyes and he grabbed his keys and left. When he came back, he told me to go lay down and he would come talk to me later. When my father came upstairs, he told me that my mother was taken me to a clinic the next day to get an abortion. He said he didn’t want to risk me having complications and that I was too young to be a mother; I can’t really blame him. For the first time, I rubbed my stomach knowing my baby was in there.
The next day my mother and I went to a clinic and I was getting ready to do something that had never crossed my mind before. We went in for the ultrasound and I saw my baby; he was so beautiful. For some reason, I always said I had a boy, just a feeling I had I guess. They made it a two-day process because of my age. The next day, they did another ultrasound and continued with the process. Laying there listening to someone suck your baby out of you, it’s pure hell. I hated every minute of it. And on top of that, they had plenty of ultrasound pictures and two that were exactly the same, but they wouldn’t let me keep one; I remember crying all the way home.
I’m 18 now and attend Lamar University. I’m having the time of my life, but I can’t help but to think about my unborn son. Recently, my youngest older brother, has had a son of his own and he’s absolutely gorgeous. You know, I may sound crazy, but I think my son is his son’s angel. The mother has a pelvic problem and she has sickle cell. The doctors said that she and the baby might have problems, and they did, but they’re both living and doing fine. It was nothing but GOD that brought them through. And I believe my son was in Heaven whispering to Jesus to spare there lives. He was their angel and I love him even more for that. And you know what, I think my nephew even has my cheeks!
I still have days when I break out into tears, and I have never made it through this story without crying. I thought writing it down would be a little easier, I was wrong. I have to live with what I did for the rest of my life. I have all the mental pictures that still haunt my dreams. I have the memory of laying on a table and let somebody take my baby right out of my body. I am harder on myself than anyone else and my self-esteem goes up and down. This kind of procedure really takes a toll on you mentally and physically.
After all of that do you know what I regret the most? I know I hurt my family, and most importantly GOD, but I apologized to all of them and I was forgiven. But I never got to apologize and explain what was happening to my baby. I killed my child and never told him, while he was still physically with me, I’m sorry. Now I have to go through life wondering does he hate me. I just hope he knows I love him and I’m sorry.