I’m still shocked, but I have the pregnancy test to prove it. Two pink lines and my whole world is about to change.
How could I let this happen? How could I be so dumb?
I’m so disappointed in myself, I can barely look in the mirror.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I know better.
My heart clenches as I turn the page on my journal and find another entry, skimming it and reading only the parts that jump out at me with a kind of sick fascination as I relive all the big moments in my life?days, weeks, months.
I’m going to tell Chance today. I don’t want to wait. Waiting won’t make this any less real, so there’s no point in it. Besides, he loves me. What could go wrong?
He’s coming over in about an hour to go over the playbook with Dad and then we were going to steal a few moments together like we always do.
I’ll tell him then.
It will be okay.
We’ll face this together.
I close my eyes for a brief moment, thinking about how I’d felt. I really thought it would work out, that Chance and I would ride the wave of parenthood together and everything would be okay.
The next page tells another story.
Chance doesn’t want the baby.
When he told me, I didn’t even know what to say. I was speechless, stunned into silence. After I recovered, I told him it was okay, that I understood. And I do, kind of. He starts at Cumberland University next year, and there’s a lot riding on him to excel as a rookie quarterback. Most think he’ll go pro.
Still, I’m not sure where that leaves us. Me and the baby in my belly.
But it’s my decision to keep her. Not that I know it’s a her. I suppose it could very well be a boy. Either way, I’ll do this alone. I have to.
I just hope God blesses me with a really easy baby because this is surely going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And though I’m trying to be brave, I’m scared. So, so scared.
I told Mom and Dad today.
I don’t know what I expected. Disappointment? Screaming? Yelling? Judgment? For them to kick me out of the house?
I received none of those things.
Shock, yes. Sympathy, absolutely. And, yeah, maybe they’re a little disappointed even if they won’t say so, but it was nothing like I’d feared.
Overall, they were just really supportive, which makes me feel even worse because I didn’t tell them the truth about the father.
But how could I?
A few weeks ago, I overheard Dad on the phone with the athletic director at CU, and I know he’s been promised the coaching position there next year if he signs Chance and brings him with him.
My dad’s dream has been to coach college football for as long as I can remember. He’s worked so hard, but I know what he’ll do if I tell him. He’ll confront Chance and refuse the spot. But Chance will only be around for a handful of years while my father’s career will last five times that. I can’t let my mistake destroy his dream. I just can’t.
My life isn’t the only one that’s about to change, and the gift of ignorance is the least I can do for them because my parent’s lives will change with this baby, too. People will stare. They’ll talk about how their teen daughter got knocked up. They’ll have a newborn in the house, crying and crawling and making a mess. Since I’m under their health insurance, my medical bills from the pregnancy and birth will be theirs. Instead of preparing to be empty nesters, they’re starting all over again. Well, not quite because she’s mine, but close.
All those reasons and more are what make me even more determined to make this as easy as possible for them. They shouldn’t have to suffer because of my mistakes.
So, I’ll handle everything, do everything myself. I won’t ask them for a thing, and they won’t have to lift a finger. After my hospital bills are paid, I won’t ask them for a dime.
It’ll be as if I truly am a single mom, living on my own. The things I can control, I’ll control. And all the other things . . . I’ll just have to make up for them.