A Story from a Life - Part Two

I knew, even as I was unloading the car and moving into my dorm.

I arrived on campus, on the cusp of the rest of my life, pregnant.

I knew it, but refused to acknowledge it in the most wholly defiant way. "That will never happen to me. I'm too smart; too aware; too informed." Yeah, whatever. All those things may have been true in theory; the reality was another story altogether. But damn if Denial isn't a grand place to live when you're eighteen years old and have just made the most flippant of choices, one with the power to alter the entire world and universe as you've always known them to exist.

Weeks went by, and then entire months. The brand new box of tampons on the top shelf of my closet remained unopened, gathering dust. In an ironic twist of fate, my roommate was an anorexic ballerina who was missing periods, too. Rather than become a topic of late night girl talk, this strange common bond morphed into the elephant in the room that neither of us ever mentioned.

I would spend my nights at the house he shared with four roommates. I'd wake up early and make a mad dash to get to my dorm's locker room style public bathroom in time to puke my guts out before the rest of the floor got out of bed. Every single day, for weeks. And it wasn't just any puke; it was that vile yellow bile vomit that burned my throat, leaving a bitterly sharp metallic taste in my mouth for hours afterward.

Still, while I consciously developed this routine of secrecy and even catered to it, I refused to live in that consciousness long enough to be concerned. I never had flashing moments of panic, wondering, "What the hell do I do now?" On some level, I employed the logic that if I wasn't even having that conversation with myself, then it wasn't really happening.

God, how astonishingly stupid. Not to mention dangerous.

Looking back, I have come to a sort of peace, reaching the conclusion that there was a subconscious method to my obvious madness. I'm convinced an instinct of self-protection was behind the mental block I formed against the reality that a life was growing with abandon inside of me.

I knew a lot of people, too many, really, both close friends and those of the mere acquaintance type, who had abortions when we were in high school. In those days, access to an abortion was as easy as coming up with the money. No consent, no counseling. Show up with the cash and all your problems would be solved within hours. My best friend went through the experience twice, while I tried to be supportive of her in whatever feeble way one child can support another child through a traumatic life choice like that. I drove her to the clinic and helped her with the forms. I counted out the cash and paid the bill. I squeezed her hand and bought her chocolate milkshakes. I held her tight while she sobbed inconsolably into my shoulder.

I was always pro-choice in the great national debate. But I had also seen the process with my own two eyes. The physical pain, the emotional strain. The spirit shattering aftershocks that rumbled long after the deed was done. When I got pregnant and faced the choice for myself, something, somewhere deep inside, made the decision for me. I protected myself from facing the reality of the situation; I kept the secret locked away long enough, until ultimately, there was no choice.

And through it all, I told no one; the weight of what I knew but refused to face carried in surreal isolation through every bout of morning sickness, every glance at the top shelf of my closet, every waking hour and most fitful, sleeping ones, too. I went home for Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, celebrating the holidays as if nothing was different. As if the landscape of my life had not been altered forever. As if I didn't know that the lives of everyone I loved were about to change right along with mine.

My dad took me back to school in early January. I remember crying as he got ready to leave, so hard that I could scarcely breathe. I remember him hugging me, taking me by the shoulders and asking what was wrong. I remember shrugging, and saying only, "I miss you." He knew my boyfriend had decided to take a semester off, to stay at home and work, saving some money while he tried to get his academic act together. I'm sure he chalked up my emotional outburst to that, on some level. I remember being relieved to let him believe it.

Within days of my return to campus, my clothes began to feel tight, and I felt like I was suffocating. Alone, depressed, and scared, I finally reached out. I called my best friend back home, and after rambling for long minutes, I told her. I spoke the truth, out loud for the first time in a tumbling spill of incoherent words, and I will never forget the queasy mixture of panic and relief that swept over me as the words traversed the thin line of wire connecting the miles between us.

Once I hung up the phone and contemplated the magnitude of the conversation I'd just had, I went across the dormitory hall and pounded on the door.

Laura and I had become friends almost by accident. Neither of us had much spare time; we were both taking full class loads and we were both totally wrapped up in our respective boyfriends. Even so, we found a way to forge a friendship in bits and pieces, managing to get to know each other farily well, relatively quickly, courtesy of the cocoon of college. Laura opened her door, saw my face and that was all it took. We cried together, and we talked. Other girls from our floor materialized out of nowhere, and we talked some more. I got all of the questions: How are you? Do you know you have options? What are you going to do? Do you need a phone number, a ride, some cash? Do your parents know? What are you going to do? Are you feeling okay? Have you had morning sickness? It's been HOW long?!? What are you going to do? How does he feel about it?

How does HE feel?

How the hell would I know? He doesn't even know yet, at least not from me. Thinking that into the buzzing silence inside my head was like a punch in the stomach; saying it out loud to a room full of upturned faces was like stepping on the ledge at the end of the world. How unbelievably selfish I had been. The tears began to flow in earnest at that moment. The reality check had finally been cashed, and there was no turning back now. But even though I knew I had to tell him, and soon, I was afraid.

So, I waited, trying to build up the courage to do the right thing. To do the responsible thing. I waited, scared, lonely, full of self-hate and doubt, full of the realization that I had made the worst possible mess out of a horrible situation, for all concerned.

While I waited, stuck, unable to move, my best friend took action for me.

Two of the longest days of my life later, I sat alone in my room, studying for a test in a course I was sure would never appear on my permanent record, when the telephone rang.

It was him.

My heart pounded so hard I had trouble hearing his voice over its drum beat in my ears.

"I heard something today. About you. Well, about us," he said.

"Yeah?" I managed to reply.

"So, is it true?"

I paused, thinking absurdly for the briefest of moments that if I just hung up the phone right then, it would all be over. Heavy sighing ensued on my end, an attempt to keep the tears from choking my throat closed completely.

Finally, nearly whispering, I answered, "Yes."

I waited some more, for what felt like a lifetime, steeling myself for his rage to explode through the receiver.

It never came. 

Instead I heard, "I want to marry you."

___________________________________

How many seminal moments does one lifetime have?

I'd never cried so hard in my life as I did that night. Relief. Stress. Joy. Terror. Uncertainty. Indecision. Confusion. Love. Everything. It all washed over me, wave after wave after wave, and I remember saying out loud, a whisper into the empty room, into the darkness that surrounded me, "I'm having a baby."

And then I slept, as if entire years had passed since I'd last closed my eyes.

Comments

[Vanessa]

Great post. Great series.

I went through almost the exact same scenario - first term at university, supportive boyfriend, wondering what the hell to say to anyone - except I made a different choice. It's like someone showing you the inside of a rosebud to read how differently things can turn in the world.

[Marsha]

It took me awhile to stop crying. Lovely story, very touching. I can't help but wonder what you have planned for this next chapter of your life. Do you have yearnings to pick up where you left off, or is there another direction you crave after having life experience, or are you content to continue on the current path?

[wordnerd]

Jen, I think this may be it. The most beautiful, powerful post. Ever. Thank you so much for sharing it with us.

[poopie]

I can't imagine how hard it must have been to keep the secret for that long. You described it very well.

[Cee]

Wow - what an incredible story. (Do we get a part 3?)

[Jennifer]

Yes, meno, I am one of the lucky ones. For a million reasons, not the least of which involves having a road laid out before me that I never thought to want and certainly didn't expect, but that ended up taking me exactly where I was supposed to go, in spite of myself.

[meno]

wow. That's really lovely. And i love your boyfriend/husband too.
You are one of the lucky ones. It doesn't always end that way as i'm sure you know.

[colleen]

Woo wee...this was intensely moving for me. Shivers...wet eyes... big sigh at the end.

I once wrote a poem called Woman's Shame about the paradox ... shame of getting pregnant... shame of having an abortion ...shame of having too many children ...shame of having none. It seems sometimes that women can't win no matter what they choose. That's why I have such empathy and support them whatever they choose.

[Karen]

I love your guy.
I, too, pro-choice always, do not have a secure knowledge that I would go through the procedure.
I have seen both sides through others, too. It is such a personal thing.
I am so angry it is a political issue.
Life is what happens when we are making plans...

[Monique]

This is simply beautiful. It brought tears to my eyes. I have added you to my blogroll, if that's okay. I really enjoy your poetic writing.

[tiff]

Wow. Wow. Wow.

Wordnerd was right.

This is an immensely powerful story. It could have been mine; but mine was a false alarm. The denial, the silence, the paralysis of action was all there though.

Amazingly written.

[kay lee]

I have been there,
It always amazed me.
how I could go from fear, to
contentment with those three
words.
Looking back it was the best
of all things that could have
happend.
Her name is Jennifer,
her dad an I would not have missed
having her for all the world.
Peace.