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How I 'Almost' Became A Mother

Nearly ten years ago from the day I'm writing this, I almost became a mother.


This is something I've only shared with a handful of people (minus those involved in the situation) since it happened, but with the current state of things in our country I've realized what support I can offer is my own story and experience.


I'm not here for pity, praise, or any response really.


I'm not here for your approval, acceptance, disapproval, or unacceptance.


I'm not here to "change your mind" or make you agree with me.


My only hope here is to support those who may be going through/have gone through something similar so they know they aren't alone, and to shed light for those who haven't been through this situation to hopefully really hear and understand the perspective from someone who went through it firsthand.


With that, here it goes....

 

Before I got pregnant I was 100% "pro-life."


I mean, I grew up in a Christian family - mostly Baptist, the kind of Christians I could write stories about what was said in done in the name of "religious values"- you know what I mean.


Nothing against religion itself. If it gives you purpose, peace, and enlightenment, that's amazing! If you use it to instill fear, shame, and guilt into others so you can judge and manipulate them into doing what you think is "right"... that's when I personally have issues with it.


Anyway, we're not here to talk about religion, but I want to give you the frame of reference that at the time I was 21, trying to "find myself" as a somewhat fresh-out-of-the-nest adult, but still had a lot of lingering beliefs and ideas from years of being told if I didn't believe/behave in x, y, and z I would be eternally damned to Hell, and I didn't take that very lightly. Being very anti-abortion and thinking people need to, "Be responsible and own up to the consequences of their actions" was one of those beliefs.


Then I found out I was pregnant.

 

At first I thought it was the flu, everyone at work was sick and I hadn't missed a period. It honestly wasn't until I was with an old friend of mine who was a nurse, that she suggested I get a test. So I did, and it came back positive. I remember as I watched it, my vision blurred and all I could hear was, "Mommy... Mom... Mommy..." over and over again (much like that one Family Guy scene, except less funny) and I got scared. I'm sure many people feel scared when this happens, but I don't know if suffocation, drowning, or despair is the kind of fear you want to experience.


I was straight up terrified. After doing the math that I was only 2.5 weeks along, I had to tell my at-the-time boyfriend about our situation.

 

Now, this boyfriend and I had a terrible, awful relationship. Deep down, I knew the relationship was bad, but I hadn't consciously come to terms with how bad it actually was at this point in time and my self-worth was still hanging out in the gutter. It was abusive in various forms, and in hindsight we were definitely trauma-bonded in our connection to each other. Similarly, I could write stories about the experiences and lessons from this relationship alone, but for now all you need to know is that I was in an unhealthy relationship with an (actual) abusive narcissist who truthfully hated women and children. (And before you ask, yes I was on birth control at the time...)

 

So on one of the longest-feeling days of my life, I drove home and immediately told him the big news. He was angry, making snide comments about he should push me down the stairs, followed by, "Don't look at me like that, I'm just joking. But it's not like we're keeping it anyways." He got even more mad when I told him I hadn't decided yet. I truly wanted to weigh out all of my options before making a decision, mostly because I didn't want to be a hypocrite. Although deep down I really did just want it to go away, I felt like I needed to take responsibility and make a sound decision on what was best. But I also wanted to have support and partnership in this decision. It wasn't just about his wants, or my wants, we needed to be in it together.


I'm not sure what was worse, telling him or telling my job.


I was working at a vet clinic at the time, as a front desk receptionist and lead receptionist of our grooming department, where I'd been for barely 5 months at this point. This place truly felt like family to me, and for the first time I felt valued in my skills there. In fact, I'd just had my 3-month review, and received tons of praise for my skills, insights, and adaptability. I loved my job before I told them about my pregnancy.


The day after I told my ex was the day I told my supervisor. I met with her privately, explained the situation to her, and told her I wasn't sure how it would affect my job capabilities in terms of heavy lifting, litter boxes, etc. She was overjoyed and ecstatic for me, to which I made a point to tell her we hadn't decided our course of action yet. She assured me that I would, "make the right decision" and offered a meeting with a friend of hers who ran an adoption agency if I decided I didn't want to parent the child myself.


After the meeting, she then proceeded to tell everyone in the office that I was pregnant. I also learned that nearly everyone I worked with leaned very conservative in their Christian beliefs - which I didn't think was a real issue because workplace rights, right? We'll come back to this again in a moment....


Anyway I met with her adoption agency friend, and that just didn't feel right to either of us. So the discussion began of how we would make things work if we were to keep it versus going the termination route. Mind you, we were both struggling financially (me even more so than him with my stack of medical debt), I had little to no contact/support from my family, and his family couldn't have supported us. We were talking about various scenarios trying to figure out how it could work.