Defying the Odds
Maybe you thought this story would start with a first kiss that led to more, or end with a romantic one. But it wasn't like that for me. To be honest, I'm not sure exactly where and when it all started. If you wanted to, we could go back to my childhood. I could tell you that I was a straight-A student, a people pleaser. I was a carefree kid who never saw all the bad in the world.
We could even remember all the way back to my birth; but it didn't really even start there. Who's to say where anything began? Everything is a series in a chain of events, with no real beginnings or endings. I have no intention of boring you with all the details of my life though, so I'll try to put the pieces together.
What's the difference between enjoying life and just keeping the pain away? It's a fine line to cross, and I stumbled on that line every day of my life. I thought that for the first time, I was truly happy, but now I see that that was just another illusion. Maybe I was having fun, taking nothing seriously, but I had no goals for my future, nothing to dream of, and that led me to where I am now.
I guess the best place to start this story is in a dismal smoky apartment, surrounded by people I hardly knew. It was like any other night in my life at that point, and it was just another hook-up. I'd had a few too many drinks, and I doubted that I'd remember it in the morning. At the time I would have said I was just having "fun", but really I was just keeping away the emptiness that threatened to devour me. All it did in the end was replace the emptiness with pain.
After that day, nothing was the same. I didn't feel like going out, or doing anything that I normally loved. When I started throwing up I knew that something was really wrong. At that point I stopped feeling. I couldn't feel my fear, though I could sense it there. I had no regrets, though part of me knew that my days of fun were over.
Eventually I couldn't deny the signs to myself anymore. That's when it hit me. I was 14 fucking years old and pregnant. I hated myself for it. I despised my every thought, detested my every breath. Everything I had done had finally caught up with me and there was no one to blame but myself. Through my self-loathing, the truth caught up with me. All that time I had spent partying, getting drunk or high, had wasted the best years of my life away. Now I had no choice but to grow up and learn to take life seriously.
I hid the signs for as long as I could. I kept going about my daily life, going to school even though it killed me. As I walked through the graffitied halls, my secret tore me up inside. People noticed that I had become quiet and subdued. I sat by myself at lunch, and walked alone through the halls on the way to classes. Thoughts constantly raced in my head, and paranoia planted a seed and took root in my brain. Every glance I got from another student had me convinced that they knew, that the whole world knew. One concerned question from a teacher was the prospect of being rushed to the office, my parents called, and having to deal with their rage and disappointment at finding out that I wasn't their little angel anymore; or rather that I never had been the sweet innocent child they thought I was.
I did everything in my power to keep them from noticing anything different about me. I kept my grades up, though they meant less than nothing to me now. I continued to go out on the weekends, but instead of partying I spent the time at one friend's house, keeping my façade up, chain-smoking cigarettes, and pretending nothing was wrong. I continued to live my two lives, sweet little angel at home, and rebellious teenager out with my friends. Of course I avoided drinking, and I wouldn't go near drugs, but other than that I was the same girl I had always been.
It went on like that but I knew, all along, that I couldn't hide it forever. My stomach was getting bigger and I ached everywhere. About two months along into my pregnancy, I started developing severe pains in my lower stomach and my back. I kept it to myself for as long as I could, but it got to be too much, and I was having trouble walking. I was walking into school one day, and I felt a searing pain in my lower abdominal region. I collapsed to the floor.
I woke up in a hospital bed. I was lying on my back, and everything was so…white. I remember thinking how much I hated the color white; it was everything I wasn't, pure and untainted by the stains of life. I heard voices but they were fuzzy and sounded far away. As they became clearer, I heard murmurs.
"passed out from pain"
" severe bladder infection"
"Can't be prescribed anything; might harm the fetus."
That's when it hit me; the doctors would tell my mom that I was pregnant. A weird thought crossed my mind when I heard the word fetus. It went something like this; "So that's what's growing inside of me!"
I didn't have much time to ponder this. What I heard next sent shivers down my spine and my heart skipped a beat.