He had told me he lived in a cozy two bedroom house, but the home he brought me to turned out to be a little shack. When he had described the quaintness of his place, I had pictured a cozy, little ranch. I was disappointed because I had expected to see my dad living comfortably. It felt like he was just coasting by, not living to the fullest. It seemed like he didn’t care to make himself or any part of his life better. He was just settling.
I went to sleep that night, hoping that I would see things in a more positive light in the morning. Unfortunately, things went downhill from there. The next morning’s Dunkin Donuts run should have been a decently cheap breakfast that he could treat me to, but when my dad asked me to borrow a twenty, I realized I was buying. Bumming money off of me, his pregnant teenage daughter, was the last straw in the haystack for me. Sure, he paid me back but it was yet another reminder that he was not the man I thought he would be.
My father seemed to live completely in the past. His spirit was a ghost, while the shell in front of me recounted war stories galore. I appreciate his service to our country, but the way he lost himself in his stories made me feel like any ear would have done. The conversation continued its slow downward spiral as he began commenting on my pregnancy. He was adamant that if he had been around, I wouldn’t be pregnant. I understood his sentiment toward my circumstances, but I felt he had no right to judge. Raymond hadn’t been around for my childhood. He wasn’t there for me as I messed up my teenage years.
There was no way to make a comeback from the painful stabbing feeling his comments induced. I just wanted to be back home, living the nightmare I was already in, rather than this whole new one I had created for myself in Texas. I desperately wanted to run away. I wanted to ask my Aunt Beth to come get me that first night, but I chose to suck it up and stick it out at my dad’s
I stayed at my father’s for three days, instead of running away like I felt he had when I was a baby. The whole time I was there, it felt like he didn’t make a single feeble attempt to connect with me or even show me his town. The majority of the time I was there I watched TV, my only source of southern comfort. I had hoped he would take me to see a few sites or maybe hit up a cheap diner to try the local food. But, no. Nothing. Sadly, the visit was not the exploration of self or family history that I had hoped it would be. My dad closed himself off emotionally, so I physically shut myself in his room where I spent most of my time.
The visit dragged into Thanksgiving. I had never wished to be home more than when I found myself sadly pushing boxed mashed potatoes around my plate. I imagined my family in Pennsylvania sitting around the table as I reached for a glass of water to swallow the dry turkey in front of me. For the first time in my life, I fully appreciated the always-enjoyable homemade food we always had for the holiday. Did I really miss home? I never imagined I would feel that way.
The whole experience couldn’t have been more different than what I had imagined it would be like. I had started looking for my dad years earlier. Once I had even gone on one of those people finder sites to locate him and asked my mom to pay the twenty-five dollars to obtain locked information. The information I got was about a man who earned a six-figure salary, who had no family in the surrounding area. The great power of the Internet only feeds you so much, if you don’t have much information to begin with. The identity and background of the man it gave me, was not my father, but I had wanted so badly to believe it was that I built the rest of my fantasy around that illusion.
Despite all the negativity, I decided it was time to forget about the bad and concentrate on the good. The one bright spot of the trip was that I learned I had another blood relative. My half-sister, Mikaila Rae. Instead of wallowing in the past, I would focus on the future. I had a baby on the way and a boyfriend with whom I wanted to start building a future. Also, I now had a sister, someone untainted by the drama of our unconventional family. Maybe together we could rise above all this dysfunction and be a family.
Chapter 7
Fat or Pregnant?
16 and Pregnant showed only a small part of my story. There are so many little details from that period of my life that I wish could have been shown. Like the fact that I was the only pregnant girl in a very small high school, which made my stomach stick out a bit—both figuratively and literally. Or that the desks at school were too small for my big belly to fit comfortably into, which felt like a big joke at my expense. Or all the ignorant babble and gossip about me. The only thing worse than being stuck in one of those desks, was having to put up with the all the stares and whispers.
“Is she just fat or is she pregnant?”
My classmates actually had the audacity to approach my friends with that question. Wasn’t my round belly obvious enough? But the ignorance of my peers was the least of my problems. I could handle shocking or disappointing them, but there was one person I didn’t want to let down. He was my favorite teacher and the only mentor I ever had.
Mr. Koser was one of the few adults I trusted. I had been in his web design class for two years and during that time we had grown close. For the first time in my life I had been able to open up to someone. He knew about my issues with my mother, but never spoke ill of her. He helped me to understand that she had her own demons shadowing her and reminded me that it was not my fault. He taught me to put my best foot forward, even if that meant letting go of the person dragging me down. He was the one person I felt wouldn’t judge me, but despite that (or maybe because of it) Mr. Koser was the last person I wanted to find out that I was pregnant.
For months I avoided his hallway, hoping if he didn’t see me he wouldn’t find out the truth. I even begged friends who were in his class not to whisper a word about my pregnancy around him. Although part of me knew he would find out eventually, especially when all you had to do was look at me to see I was pregnant, I did everything I could to put that moment off as long as possible. Failure had never been a worry of mine because I had nobody in my life to let down. Now for the first time, I knew the heaviness of disappointing someone I looked up to. I imagined him shaking his head at me and saying something like, “You’re better than this,” or, “You had such a bright future. How are you going to make it now?”
By the time I had dug up enough courage to tell him, I was close to leaving school for the year. I was only a month away from giving birth so I didn’t have to say much to explain my situation. Rumors had reached his ears, despite my best attempts at keeping things hushed up. To my relief, Mr. Koser didn’t utter a negative word. He was one of the few people who still believed in me. I feared his disappointment more than my own mother’s, but I was wrong to worry. Mr. Koser reassured me I would get through every hurdle and obstacle in my way. To this day, he’s still in my life.
***
With that behind me, I was able to move forward with my life. I had met with a school counselor and figured out a graduation plan. Since my last high school had required more credits, it turned out I had enough to finish the year early. I would graduate in January and walk with my class in May, after the baby was born. With high school now a part of the past and the extra stress of schoolwork and gossip behind me, I was able to focus on getting ready for the baby.
The crazy, hyperactive days that followed weren’t enough to stop my mind from being consumed by doubt. I was still trying to convince myself that I was doing the right thing by raising a child at such a young age and sharing all of my struggles. Everyone in my life had strong opinions about what I should or shouldn’t be doing. The one person who made absolutely no sense to me then, but who I later realized actually had it right the whole time, was my grandmother. She just said, “You know, babies are born!” In her weird way she was pointing out that having a child is a just part of life and now that it was a fact in mine I just had to keep moving forward.
My life wasn’t going to go back to the way it was even after my baby was born. My body might go back to the way it was (well it sort of would, with hard work), but from that moment on I would b
e responsible for another life. Oddly, that responsibility wasn’t as scary to me as it might be to others. What I was starting to realize was that this baby was going to give me a chance to have real family, to have someone who would never leave me.
Despite the chaos and uncertainty of my circumstances, I was definitely starting to feel a deep maternal connection to my baby. I still wished I was at least a decade older, but the experience of being pregnant was so intense and magical nothing could prevent me from appreciating the beauty of it. The existential experience of having a life growing inside of me turned each individual kick into shock waves that I felt throughout my whole body. There is no relationship that can compare. It’s symbiotic. It’s unspoken love. I was never alone anymore. When Jo left me in the middle of the night or my mom wouldn’t speak to me, there was no endless emptiness. I had someone with me at all times.
The pure beauty of it all was truly a miracle to me. The world as I had known it wasn’t magical or filled to the brim with good wishes and happiness. But now, for the first time in my life, I suddenly found my life filled with something I had never known before: hope. Hope that I could be a good mother. Hope for a happy future with my child.
But what would that future be? Would I be able to attend higher education? That was always my first question when I saw pregnant teens. How is she going to finish school so she can provide for her baby? I decided that I wouldn’t allow myself to turn into a statistic. I would push past the odds and not let numbers decide my future.
Meanwhile, although I may have obtained a newfound positivity when it came to my future with the baby, things with Jo were not going so well. He had been working late nights at Taco Bell and had taken a shift to the shady side. He was spending less time at home and seemed to be skipping out on his classes at Northampton Community College. I began to worry that he was doing something other than going to work or school when he left the house. I suspected he might be having an affair with one of his coworkers. Every night when I went to bed, knots formed in the pit of my stomach.
Mr. Koser is still an important person in my life. In this photo Isaac is playing around in his classroom.
Since I didn’t have a car of my own, I asked a friend to take me to Taco Bell in the middle of the night to check on Jo. This wasn’t the first time I had stormed into the fast food place at a ridiculous hour. In fact, I was a repeat offender. Sometimes they’d be just working or Jo’s face wouldn’t make an appearance at all. I wanted to catch them doing something explicit enough that I could at least have some closure and know that I wasn’t losing my mind. This time, I decided to confront Jo and his coworker directly, but they sat me down and denied anything was going on between them. I had no solid proof besides Jo’s sketchy behavior to go on, so I left.
But the knot in my stomach and lump in my throat would not go away. I knew it wasn’t that I was letting the pregnancy hormones control me. There was definitely a problem. Jo never wanted to spend time with me anymore or he would use sleep as an excuse to avoid me. I didn’t want to resort to looking through his phone, but I was at the breaking point, so I searched it. His coworker’s name and number came up in texts and calls.
During such an emotionally uncertain period in our lives, I knew mistakes were going to be made, but Jo cheating on me was a whole different book I wasn’t sure I was prepared to sit through and read. Unfortunately, I had no choice. I needed answers. I finally confronted him during an appointment with my OB. Obviously, the doctor’s office isn’t a very appropriate place to have that kind of confrontation, but Jo was never around anymore and I felt like this was my only opportunity to find out the truth.
Since his skulking around had become too obvious to deny, Jo finally admitted that he was seeing someone behind my back. He had even gone so far as to put his uniform on when he went out and bring his regular clothes in a bag so I would think he was working when he was really meeting up with her. If anyone had a right to be in a shit state, it was me. I was preparing to have a baby and the father of my child was cheating on me. Finally, I stopped fighting back the tears and let myself break down. I felt duped, cheated, and humiliated. I was completely heartbroken.
My high school graduation day, with Isaac. I graduated early but walked with my class in June.
What was there to say to make things right? Was there anything I could do to make the wrongs better? I felt trapped by Jo’s lies and his feelings for this stranger. His behavior wasn’t all that surprising. He was running from the serious situation we were put in and I was really frightened he would choose this other girl over me and the baby. I still loved him and I had no idea how important this other “relationship” was to him.
Once, he didn’t come home until eight in the morning. It was the morning of my baby shower. I woke up, surprised to not see his usual slumped-over body staring out the window. Was he out running an errand this early after working so late? Peering outside, I saw his car enter the development. He disappeared for a minute, circling the block, and entered the driveway from the opposite direction. Jo’s parents were aware that he hadn’t come home the night before and when he walked in the door we all confronted him. Jo barely seemed to flinch and just shut us out, insisting that nothing had happened.
Did I want to be with someone who was capable of leaving me at such a vulnerable time? The uncertainty about our relationship that had consumed me when I first found out that I was pregnant had become relevant again. But now I worried that, even if I didn’t want to be with Jo, would anyone want to be with me once I had a child? But at that point, it was too late to step back and rethink the biggest decision of my life. I was having this baby with or without Jo. Seconds, minutes, days flew by as my due date approached. It felt like I didn’t even have a second to stop and blink.
Chapter 8
The Persistent Push
January 18, 2010
Five a.m. was way too early to be rising; even the sun wasn’t ready to begin a new day. My bladder had woken me up just as Jo was preparing to leave for work. His mom had scored him a job installing copy and fax machines in New Jersey, far away from all the drama associated with his old job. Not only did it put an end to the affair, Jo was now receiving a higher pay and benefits and his hours were earlier and more regular.
It wasn’t unheard of for me to be waking up with Jo due to some pregnancy related issue. Per usual, I was exhausted and just wanted my head to be back on the pillow, but my pajamas and bed were damp so I thought I had peed myself. After cleaning up and changing, I went back to bed, but within a few hours I was woken up again by painful cramping. Pain and discomfort are pretty standard for a woman closing in on her due date, so I didn’t really realize what these cramps meant.
I called my mom to ask if mild cramping was typical. She came over right away, calmly explaining to me that I was in labor and had been for hours. I was in labor? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I thought that my water breaking would be this intense moment, not just a feeling that I had wet myself. This was it? Okay. I went with the flow and followed protocol. I called my doctor. Since my contractions (the cramping I was feeling) were already five minutes apart, he told me to go to the nearest hospital, not the one I was scheduled to give birth at. We arrived at Sacred Heart Hospital at around 10:00 or 11:00 that morning and they confirmed that my water had broken. There was no denying it now, I was definitely in labor.
The boring, painful hours ticked by. I was anxious that something would go wrong, but I tried to relax and focus on the birth instead of worrying about problems over which I had no control. Soon Jo and his family arrived, accompanied by three people from the MTV crew. Even though, instead of the usual giant cameras that had been following me around, they used three handheld Flip cameras, the additional people and cameras made me feel trapped and anxious to deliver the baby.
In my episode of 16 and Pregnant time was compressed so that the birth seemed like it happened in neat, time-segmented clips. The professionals crave certain angles and go ab
ove and beyond the regular, shaky video a family member would have shot, but what you didn’t get to see were the hours of lying around in pain, hoping the delivery would speed up. In the early hours I was anxious, but not complaining yet. Every second, minute, and hour that passed was leading up to the tiny moment in time that I had been waiting so patiently for. What was one hour or two more? Besides the pain and restlessness, I was consumed by a fear that had been on my mind from the moment I had found out I was pregnant.
Throughout my pregnancy I had been worried about the baby’s health. There was nothing to indicate I had any reason to be concerned, but I still had an unsettling feeling that made me question my actions left and right. Every pregnancy myth became fact in my mind and I worried constantly that my baby might not turn out to be okay. I even convinced myself that finding out the sex was bad luck. I was the only girl from my season of 16 and Pregnant to keep the sex of the baby a surprise. I painted the nursery a neutral color and for the baby shower registry kept everything unisex. I also had a name picked out for each gender.
I don’t think anyone really understood my decision, not even Jo. That age-old question, “Do you want a boy or a girl?” was tiresome to me. I didn’t care. Healthy was the only thing that mattered because I had so much anxiety that I might have a baby with special medical needs. All I wanted was a strong, healthy baby. Now that I was about to give birth, I was faced with finding out if my fears had an ounce of truth to them.
After a day of labor, I had grown sick of ice chips. Although I desperately needed sustenance and water, for the most part I could deal with the pain. It wasn’t excruciating until the contractions started coming nonstop.
Pride Over Pity Page 4
