In my next post I’ll continue sharing more of my unplanned pregnancy ordeal that took place when I was nineteen year old. Being it’s been a bit too long since I last touched on this topic, today I’m going back a few posts to my last writing on this subject. Or, if you have not read any about my story, then why not just click right here to start reading from the very beginning of my soap opera and see how God has intertwined though out it all.
The Hardest Phone Call To Make – part 1
So one day there I was, Marianne, nineteen years old, recently begun my new walk as a Christian with Christ right by my side as I was full of energy to face the world. The next day, however, I was that same nineteen-year-old who was now faced with an unplanned pregnancy, wanting to hide from the world.
I was relieved after telling my parents the day I found out, with an abundant amount of love from both of them softening my guilt. They showed no signs that they wanted to scratch me with any shame. They probably knew I was already holding enough shame inside.
Telling them I was pregnant still gets the title as the toughest thing I have ever had to tell anyone. Now sure, a few years earlier I had to finally tell the boss where I had been working for about four months that I was six months younger than the legal age to work there, with the result of instantly being fired from my job. That, however, was nothing compared to telling my parents I was pregnant.
Thankfully, the love expressed from my parents—along with my six older siblings—was the start of feeling that God was helping me at the beginning of this tough road I was now on. I wasn’t encouraged enough to feel total peace in telling the entire world, however. Just my family knowing—along with my pillow, after it had soaked up my many thoughts by this point—was all I could bear for a few days. And then I told my best friend. That talk proved to me even more why she was my best friend.
I knew it best I talk to the pastor at my church, but being a Monday I found out I was pregnant, I decided to wait unit Sunday to talk to him face to face. Wondering how to tell my pastor filled much of my thoughts. But telling someone else filled up even more: the father. I became almost impossible not to think of how and when to tell my ex-boyfriend. Most of me didn’t want to tell him but I knew the smaller part of me was going to win. I had to tell him. Even though our relationship ended a few weeks before the thought of taking a pregnancy test even existed, a phone call was a must.
“Marianne,” my mother mentioned a time or twenty, “just call him and get it over with.”
I couldn’t use ‘I’m too busy’ being as I had no job or any time-consuming hobby to use as an excuse. And no way was I in the mood to just hang out with friends to fill up time. I tried my darndest to delay calling him as long as possible. Thomas Jefferson’s saying ‘Never put off till tomorrow what you can do today’ got pushed under my rug. Finally, towards the end of that week, I gave in and (gulp) called.
Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ri…
To be continued.