This was not the plan; if I ever really had a plan. I was supposed to finally get out of my scared, little comfort zone and be the gypsy traveler that I used to be. I was supposed to be a better writer than I was letting myself be right now- I wanted to be like all of those classic writers that I loved... minus that alcoholism, suicide and major drug use. I was supposed to be like all my friends who are doing exactly what they love and excelling at it.
I was supposed to be.
I was supposed to be.
For 23 years I was supposed to be but never was.
Now I was staring at a pregnancy test and wondering if I ever could be. I had always disliked the color pink and now that it was telling me I was pregnant I hated it even more. Pregnant; that word was one that I never imagined using in context to myself. I never wanted children, heck, I never owned a doll as a child. I was much more comfortable playing in mud and climbing trees. Now I was left with a choice that I had never imagined myself making and I had no idea what I was going to do.
Two weeks later I found myself in a lobby- which smelled heavily of fake vanilla- waiting to get an ultrasound. I had yet to tell anyone about the pregnancy save for my then-boyfriend and best friend. I wanted to make sure that I was actually pregnant and not just infected with an alien or possessed by a creeptastic demon (hey, it could happen.) To say I was nervous would be the biggest understatement of the year: I was completely and utterly terrified to my core.
Fast forward an hour and I was stumbling out of the clinic like a drunken idiot, walking down the street in a haze. I was not only pregnant but was nineteen weeks along. Nineteen weeks of no symptoms, not showing, and not knowing that I was pregnant. I was pretty much a candidate for one of those “I didn't know that I was pregnant until I gave birth while square-dancing” shows. The strangest part of this was that even though I was scared, confused and a little upset, I was feeling a underlying wave of peace and happiness.
What. The. Frak.
My boyfriend left me after I told him I was pregnant, I ended up being the 23 year old, single pregnant girl without a job, and my parents asked me to move back in with them until my daughter is born. I’m not going to downplay it: I felt very broken. I spent a lot of time crying or angry with the situation but through it all I knew that keeping my daughter was the best choice I was ever going to make.Change happened to me and within me in a fairly short time and I believe this happens, to an extent, to every parent or parent-to-be. I learned to move on and be happy. Life isn't fair but making myself suffer was a stupid idea. I wasn't going to be a victim.
Single parenting is going to be hard: parenting in any situation is hard. I know that some days will be hell, other days I will want to give up. I don't know what I am doing; I don't know the correct books to read, the best stroller to get, how to wrap a baby carrier, or what Braxton-Hicks contractions were (I kept calling them “Higgs-Boson” contractions.) But I do know that I love this little person and that I will do anything to make sure she is okay. I am completely okay with figuring it out along the way. I'm lucky to have a community of friends and family who are supporting me in this. I had to learn to be okay with others helping me; a hard thing to do for someone who is used to do it all on her own.
I get frustrated sometimes when people come up to me and tell me how much a child needs a mother and a father in order to grow up healthy and not end up a raving lunatic. There isn’t much I can do in these situations except for pretend to listen and smile. But I can’t wait to explain to my daughter that families come in all shapes and sizes: Some have a mother and a father, others have a mother or a father, there are those who have two mothers or two fathers and still yet there are families that have a few moms and dads and that every single one of these families are beautiful. I feel no shame raising a child as a single mother and I do not feel like a victim. I may not be the perfect parent and there are still so many unanswered and scary questions that I know I will have to face but those answers will come with time.
Yeah, it wasn't the damn plan but honestly my plan wasn't working. I don't believe in fate or destiny but this little girl (who will be born in November) has completely changed my life for the better. I don't want to do things anymore, I just do them. She's shown me-without even being here yet- that my life is worth something if I believe it is. I want to travel with her, show her new and old ways of living, let her grow in her creativity and imagination. I want her to see the beauty and sadness in this world, be compassionate and strong, to run in the tall grass and forests like I once did. In realizing these things for my daughter I also realized that I wanted all of these things for myself.
Buckle up, Bree. This will be one insane journey.
