I closed the door on that relationship.
I walked out on someone that I thought cared about me. That wanted to build a future with me. That saw past my facade and wanted to know the true me.
But it was all a dream. A nightmare really. A boy pretends to love a girl and a girl falls for it. Pathetic huh?
But, I pushed forward. Determined to make him love me in spite of his resistance. Why? Because I needed love.Not necessarily his love. But, the love of a man who thought I was both beautiful and smart. A man with a career and security clearance.
No crazy stalkers. I needed security.
I changed. I became one of those women that did anything to keep a man. Sex was good. Not the best. But, not the worst. Conversations were okay. No depth. No real connection.
He had charm. He was a gentleman. He was a provider. I wanted more. He didn’t.
Our last time together was probably the best we ever had. Lots of kissing, alcohol and sex. We laughed. It had been too long. I let my guard down and gave everything I had.
While he slept, I grabbed my clothes and sneaked out the room. I didn’t want to wake up here. With him. He didn’t deserve it. Truthfully, neither did I.
I blocked his number from my phone. I ignored his emails. I acted as though he didn’t exist. Because he didn’t. He couldn’t.
It had been 6 months since I last laid with him. Physically, spiritually or emotionally. No contact. But, how long could I continue to ignore him? I rubbed my growing belly and sighed.
His seed was here with us. A reminder of our last night together. A girl. She angrily kicked me. I winced. She apparently wanted to know her daddy. Ugh!
I got up to go to the bathroom. My dang bladder could never hold more than eight ounces before the pregnancy and now I was just peeing every 10 minutes. Drink plenty of water they kept telling me. I did. All the time.
As I hobbled to the bathroom and sat on the toilet I felt a gush of fluid. I started to cramp. Painful cramping. Worse than my menstrual cramps. I screamed. I was bleeding. There was blood in the toilet. I kept cramping.
I grabbed a pad and put it in my panties. I tried to wipe as much blood as possible and pulled up my panties. I went into my bedroom and grabbed my cell phone. I called 911.
I unlocked the door to the house. I sat in the wooden kitchen chair. I didn’t want to bleed on my new sofa. I waited for the ambulance. I remember hearing the sirens.
Tired. I was so tired. Someone was yelling for me to tell my name. Why are you yelling at me?
I woke up in the hospital. A tiny room. White and sterile. I felt my stomach. My baby.
I started to panic. I pushed the call button. The nurse came in. I asked Where is my baby?
She said the doctor was going to come in and talk to me. I started to cry. She begged me to calm down. She sat there rubbing my arm. The doctor came in.
I was in a daze. He said that I suffered a placenta abruption. Dangerous. Deprived the baby of oxygen. She’s premature. She weighs 4 pounds. Trying to stabilize her. He asked was there someone I could call. My husband? Any family?
I wasn’t married. I rubbed my empty ring finger. I was another statistic. I was going to raise the baby on my own. I felt alone for the first time in my life. My little girl needed me. I told him that I would make a few calls.
I asked the nurse to take a picture of my baby with my cell phone so that I can see her. Please I begged. She agreed.
I sat there wondering how I would tell him that I was pregnant and that I had a baby. What the hell do you say to someone that you haven’t talked to in months? The nurse returned and I saw her. She was so tiny. Beautiful, but tiny.
Wow! I’m a mommy. I sent him a text message that said. We have a daughter. She and I need to see you. Please come. I attached the picture of our daughter and prayed that he would show up.
This post is inspired by the Daily Post. The word that I selected was tiny.