The Patchwork Heart

Chapter 4

Their van arrived home in record time. I knew they had probably closed the store for the day, but I couldn't handle the situation alone. I wasn't in any position to take care of myself at that moment. When they came into the house I didn't say a word, I just crossed the foyer to them and handed my mom the positive pregnancy test. They both looked at it, seemingly confused at first. After a moment or two they started at each other, eyes wide before engulfing me in a hug on either side.

"Oh Bree, baby, no." my mom whispered into my hair. I didn't return their embraces, I was numb. I just let them wrap me up as tight as possible. My dad pulled my face into the crook of his neck and held my head there softly. I knew they wouldn't be angry; after everything I had been through there was no point in being angry. I knew they would just be sad with me. We stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other and breathing.

I focused on my breathing. It was the best thing I could do at that moment. My mom eventually pulled away and went to the phone. She called the doctor's office and made an appointment for me the next day to confirm what we all already knew. My dad continued to hold me. I was afraid to let go of him, and I think he felt the same. It was like I would float away if I didn't hang on to him, he was my only lifeline.

"How long have you known?" my mom asked as she returned to my side and wrapped her arms around me again.

I shrugged, "I thought I wasn't getting my period because of the trauma. I didn't really notice I hadn't go it in two months."

My dad's breath hitched in his chest, "Damn that boy." Though I was crying a little, I couldn't help but chuckle. Even though he couldn't be angry at the dead, he was still a father of a pregnant teenage daughter. He wanted to punch Dex, and somehow that made me smile.

My mom sighed, "We will figure out what to do, Bree. You will never be alone, not for a single step of this. No matter what you decide to do."

I nodded but said nothing. I had no idea what I was going to do. There was so much to think about, so many options. My dad pulled back for a moment and looked down at me, "I'm tempted to go up to heaven and kick that boy's ass."

We all laughed out loud, even though tears were shed all around. A part of me needed that laugh. The rest of me was relieved I had wonderful parents who would make sure I was safe and taken care of.

The rest of the day my parents and I sat together around our kitchen table with my laptop in the middle. We researched all different kinds of options for my situation. As we read through all the different web pages full of information, I thought about all the young women who had been in this position before me. What did they do? How did they feel? Was my situation that unique?

My mom told me there was no shame in having an abortion if I wanted to. I was young and I didn't' owe anyone an explanation. If that was what I decided to do, she would book the appointment for me and we would go to the city and get it done.

Dad suggested adoption. He wasn't a fan of the abortion talk, but he was clear that because he didn't have a uterus he didn't want his opinion to be considered. He told me that a couple of my second cousins were adopted and it was a good choice. I could give a family who wanted a baby the greatest gift, a chance to complete their dream.

It was so overwhelming. Though I knew I wasn't alone in this situation, it was all so much to process. We made some Kraft Dinner for supper and I went up to my room with my laptop after that. I stopped looking at the pregnancy websites and moved to the slide show from Dex's funeral. Garrett had put together a beautiful collection of pictures and set it to music for the funeral. I was in so many of them next to Dex.

As the pictures flew past my screen I couldn't stop myself from admiring my boyfriend's adorable smile, his dark brown eyes and his dirty blonde hair. Would our baby have any of those features? Who would they look like? Would they have his sense of humor? Would they walk like him, sound like him, be like him at all? Who would this little person grow up to be?

I paused the slide show at a picture of Dex and I from the grad party the year before when we were in grade eleven. He had his arms wrapped around me, I was leaning back into his chest. We were both laughing with huge smiles across our lips. If I focused really hard, I could remember how I felt in that moment with his arms around me. I could feel him, I could smell him, I could hear his breathing. I thought to myself, what if this baby is just like him? What would that mean for me? There was so much to think about.

The next day, my mom went with me to the doctor. They drew blood and confirmed I was pregnant. As we drove home we didn't walk. Mom didn't push or try to talk me into anything, she just let me absorb the confirmation we both already knew. When we got home I went directly to my room and closed the door softly behind myself. I wanted to be alone to think about everything. This was the rest of my life I was considering, not just a snap decision to be made on a whim. It wasn't just me anymore, it was bigger, it felt cosmic. As I stared up at the ceiling I wished Dex was there with me, to help me figure it out. What would he have said? How would he have taken it? I wished more then anything I could have asked him; it broke my heart that he wasn't there to talk to.

I didn't go down for supper that night. My dad brought up some microwave pizza to my room and left it on my dresser. Before he left me alone again he told me, "Sweetie, I promise, no matter what you decide, your mom and I are here for you. Just say it, and we are there, 100%." I looked up at him and offered a soft smile, "I'm sorry, dad."

My dad shook his head, "No, Bree. You have nothing to be sorry for. I am proud of you. You are the strongest person I know; look at what you have already survived. There is no one tougher then you." I reached for my dad and pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. I didn't consider myself strong at all, I had fallen apart when Dex died. To be told I was strong sounded preposterous, but I was looking at myself through my own eyes. Maybe I looked different through someone else's.

As my dad slipped out of my room I looked at myself in the mirror above my dresser. I looked a mess, my hair up in a ponytail that was half falling out. There were bags under my eyes from crying and lack of sleep. My lips were dry and chapped. I was a mess. I knew I had lost a bit of weight since Dex's death, from not eating properly or regularly. I forced myself to stare at my reflection and remember what my dad had just told me. I was strong, I was determined, I was a fighter.

I pulled my hair out of the ponytail and let it fall down my back. As I ran my fingers through it, smoothing it out, I started to recognize the girl in the mirror. The Bree Kendell I knew. She was fierce, she was funny, she was brave. Most importantly, she could do anything she wanted to do with her life. I was done crying; I was done hiding away in my room. I wanted to smile again and I had a very good reason to. I was young, but I had an excellent support system. I felt as though I had lived twenty years in the last two months. I had been down a terrible road of loss and I had come out the other side with scars but I had survived. I wasn't going to let the sorrow beat me down, I was going to get up and move forward because that is what I had to do.

The next morning, I got up early and went downstairs to make breakfast. Over my bowl of Corn Flakes I told my parents, "I know you are both here for me and I appreciate it. I am going to keep this baby and raise them. I've thought about it and I don't want to let them go."

My mom and dad looked at each other and then back to me, my dad nodded. My mom smiled at me but her eyes were scared, she asked, "Are you sure that's what you want to do baby?"

I nodded, "Yes. This is what I want to do. I want this baby; this is my choice."