ℝ𝔸ℕ𝔻𝕐 & 𝕁𝔸ℂ𝕂𝕃𝕐ℕ 𝕆ℕ𝔼𝕊ℍ𝕆𝕋𝕊🏳️🌈

The obstetrician pt.1 (Randy)

ANDY'S POV
You are special

When I was little my mom always told me I was special, but I just couldn't understand what could be special about me. I was a good child and over time I became the person my mom wanted me to be: a good person with a heart full of love, love that I would share with the world. This was what made me different from my peers.

I grew up very fast and it all started when my mom got into a car crash. Somehow the house had to be maintained, my mum needed medical attention for rehabilitation and I went out of my way to do whatever needed to be done.

When I was seventeen I left school, I started working, but it wasn't enough, so I had to sell a lot of furniture in the house that was not used or that was used little, then I reduced the number of meals and the amount of food for each. meal.

My mother, after a year of rehabilitation, was able to start walking as before. I felt like I was in a movie when my mom told me that she and her physiotherapist were together and loved each other.

Over time I saw that she felt more and more forced to be in London, too many bad memories, and I felt like I was trapping her. So she went to live with her partner, leaving her free to live her life.

Then? I had a job and I lived in a studio apartment, I had everything I needed. But then everything fell apart and in six months I found myself on the street, all my things in a backpack.

The cause why I was now where I was was because I somehow had to eat. Selling my body to men I had never even seen wasn't the solution, but I was really hungry and couldn't take it anymore. No one wanted me as a worker in some proper places so I had to.

"You are special" my mom kept telling me, but what was so special about a twenty-one boy, pregnant and in prison? What?!

I found out I was pregnant because I kept vomiting, it was a constant vomiting that had its own precise rhythm; then my belly started to get bigger and bigger, it started to take a round shape. And there the reality hit me.

I had to fight to get permission to leave this prison and go to a real hospital in order to have an ultrasound. I just wanted to know if my baby was healthy and if there was a need for me to take vitamins or medicines. They kept saying I was pretending and that pregnancy was just an excuse to get out of that shit place.

I wasn't even dangerous, there were guys in there who could kill you with a single glance, I was quite the opposite and that was also why I was always and constantly treated badly and differently from others. There was always a perfect excuse to make fun of me and I was the only one. Meanwhile the guard who had made me pregnant walked quietly inside and outside the prison, he would go home to his wife when his shift was over. I was forced to the bed in my cell, it wasn't even a kind of room like the others', and his baby grew in my womb.

Having an abortion might have been a choice, but not my choice. When I had the first ultrasound I was already in the third month of pregnancy and an abortion was no longer possible.

I did the first ultrasound with handcuffs on my wrists, my tears of happiness, for the first time of happiness, dried on their own with the cold air of that day. The last ultrasound, a few days earlier, I had done with handcuffs on my wrists and two guards staring at me and judging me.

My little girl was fine, she was healthy and growing exactly as she should. This little girl, although born of abuse, was truly bringing so much happiness into my life. I was practically excluded from everything and everyone, forced into my room, but I had her. My big bump was impossible to miss and she always kept me company.

I spent my days with her, I talked to her, I sang to her, I told her stories invented and she responded with strong and sweet kicks at the same time. She was my happiness, my only reason for living.