Perfect With Imperfections

PART 1 - iv

That’s when the little blue line shone positive. After four pregnancy tests I still couldn’t believe, two sets of birth control hadn’t worked. I was pregnant, with your child. A small baby swimming inside of me waiting nine and a half long months before it would come kicking and screaming out of me.
I wasn’t going to tell you.
Until one day I had no choice. Sat on your bathroom floor throwing up into the toilet. You screaming it was your fault, you didn’t think you were good in bed. You idiot.
“I’m pregnant you idiot!” I just let it out.
I’d never seen anyone look so horror stricken in my life. You slid to the floor, mouth open staring at me. I knew from that moment I was going to abort the baby. We’d been together a little over a year. I wasn’t ready to be a teenage mother, and I knew the idea of being a father would drive you away.
“I’ll abort the baby. You don’t need to worry about it.” I lay my head on the cool porcelain toilet seat. Closing my eyes waiting for the sickness to pass.

Six weeks later, after countless consultations with doctors, nurses, shrinks and other teenage mothers, I was waiting to walk into surgery to have it removed. Killed.
I haven’t told anyone other than you. I felt my stomach, squeezing my belly tightly. Hurting myself. The tears started rolling at my own stupidity. The look on your face killed me inside. How could you love me like this?
But that’s when the doors burst open. You came running through, hair a mess and eyes streaming red from tears. Collapsing on the floor you put your head on my abdomen, hands around my waist.
“You can’t get rid of it. That’s our baby! We can’t kill it. I can be a dad. We can do it Courts. Please don’t kill it.” I heard my name being called, it was now or never.

Was I fit to be a mother?

We walked out those doors together.