My boyfriend just told me the condom broke and I would be 1 month on the 26th.
He is by my side. My best friends know my mom don’t know. I am scared to tell her. I don’t know she’s gonna take it. I am gonna keep my baby.
Help me. What should I do?
Hey girls, it’s Me again,
I’m a little excited, nervous, don’t know what to think. I had sex with my boyfriend a couple weeks ago (on my ovulation day) and today, (which would be my 3rd week of pregnancy if I am pregnant) I’m getting little twinges in my lower abdomen and feeling real tired…. Could it be?? I know it’s a little early to tell for sure, but it might be right? Maybe it’s my own mind idk, but girls cross your fingers for me. This might be my lucky month!….
I’m sooooo nervous to know. I’ll keep you posted!
XX
I don’t even know what I am feeling anymore. My story goes a little like this.
I started dating this guy and he seemed to be everything I was looking for. He was respectful, genuine, smart, and kind. We started out slow and hung out a lot before we even started to date. I was his first girlfriend, but he was like my fifth boyfriend. I was excited to finally meet a guy that had all of these qualities. So about one month into our relationship, he was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. I was really scared and didn’t really know what to do except to be there for him. The doctors did not really know what was going to happen. He could die or live. I did not understand why this was happening?? Why did the guy that I finally had true feelings for have to be put up against that? But I finally gave it up and gave it to God. I promised this guy that I would be there in tell the end and that I would be a supportive girlfriend to him. The chemotherapy was intense! Many nights and days in the hospital. I spent many nights sleeping on the floor of his hospital room to help him when he needed someone to talk to. I even rubbed his back at 3 in the morning when he was puking. Not only was this a big stress on me but also the stress of my family was breaking me down.
After a very long summer of this, it was close to the end of his treatment. One night we sat and had a very in depth conversation about sex. He expressed to me that he was very afraid that he would not be able to experience it if he died. I loved him very much and never wanted him to experience something so awful. I also had my own morals to think about. We both decided that we wanted to have sex. So one night when he was home from the hospital, we had sex. It was the most wonderful thing at the time. We said goodbye and he kissed my lips and said I love you for the first time! I was so giddy when I got into my car and drove home. The next morning, I felt something awful and had a huge migraine. I stayed home from school. I called my boyfriend later in the afternoon to tell him that I was not feeling well. He sounded really sad and so I asked what was wrong. He said it was me. I was what was wrong with him. He said he didn’t want to be with me anymore and that I was too needy. I bursted out in tears and could not control myself. I felt like I wanted to die! I went straight over to my best friend’s house and she finally calmed me down. I can not even write the feelings I was feeling though.
So we still talked even though we were broke up and recognized that we still both had feelings for each other. One night, a couple nights after we broke up, we spent 4 hours crying in his room together. That next Monday, we decided that we still wanted to be together. I was so happy… but still had a lot of trust issues. About 3 weeks later, he broke up with me again. I could not believe it. My heart was truly broke. I was not only emotionally sick, but physically too. Every morning I was throwing up and had constant headaches. I didn’t really think anything of it at the time and just thought it was stress. The amount of pain that I was feeling was so unbearable. I was talking to my friend and she asked me if it was possible that I was pregnant. I told her no.. we just had sex one time.. and then it hit me. Maybe I am pregnant. So many thoughts running though my mind. Not the least that the doctor told my boyfriend that he should not have any children because of the chemo and the baby would most likely have some retardation issues. How could I take care of a baby especially when it needed extra care? I could not even give up the baby for adoption. I could not believe what I had done.
I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. I just cried for days. Now you would think someone would notice me crying but since I lived with my grandma because my mom was abusive, she was gone most of the time.
I had a choice to make. I didn’t even tell anyone I was doing it. I got an abortion. I still have not forgiven myself. I don’t know if I ever will. I went and got it done by myself and told no one. I think that was the worst part. I am always someone to share my thoughts and fears with my closest loved ones.. but not this time. I just assumed that everyone that I loved would look down on me. The only person that I told after I had it done was my ex-boyfriend (the one who got me pregnant) and he was so angry. Saying that it was my fault that I was pregnant in the first place and he wanted nothing to do with me or my emotional baggage. I could not understand. Sure I wanted it, but didn’t he want it too? Could he not take some responsibility for his actions?
Just when I thought I was in the lowest of lows, I went over to a friends house that I had not had contact with in months. We were just sitting on her bed talking and then all the sudden, I started bawling. I could not control my tears and I was so embarrassed. She held me and offered to listen if I needed to talk. I told her what I had done and she started crying. I was really shocked and asked why she was crying. She told me that she had had an abortion only two weeks before I did. I was so surprised. We just hugged and cried together for hours. Just when I thought I had no one, one of my friends had gone through the exact same thing and I didn’t even know it.
Now… that could be enough for a 17 year old girl to handle.. but then I had my home situation to deal with. My grandma decided to make me move back into my moms because I was staying home from school too much because I was sick….. (but she had no idea why I was getting sick). I moved back into my house and started going to school again. Once I got back to school, all these rumors started.. I just could not take it anymore. I decided to just take two classes online to get my diploma.
So somehow my mom found out that I had an abortion and FREAKED out! She took away everything… including my books and just told me to stay in my room in tell I admitted to her that I was lying about having the abortion. She didn’t believe me. She said I was a liar and she wanted proof that I had one. I have never been one to lie to my parents or go against them. I could not understand why she was so angry. She left for work so I grabbed my phone and just started walking. I took a bus to my friends house and I have not been home since. I don’t think she really cares though. She knows where I am but still doesn’t care. She told me I am not her daughter anymore and she wants nothing to do with me. This hurts bad… real bad. But you know what I do have. I have my church and my best friends. My church is now looking for somewhere for me to stay and I am very grateful for them.
I still have a lot of emotional issues as well as physical. I am so disappointed in society today. It seems like there is no room for mistakes anymore. People just expect everyone to be perfect. I don’t know how it is at other schools but the girls at my school who get pregnant are labeled as the “sluts” That is so not fair!!! What about the people who are not sluts, it just happened? I think every girl is a wonderful gift from God and I only wish every girl would see that, including me sometimes. I know that in my mind, what I did was wrong.. but at the same time I know it was right. I still struggle to wake up every morning but the thought of me being a good wife and mother someday gets me up. The thought that I could have an impact on someone else’s life also gets me up in the morning. I am so very grateful for my friends and small group for the amount of support I have gotten in the last couple of weeks. I can’t imgine why I didn’t tell these people in the beginning. I know I was scared and just wanted to make things right for myself.
If anyone has any advice or something to say, I would love to hear it.
Well as you probably know by now, me and my boyfriend are trying to have a baby. However, I have been experiencing a few problems with my period as I mentioned before. A couple of days ago, I got my period, but it was 2 weeks after my last one, which is unusual. I have read that it could be spotting due to ovulation, but it seems a bit heavy.
I really want to have my boyfriend’s child as I love him deeply and I know how much he too wants a child but it feels as though everytime I take a few steps towards become pregnant, I pushed back another hundred but I’m determined not to give up as I do believe eventually, its going to have to happen.
Anyway, I’ve decided to take control of the situation and map my fertility, whatever that means.
On a happier note, it’s my birthday on Monday which will help to take things off my mind.
And then I got to uni.
I did a lot of things I regret, but maybe I needed them. Sometimes, I didn’t go to lectures; I went for walks instead. I looked at the birds and the trees and really appreciated everything. I did a lot of stupid things, and I must have acted irrationally. I still wasn’t sure where I was or how I had ended up here.
I wore the most ridiculous outfits; I wanted to be so pretty, so successful, so everything. For the first semester, I put my baby into daycare for four long days of every week, and I would sometimes spend them by myself, sitting there, and sometimes memories would come to my mind, and I didn’t like that. Maybe it was good that I had four months to understand that I was finally safe. Maybe. But I still wish I had spent more time with my little baby.
But my baby grew up, and I finally realised that time didn’t stand still. What was yesterday was quickly turning into today, and I had to make the most of it. My baby turned one, and I realised I had to stop doing what I was doing.
I got back up on my feet. In fact, I found them again. I found my voice; nobody was going to scare me into submissiveness again. I didn’t want to fear my past. I found that I was worth something; that this body is worth something, it belongs to ME and I decide what happens with it, not somebody else.
That my feelings counted; that when I said things, I wasn’t lying, I was telling the truth, telling my side of the picture.
I learned to put yesterday behind and try to focus on today, and tomorrow, but mostly today. For today is only here for one day.
And now my little baby, that yesterday was just born, is not a baby anymore, nor a toddler. My baby is a little boy now, who understands so much of what is going on around him.
If not for me, it’s for him I needed to find my feet again. And it seems I may actually have done that. I can look back on yesterday and say, I’ve being there, I saw that.
But I’m not there anymore, I’m here. I’m here living for today. Because that’s the only day I’m going to have to live it. One day, and one day only.
So the time passes, the time flies.
Yesterday, my ancestors were settling the banks of the Volga.
Yesterday, my great grandfather was returning from the Great War a hero.
Yesterday, my parents had just met in a small restaraunt.
Yesterday, a little girl was just born, with the umbilical cord wrapped around her neck, but as soon as she could breathe, she screamed so hard the world nearly toppled over.
Yesterday, I was going to daycare, kindy, drawing, playing with her friends.
Yesterday, I sat on a plane with my parents and flew away to another country.
I went to school there, I got bullied and then I a bully.
My parents went nuts, and I spiralled downwards as well.
Yesterday, darkness came. An all-engulfing darkness, with blue walls with metallic flowers on them, every day, every day, looking at the same thing, locked in my house that’s a prison.
Wet puddles with petrol in them and crouching behind the car in the garage so I wouldn’t be found.
Knives that my own hand cut my own body with.
Pills that went into my mouth and a belt being swung high in the air. The nurse making me drink charcoal after.
Homelessness. Fear. Cold.
Sitting in the public toilets, writing on my legs, pulling back the dirty school uniform, in blue biro, ‘I will never give up.’
Yesterday, I met the one I gave my heart away to. Everything away to, body, heart, dreams. He had huge big blue eyes, a huge nose, thick nearly black hair. He was tall, he was funny. I loved him with all her heart, and I wanted to be with him forever.
Forever sounds like a big word, but I wasn’t afraid of forever. The only forever I could be afraid of was a forever without him. Who could worry about protection?
We did it everywhere, everywhere public that is; I had no permanent home. His mother thought I was a prostitute, although I had only been with one guy. One Friday night, beneath a starry September sky in a secret place near the place she boarded at, a Mormon’s house, a miracle happened. God decided to save me from the knife and the scissors that I cut my hands with my own hands, and my absolute hopelessness in life.
God gave me a baby.
But I lost her first love. I don’t like to remember all the things that happened.
That wasn’t yesterday, it was almost like it was a second ago, the pain is as clear as a dew on a leaf in the morning. It’s like it wasn’t even to me anyway. Maybe it was all a dream. I like to think so anyway. I see those dreams sometimes when I sleep, but not so often anymore.
But God gave me a miracle: my little Alexander.
Yesterday, he was born, his huge scream drowning out everything else, and I demanded that my baby be put into my arms right then and there.
Then time did a strange thing. It became three hour cycles of eating, sleeping, changing. It stopped going at its usual pace, and I started eating again, and sleeping like a baby when I could again, and I had such a goal. I barely had time to dwell on all my goals, I just had to do them.
Yesterday, I got that school graduate certificate. I did it.
Yesterday, I cried on my first night in my own place; we had nothing, just a suitcase full of clothes and baby essentials, a few cans of baby food, and my little seven month old boy sleeping on a sheet on MY mattress in MY room in MY house. I cried, and for a month, I barely let the key go out of my hand. I wasn’t used to staying in the same place for that long. It was scary. Nobody was going to kick me out or hurt me. I didn’t have to hide anywhere. I sat in front of the TV for hours at night with a bowl of cereal, and kept on looking around me to check whether I was in trouble — but I wasn’t! I was the head of the household now, and this was MY house!
Or I would sit at the kitchen table for a long time, and nothing would happen. I could walk around my house and nothing happened. I got out of the habit of sitting in a corner of the room for hours on end.
That was the beginning of freedom.
