Dear Becky — I was seven weeks pregnant. I didn’t know what to do. I considered abortion for about five seconds. I felt I had to protect our baby already!

I went to tell my boyfriend.  They had been cooking Garlic something for a family dinner. The minute the aroma reached my nostrils, I was so nauseated I couldn’t stand. We sat for dinner and I took one look at the pasta and ran to the guest bathroom and threw up. This was the lowest moment of my life (until then), sitting on the tile and him rubbing my back. His mother walked in and said, “I will assume this was your fault.” He didn’t reply.

Dear Becky — I have known my boyfriend since before I can remember… We were the kids that are on the black and white cards in the grocery store. Adorable and fated to be with each other. He moved away in fourth grade. He moved back to southern California our freshman year of high school.. We started right where we left off, we were inseparable. He went to the brother school of the all girls Catholic school I went to. We became sexually active not to long afterward … My mother (a devout Catholic) would always infer to be “careful” but never broached the subject of “safe sex” with me, because that was unholy and my body was a vessel for Jesus.  I truly didn’t want to burn in hell for our sins (sex) or as the nuns said our fornication.

We stopped having sex. After a football game, a stumbling defense man and an admiring school girl created one of the most precious things known to man. I tried to convince myself that I had missed my period because of stress from my overly competitive school, but one day, it finally clicked. I did the first thing I can remember against my parent’s wishes, I ditched school to go to Planned Parenthood. I was seven weeks pregnant. I didn’t know what to do. I considered abortion for about five seconds. I felt I had to protect our baby already!

I went to tell my boyfriend. They had been cooking Garlic something for a family dinner. The minute the aroma reached my nostrils, I was so nauseated I couldn’t stand. We sat for dinner and I took one look at the pasta and ran to the guest bathroom and threw up. This was the lowest moment of my life (until then), sitting on the tile and him rubbing my back. His mother walked in and said, “I will assume this was your fault.” He didn’t reply.

When I recovered from the nausea, he sat me on his bed and asked me if I was pregnant. Of course I responded with yes, and his expression never wavered. He told me everything would be alright. I told my parents within the next few days. I was too scarred to tell them, they didn’t tolerate unwed mothers, and as hyped Catholics, I was ima! Gaining my parents reaction was going to be good… My boyfriend told them and I sat in the next room on the couch. You could have heard a pin drop, they told him to go home, but he refused. He was worried about me, and spent the night on the floor outside my bedroom (My parents wouldn’t let him sleep with me).

The next morning I dressed in the uniform and walked downstairs like every other morning. This morning was different.  Two tall, bald men stood in the kitchen. My parents explained to me this wasn’t tolerated in this house, and I had two options: abortion or a unwed mother’s boarding school. That morning, I packed my bags for my correctional schooling. My parents told everyone I had gone to summer camp early. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to my Boyfriend. When I got there, I was rooming with a girl who had a eating disorder. My boyfriend had no idea where I had gone. He begged my parents to tell me. He eventually told them, if they didn’t tell him where I was, that he would tell the church that I was pregnant. My parents never felt remorseful for sending me away. I was miserable with women who were very sick.. with eating disorders, unplanned pregnancies, drug addictions, and such. My parents went as far as to pick out a couple who lived in New York to adopt my daughter. I flatly refused this. She was my daughter and there was no way in hell I was going to give her up.  Come hell or shine, she was my baby, our baby.

After receiving information about where I was, my boyfriend convinced my mother to come get me. My mother arrived when I was eight months pregnant. She said we would strike a deal. I could keep my daughter if I promised to go to college in two years and finish high school. I agreed. The moment I saw my boyfriend, I felt every emotion over the last five months melt. He held me for a long time and just told me to cry. When I was seventeen, I gave birth to my Daughter Kennah Deirdre… The day our daughter was born was the best day. She comes with no sleep, frustration, and she tends to be very expensive, but it was worth it. No matter what our parents think.

My daughter developed a pretty horrible cold a few weeks ago. I gave her Tylenol and other remedies but she couldn’t shake it. Her cough seemed to develop deeper and deeper and became more and more raspy.

I began to worry. My boyfriend said that if she wasn’t better by Sunday, then we would take her to the doctor. She didn’t make it. As of early this week, my daughter was diagnosed with pneumonia. She is on a ventilator and unconscious. She is lifeless, no sparkle in her eyes or rosiness in her cheeks. She can’t even cry, she just moans.

Last week, Kennah was saying Mama and Dada. We began trying to teach her how to walk. She laughed and played with us. She was still our baby. I sit and watch her chest rise and fall, but this isn’t normal and machine is doing it. I touch her face and stroke her arms, but she is clammy and hot. I whisper encouragement and tell her to have strength, but she doesn’t respond. It’s six o clock and my baby, the only thing in the world that depends on me and is my soul responsibility, is slipping away from me, and all I can do is watch.

After all we have been through, after all the trials, I will never see her walk, or walk her up to the first day of kindergarten. I will never take her to brownies. I will never cheer for her in any sports. I will never take pictures of her going to her first high school dance. I will never watch her graduate high school, and I will never help her pick out a white dress for the most important day of her life. I will never tell her how beautiful she is and tell her that he doesn’t deserve her. Never will I do those things unless she fights. How is it I fought so hard to keep her, I went through so much pain to hold her and protect her, but in the end it hadn’t mattered. This joy and blessing that was mine has slowly slipped from my open arms into oblivion. Her joy, smiles, dimples, and knowing look will always be at the back of my mind.

As I sit here and doctors fly in and out to and from all I want to do is push pause. I want to grab her and cradle what little life is left in her fragile body and conjole her to live. How is a life so small mean so much.

Where is the justice in this? What has her life being taken accomplish. I cry and hold my boyfriend and he sits and cries and we mourn our daughter together.

Doctors are telling us there isn’t anything left. They medically can’t do anything. It is in her. So should I fight for her plead with her, but what if she doesn’t fight? Should I be mad that she didn’t fight harder?  How is that fair? My poor baby, my sweet angel.

God Bless you, Kennah Deirdre..

Mommy loves you

UPDATE:  Kennah Deirdre passed away on Friday 4-4-07. This angel touched your hearts. For only just a while. To teach you what it means to love. And show you how to smile. She could not stay for long. For God soon would call her home. But she left behind these memories. To carry with you when you roam. She taught you though her courage and the strength it took to live. And to see her eyes and smile. Oh, what you wouldn’t give. Now your tears of sorrow fall. But through each tear there is a light. For this end is not goodbye. Its only time till you’ll unite. For one day, the skies will open. And God’s hands, they will unfold.

And your precious baby will await

For your arms to hold. So till then, hold on. Keep her legend in your hearts. And know the journey isn’t done.

It’s only just the start…

Devyn

Dearest Devyn,

I’m Lisa and I help Becky at the Stand Up Girl website with some of her e-mail. I truly had to sit back and get my composure back as I read your e-mail.  So descriptive from the beautiful heart of a loving mother … you. I know that your story will touch the heart of – if not hundreds – thousands of girls all over the world!

Devyn – I am so so very very sorry you are experiencing this terrible ordeal right now … but I would also like to share with you.

As I have prayed for you.  Jesus is truly very real – and He hears your and my prayers.  I’m terribly sorry for your loss and I hope that you can find comfort soon. In the meantime Devyn – will you please let me know how you are? I wish I could give you a great big hug and hug the pain away.  But you must go down this trail of life.  I’m here any time you’d like to talk. OK?

Much Luv – Lisa