What followed my getting suspended from school was a remarkable four months or so…
South African schools run from January to December and I was suspended at about the end of October, and Damien was due on April 6th the next year. I went to school to write my exams during the weeks that followed- but that was it. I had to wear civilian clothes because I was in disgrace and so was not allowed to wear the school uniform (every school in South Africa has a uniform), but I enjoyed that and took every opportunity to show off my baby bump! I got such a kick out of everyone knowing I was pregnant and that I loved my baby and that I intended to keep it!
My baby daddy was also writing his exams as his suspension had the same terms mine did- and we had similar grade 11 subjects- but even when we saw each other at the school, we barely spoke. On the one day, I tried showing him the ultrasound pictures from my OB-GYN visit the week before, half hoping I could kindle some kind of paternal fascination for the little bean growing inside me… but he hardly even looked up. I think that may well have been the day that I came to the total realization that there was no future for us together at all.
I tried to carry on as “normally” as I could. When my grade 11 “home room” class had a year-end celebration at a classmate’s house, I was invited; and I would see friends on weekends as well. And when the schools reopened in the January, I attended sports events and the school beauty pageant and basically attempted to live as if I had finished high school the year before instead of having had to leave. I kept a lot of my friends, and made many new ones… discovering people cared, when I didn’t even know they knew who I was, was just one of the surprises in store for me… but I also lost a few friends- and some of my friends’ parents reacted like pregnancy was contagious or something!
I was exceptionally blessed in that my parents (and later my family)- after getting over the initial shock- were fully accepting of my pregnancy and looked forward to Damien’s arrival like any grandparents would!
My parents were in their late thirties at the time and so were understandably surprised! They also backed my decision not to marry my baby daddy- I wanted to finish school and study further before I even thought about getting married. Back then, South Africa’s education department policies did not allow pregnant girls to stay at school and as a result, we decided to keep my pregnancy as quiet as possible so I could finish the school year. But after I split with my son’s father, we were still going to the same high school, so I saw him every day. I cried non-stop for weeks on end, which caused endless rumours to spread around the school- everything from me having a drug problem to my supposedly committing suicide!! It was very hard… especially since he continued to live as though this were a “normal” break up and started dating again soon afterwards. Since I was not behaving like this was a “normal” break up; the rumours spread quickly- reaching the teacher’s ears, as these things do.
By the time the school’s vice principal confronted me about the stories, I was almost four months pregnant and we only had about a week to go before the year’s final exams started. My ex and I were called into the office after the vice principal asked me if I was pregnant and I simply said “yes” (and I’ll never forget the look on her face) and we were then told we could complete our final exams, but would not be allowed to return to the school. Our parents were contacted as well, of course. I went straight from the principal’s office to recess, and told all my friends what was happening- that I was pregnant and that I had been suspended and would be keeping my baby and everything I could think of apart from that! Since I lived near my school and had younger sisters and a brother who did (and would) attend the same school, and since I had no intention of vanishing off the face of the planet like so many girls who fell pregnant at school, I didn’t want any mystery surrounding why I was leaving the school.
That was my last day at school, and pretty much the last time I spoke to my son’s father- apart from a couple of lame attempts on my part (while we were writing our exams and I saw him at the school) to get him to see what was going on. Honestly, I think at that stage I still harboured a slim hope that we could keep contact if only for my son’s sake… He showed no interest in anything I said and by the time December came around and the schools closed for the Christmas holiday, I knew there was no hope for us- not even for a part-time parenting relationship.
As he grew older, I told him more- to begin with, only when he asked me a question, but slowly, I’d tell him things as I remembered them. I tell him the good things and the funny things that I can remember. And my family does the same. I tell him some of the “bad” things as well so he doesn’t think the man is superhuman or something!
I always think of my son’s father, at least a little, around Christmas and on my Damien’s birthday. Until Damien was about 7 years old, I did my level best not to think about his father at all. I had nightmares about him showing up and demanding to see my son- and for all that time, I never spoke his name out loud. It was only when I found myself working with three men with his name that I realized I was incapable of saying it. He had always been “him” or “you-know-who” or “Damien’s father” up till then.
So I got help… not immediately, but I got help. At first I tried to fool myself into thinking Damien may need help with having no father- but the psych I was seeing told me Damien was very well adjusted and very healthy and didn’t seem to have any problems with who he was and where he came from. I was the one who needed help dealing with it all. The one thing is that bugs me more than anything else- and on a regular basis- is that I cannot complete Damien’s family tree in any photograph albums or in his baby book. And every year from grade one to seven he had to do one for school as well. I know his father’s name, and I know his paternal grandparent’s names… but I just cannot seem to write them down and acknowledge them all as part of Damien’s family. Is that strange? I figure that since he isn’t on Damien’s birth certificate or on his christening certificate- that until he meets him one day, he isn’t part of this little family.
I pray with all my heart that by some miracle Damien can have his Disney movie reunion with his biological father one day (he refers to him as his “dad”- I have never thought of him that way) and all will be right with his world- even if I don’t have to speak to or see him.
Then when Damien was about two weeks old- he called the house.
I’ll never forget it- I went completely cold when I heard his voice on the line. For a split second, I thought maybe he wanted to see us and make something of his role as Damien’s biological father- but he didn’t even ask after him. Or me for that matter. All he could talk about was the motorcycle his parents had given him for Christmas. I was hurt and angry all over again, and I knew I had not been wrong about our future. I asked him to stay away from us, and I said that I would leave him alone and that he should leave us alone and we could all start over again. Simple? Yeah right.
Well, he agreed- and please understand me- I will ALWAYS be grateful to him and his family for sticking to that agreement. Many, MANY times I have considered tracking him down to talk to him- especially as Damien gets older and starts asking more and more questions and talking about his father more, but I never follow through with it. I never wanted to give him the impression that I wanted or needed him around. Tracking him down would be more for my own peace of mind than anything else- I have always told Damien that if he wants to, I’ll help him find his father when he’s 18 years old but not before. Contemplating contacting him is because I want to know what he’s going to say to Damien if he contacts him one day.
What “could” happen is one of my greatest fears. Maybe he decides he’d rather not get to know Damien at all. Is he going to tell him that? Maybe he decides to tell him our story differently to what I’ve told him. I mean, I KNOW we won’t remember things the same way. I have told him a lot about what happened when we split- obviously not everything- but enough for him to understand a small inkling about why I broke off all contact with his paternal family. And he does want to meet his father one day. I half hoped… wished he wouldn’t want to- that I would be “enough” for him. You see, I resolved- before he was born- that I would not lie to him, that I would tell him as much of the truth as I thought he could handle. Like when he was in nursery school and the other kids asked him where his dad was- I just said he should tell them you’d gone to marry someone else. Little kids can sorta understand that.
It’s been a long time coming- but I’d like to tell my whole story for all you all!
I was sixteen and a half years old. My boyfriend and I had been together for 10 months when I realised I was pregnant. I knew all about sex and babies and condoms… but I was in love! I also had a fabulous home life, so it wasn’t as if I was looking for affection that I didn’t get at home. I truly don’t remember telling him I thought I may be pregnant- but I do remember when we told his mother. I wanted to speak to my mom first, of course… but my boyfriend was in a hurry and told his mom- who was a midwife. She bought the pregnancy test- which still took an hour back then- and I went home and waited. My then-boyfriend called me with the results! I begged him to come over and at least just hold me or something…
When my ex told his mother I thought I may be pregnant, she gave me an injection; to either abort an early pregnancy or to start my period if it was just slow… at least that’s what she said. I didn’t ask what it was and she didn’t tell me. That didn’t work, so a couple days later she gave me two flat, white, rectangular tablet thingies to, um… insert into myself. Again- I didn’t ask- and those didn’t do anything either. If I think now, of the risks I took then, by allowing his mother to medicate me any way she saw fit… I shudder to think about it! And then his mother phoned my mother, and told her she had a doctor all lined up to perform a termination and that she would pay for it all (even though abortion was still illegal in South Africa back then). This was only a week or so after I did the pregnancy test and it was already clear in my mind that- although I hadn’t admitted it out loud to anyone- his mother didn’t want to know anything about my baby. I was still in love with my baby’s father though, and I hoped we could work something out for my son’s sake, even though I had no interest in getting married. Then when he told me about a family counseling session they’d had and how it had come out in the session that my ex’s family thought they had enough to deal with without an illegitimate child in the mix- I knew things weren’t going to work out and we broke up shortly afterwards.
Honestly? I don’t think he should have told me what his family had decided in their counseling session… If he hadn’t, we could very probably had a perfectly “normal” weekend parenting setup with maintenance and shared holidays and so on… But in a way, I think he wanted to get off the hook- and he knew that telling me what his parents had said was an angle he could use, even if it was only subconsciously. I think I was about 10 weeks pregnant by then. We broke up shortly after our first anniversary. There were no lawyers, and there was no paperwork involved. Everything was verbal. I spoke to him a few times again- when we saw each other. After we split, we were still writing our high school exams “together” and each time I saw him I tried to delude myself into thinking that we could at least be friends for my son’s sake.
Then after December, we didn’t see each other or speak again.
10th August – I went to my weekly appointment with the midwife and she said she was worried that my baby might be breech so she arranged an appointment for a scan to check on the Monday.
13th August – I had everything packed for the hospital as the midwife told me to be prepared just in case. We arrived at the hospital and I was seen straight away and I was taken for my scan.
The person doing the scan confirmed that my baby was breech, but there was also no water at all around my baby and that wasn’t a good thing because I didn’t even realize they had broken and then I was told I was 9cm dilated!! I had no pain at all!
They listened to the heartbeat and everything was fine but they insisted on getting me in for a emergency c section straight away.
I arrived at the hospital on the 13th at 11.00 am and was taken into the operating theatre at 6.15 pm.
And at 7.00 pm exactly, my daughter Talia Louise was born!!!!
It all happened really fast but it still was the best day of my life!
