4-6-15

Before I found out I was pregnant I considered myself responsible, but I always did things the “easy way out” just so I can go party with my friends. My priorities were school over anything but that got blurry once I got a taste of “freedom.” The only reason I thought going out to parties was considered freedom was because I felt apart of something. I made friends with people who I barely even knew and who supposedly had my back. Now that I think of it, I never had a group of real friends who I called my own and was able to keep them because I was an Army brat and because I was too shy to warm up to them. When I did get the chance, it was in high school and too late because those friends were always a year older than me, graduating and moving on with their lives. The only people who I thought had my back at that time and road with me to parties was my cousin Callie, and a few other slutty girls who, I know now weren’t very good people to associate myself with in the first place. Callie was the wild one and the moocher, Kacey was the slut that slept with everyone for everything, and Kate was the alcoholic. Each of these girls would text me asking to hang out but had ulterior motives. “Let’s go to the RAC and pick up,” which meant I was buying and needed cash to pull out. Or  “There’s a party at the peak, lets go,” was code for can you drive? I never declined because I felt important to them.

I knew something was wrong with me, but I never thought the signs out thoroughly. My period usually came late, but I was more moody than usual. My sex drive was so off the charts. I felt like every time I was taking lines and smoking trees my body rejected the substances by making me three times sicker by throwing up and have outrageous migraines and body aches. I was constantly tired, gained weight and felt sluggish. I couldn’t come to the conclusion that I was pregnant and my friends helped me stay in denial, “I think you’re just dehydrated and hung over from the other night. Can you go to the bedroom please,” Mark and Callie would beg me as I curled up next to the toilet bowl, praying to the porcelain gods. I nodded thinking of nothing better than to dive under our thousand count sheets and bury my face into the pillows that I remember smelled of cigarettes, lavender and Mark’s musky-greatness. Thinking of the stench of cigarettes caused a tension of saliva that built up in the back of my throat. I remember gulping the puddle of saliva in my mouth back, attempting to resist the urge to throw up and got up to my feet. My hands remained on my stomach as I proceeded into the bedroom. I can imagine our cluttered hallway, clothes outlining the walkway, and dog toys sporadic in the living room. I forgot that night that we had company and I was too lazy to put on more clothes. So as I passed through the living room in nothing but a tee shirt and my underwear I remember hearing the whispers from soft female voices that, “She’s looking bigger than usual.” I don’t know why I didn’t look over my shoulder or at least say something smart ass to them like, “Who the hell are you to monitor my weight?” or “Mind your own damn business!” To help the situation along a picture of Callie, my other cousins and I were hung up next to the bedroom door. The ten of us was performing a hula dance to Pau Hana’s “Island girls” back in 2004 for my sister’s graduation party. My flat stomach and bronze abs glittered with the flash peeking out between a coconut shell bra and a grass skirt. I guess that was the moment when I actually thought about the weight I’ve been gaining and why I felt so sick and only for short periods of times? I made it a habit to remind myself to go to the store and buy a pregnancy test but Callie, Iz and Brandon encouraged me to spend all my money on thizz (for those who aren’t from the bay, thizz is ecstasy pills) trees and alcohol. I didn’t care until I was broke and couldn’t even afford putting gas in my tank to go to work-study and class. The moment I climbed into the bed a heavy dark entity rests upon my chest putting me to sleep. That night I remember dreaming that I was in a weird random house, laying in bed with an elephant size belly moaning in pain and yelling towards a door frame in what looked like an empty room, at my baby daddy (who ever that was) to “GET IT OUT!” Abruptly, I woke up in a cold sweat I could only imagine Mark walking through the doorframe in which I screamed through, in my dream.  From that moment on, I couldn’t stop stressing about needing to sell my things in order to afford a few pregnancy tests. I knew in the back of my mind that those grocery store tests weren’t the real deal, but I wasn’t ready to face my consequences quite yet. I wanted to live longer with Mark because I knew he’s my baby’s dad. Plus, Mark was too young and not accountable of anyone (not even himself) so I felt like I didn’t want to put this burden on him nonetheless, since he has his whole life still ahead of him. I finally took two different pregnancy tests and they both read negative. To celebrate the “in denial news” I went out with my friends to the Peak party. I remember getting into the biggest fistfights of my life at that party.  This random guy was a good six-foot something and began yelling in my face (obviously because he was too drunk to realize what he was doing) about how stupid it was that young people like Mark were at the party. I took offense because he was my boyfriend and I started yelling back at him to not disrespect the people I come with. He pushed me away, I think for getting up in his face. So I pushed him back and clocked him right in the nose, starting the domino affect of fights. Everyone I came with grabbed someone and began fighting their way towards that six-foot something guy. I don’t remember much after that.

I stopped going to parties from that point on because that stage of denial passed and I knew why my body was rejecting everything I put in it, even food. My cousin Callie helped me set up my health insurance and we made an appointment at the doctor to give me a piece of mind about the entire situation. The drive to Sea-Mar with Sam, Tony and Callie felt like I was driving for hours. I kept praying that all of this was just some mistake. The ironic part is, it was Valentines Day. I only remember that because I had made cupcakes for Callie my Valentine and was wearing a purple floral quarter sleeved dress with my floral acid washed jeans jacket. She held my hand walking in. The receptionist led me into the back room Lab for a urinalysis.

“It will take a few minutes to read but the doctor will be in with you if you can fill out these papers please.” My stomach dropped, by the way she said this as if the paper work was a pre-determined answer that I was pregnant. I squeezed tighter to her hand and held my breath in prayer accepting the fact that I can no longer run away from this and asking god to give me strength and motivation to change my life for the sake of my unborn child.