by ProudScHeritage

Created on: January 25, 2007   Last Updated: April 27, 2009

Eight years later, talking about that day so many years ago still haunts me. Neither I nor my family ever brings that issue up, it's almost taboo. I was sixteen and a half when I found out I was pregnant. I was having rough morning sickness and I tested five times to finally believe what I was seeing.

Because my mom and I had always been best friends, she knew what was happening. Oh, she knew the truth I couldn't hide it, but she wouldn't look at me and barely spoke to me. My heart was shattered, mom had talked to me since I was nine- old enough to know about sex and pregnancy. She and I would talk for hours about who I wanted to be when I grew up, the places I wanted to go and see, different cultures I wanted to learn and all the very same desires she shared with me that she had to give up because at sixteen she too became pregnant- with me.

I had hurt my best friend, my mom insurmountably. Late at night, I would walk in on her crying and she would just walk away and dry her own tears. Seeing her like that killed me.

After I went to the health department for prenatal vitamins and my first initial ob visit I was home lying on my bed looking over all those informational pamplets about pregnancy, childbirth and parenthood. A friend from school came by to say hi and she walked in on me. I didn't have a prayer after that. I knew what was coming.

We lived in a town of 500 people, everyone knows everyone and their kids. Nothing stays a secret long. She promptly went home and told her parents who told my uncle who worked with her dad. My uncle called my mom and then my dad to ensure my "secret" was let out of the bag. The scariest part of all was coming- the moment I had to deal with my dad.

He has always been the enforcer. Growing up, his dad beat him with a horses whip every day before he left for work just in case he and his four brothers got into trouble. Although dad wasn't that harsh with my siblings and I, it was bad enough. I was scared to death and he was demanding mom hand the phone to me. He demanded that I be waiting in the living room when he arrived home, with the father of my baby. two and a half hours later there I was sitting in the living room hounded about questions of where we had sex ( was it in the back of a truck like some slut?) (that boy isn't nothing but trash, what's wrong with you?) ( Are you stupid?) ( Are you sure you are three months? I should escort you to the doctor myself and make sure you aren't, that way I can make sure you have an abortion.)

He

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