Javana White 1 February 10, 2012: Personal Narrative

A Baby Story
Seven and a half months into pregnancy, my discovery of this life altering occurrence was rather late. I love to re-live that relatively joyous time in my life, although a dark twist made pregnancy bitter-sweet. Visiting your gynecologist to start the birth control process only to find out you came too late would startle even the most promiscuous girls. Not only did I have a baby on board, my new found pregnancy term was approaching its end. That morbid feeling I got right before walking onto a competition matt before a room full of tiger moms and stale-faced judges filled the pit of my stomach as the words, Your test came back positive, slipped off the lips of Dr. Slachovich. Glancing over at my grandmas expression calmed my nerves for a second, until I realized the doctor was asking me, a seventeen year old high school senior, Do you want to know your options, and so on. Abortion, adoption, motherhood; those were the options that destined my next step in life. It was too soon to answer. The following hour, riding past trees that filled the expressway as my grandma drove home, I struggled to slow down my racing thoughts. Ultimately, I choose motherhood. Giving up one of the most important parts of my life broke my heart tremendously. Senior year would not be the same without cheerleading. My teammates began to rub my belly, asking all sorts of questions. Life became different at school. I birthed a new image of the extremely cute pregnant senior girl/cheerleader, an image that I wore proudly. My identity had always been framed around intelligence, style, and athletic abilities. When I walked the halls with my baby bump, everyone complemented me and somehow thought my new belly just fit

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into my life, excusing the fact that I was suddenly eight months pregnant. I held my head high and embraced my pregnancy, yet I couldnt believe my peers reacted so well. My boyfriend did not have time to prepare for the bomb I dropped on him. He hadnt a clue of the baby inside of his girlfriends tummy. After all, I did not look different psychically appear to change my attitude as the stereotypical pregnant girl does. My partner served as the second most important character in the baby story that was forming, so telling him was not easy. Calling my eighteen year old college freshman boyfriend with baby news troubled me during this time of uncertainty. Afraid to say what was happening, I slowly let the words slip out during our nightly conversation. Most of the questions he had went unanswered because I did not know. Seven and a half months into a pregnancy is not exactly a great time to tell the father, or for the mother to find out. His nervousness hid behind the affirmation he gave me that he would be there through whatever I decided; abortion, adoption, or motherhood. Encouraging world sealed his panic and confusion at that moment. I wished to see his initial reaction, only if he werent five hundred miles away. My childs father was far, but he seemed even further on the day I went to the doctor to get on birth control only to find out it was too late. The minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months made time move slower than it ever moved before. I wanted my childs father; he was far away. Beyond the feelings of anticipation to hear my mothers reaction, I dreaded hearing my fathers. On the day of my boyfriends senior prom, my father and I developed a broken relationship. My father wanted me to spend the night with him following the departure from prom, and I did not. Exactly seven months had gone past of silence between us, until he heard the baby news. My mother told him of course. The tightening of his chest and numbness in his arm stirred up a mild hatred for my boyfriend. I told him on a Tuesday. Wednesday he awaited

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my arrival from school, and on this day we saw one another for the first time in seven months. Tears filled his eyes, the most sincere words left his lips, all of the love for me stored inside of him overflowed and spilled out as he embraced me on that day. Pregnancy brings the most distant families together; my pregnancy brought my father back into my life. A dark twist took my mother away. Relying on the woman who conceived you while preparing to birth another person is typical of a woman, assuming she will coach and guide you. I needed my mother. She had to leave. Telling her about my growing baby inclined her to rush her even more shocking news that she planned to spring upon me at a later date. My beloved mother, the woman I would get all of my answers from, told me that her imprisonment was vastly approaching in the preceding month. I revealed my pregnancy in October. Her departure was set for November. Four walls, a gang of guards, an angry prisoner here, a lonely talkative prisoner there, a meal fit for a low class citizen, a gate between freedom and lockup; this is prison. Nights did not end. Sleeplessness began. Nevertheless, I stayed up during nights where sleep meant dreaming of my mother. I dreamt good dreams, nightmares, and bad dreams about her. A prison houses criminals. My mother did not fit the description. Prison is for thieves, drug dealers, cut-throats, and murderers. My mother did not fit the description. Long hours of gazing at the wall, the wall in my room which could turn into the wall in my kitchen because I had freedom to go where I pleased, transformed into a prison if I gazed long enough. I saw my mothers face lying on a minuscule bed during a cold winters night. If I closed my eyes I could hug her, I could feel the last hug I gave her if I held myself ever so tightly, I could tell her I loved her. When I opened my eyes she was not there. Prison is for bad people. My mother did not fit the description. What I

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felt when I thought of prison can be easily explained. What I felt when I thought of my mother as a prisoner can never be adequately explained. Prison is for those who do not deserve to be free. Silver linings are for movies. I saw no reason for believing everything would be alright even though my mommy would miss my senior year, my eighteenth birthday, and the birth of her grandchild. Taking my trembling hands (as they do when one cries and attempts to pick something up), placing them on my stomach ever so gently, feeling my baby move from side to side relieved me of sadness. I knew the real reason why my pastor says, When praises go up, blessings come down. I went to church, I prayed for peace of mind, and I praised the Lord for everything that I did have. My baby, the blessing that came down, released my heart from its shackles. My weekly doctor visits sparked my new found excitement, bandaging my wounds. The days got brighter as I listened to my mystery baby rumbling around following the midwife rubbing aquasonic gel and the sonicade (a device used to listen to the babys heartbeat) on my growing belly. Mysteries are great until anxiousness takes over. I wanted a boy so the hours in the waiting room on the appointment day that I found out my babys sex could not go by fast enough. The moment up until the ultrasound, my anticipation was very high. The nurse told me to drink a gallon of water to fill my bladder. Thirty minutes later I laid on the table waiting for her to either see a distinctive male or female body part already. Yep, its a boy, were the words that sang to my ears and filled my heart with even more joy after that doctors visit. Moments where my baby boy and I bonded distracted me from every tribulation in my life. I walked around for him, I fed him fine cuisine, I talked to him, and I loved him. My mother had left, his mother would stay. I vowed to assure my presence in his life with all of my might and devote my

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love to him through whatever life threw at us. My mother cold not return for one year and five months, his mother would meet him in two months. Waiting for the water to burst, signaling the end of pregnancy, troubles every expecting mother, especially after her first waddle across a room. I wanted to deliver already; I was at the end of nine months and it was time. My expected delivery date had passed by. My third trimester of pregnancy ended, but still no baby. My stomach appeared to be getting lower, yet my baby would not come down. I finally went to the doctor, and I got induced for labor Monday January 12, 2009. The i.v. placed in my arm flowed through my bloodstream. This should have made the baby come in approximately twelve hours. Tuesday night would be the night my baby arrived. An incompetent nurse rushed this process. One contraction, two contractions, then thirty minutes later, I faced contractions with ten minute intervals. Glancing at my patient screen and observing my nurse frantically switching the screen to my name gave me the impression that she had made a big mistake. She then ran my i.v. extremely faster. My contractions split my cervix faster that I could say ouch, though tears did not fall. I clenched my sweet grandmas hand as she prayed for me as if no one was watching. She prayed for her granddaughter as she always did and she was beside me as she always was. I remained strong, as I have a high tolerance for pain, and I refused to ask for pain medicine from the shameful nurse in the event that she messed that up also. I always thought, Epidurals are for punks, women have been having natural births since the beginning of time. Dr. Merritt entered the room; his hand felt around my cervix, his discovery revealed my seven meter dilation. He sprinted across the hall to put his boots on. We went through a few practice rounds of proper pushing techniques. Ten minutes later, he told me not to be nervous. My feet were in place, with my grandma on one side and my absent boyfriends

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mother on the other, he instructed me to push from my stomach. It was not Tuesday night, I was not mentally prepared to deliver so early, but I knew I had to. I pushed, and I pushed, and I panted heavily, then I pushed, and I pushed until my baby was in my arms. The absolutely, positively most beautiful baby I had ever seen in all of my days. I had a natural birth, just me, my baby, and good old pushing. My baby boy was here. We locked eyes for the first time as I fed my angel. My journey through motherhood was over. The dark twist would eventually end, but at this moment, my new life as a mother began. Now, I am a mother.