Sunday, June 23, 2013

One little girl - Part 1: My life is over

It is amazing the impact that one little girl can have on the world. A little over five years ago, one little girl rocked my world and turned it completely upside down. One little girl ruined my old life, and in the ruins, planted a tiny little seed that would grow into a completely new, ultra meaningful, challenging, yet amazing new life.

Meet Lexi, the little girl I speak of:


Tim and I often joke that Lexi wished herself into existence. It's true, she is what some people call a surprise, others call an accident or problem, others an oopsie baby. However you like to put it, Lexi was not planned, at least not by Tim and I. God totally had her planned for a reason though, and I think that, despite my reaction when I first discovered her existence, she was one of His very best ideas.

Her story might take a while to tell, but here goes...

Tim and I were students at KU at the beginning of her story, and we had been dating for about two years. We actually met our junior year of high school, on a field trip to the Truman Library (of all places) and became good friends our senior year. I had a major crush on him, but told know one. I mean just look at this face...and hair. How could you not love hair like this?


And this?


So to make a long story short, we both finished high school dating other people. I became single, but he was dating a friend of mine, so I figured there was no way he would ever be mine. Well, it turns out I was wrong. It didn't work out with her (for either of us, to tell the truth), and Tim and I began dating the summer after our freshman year of college. I lived with my parents and went to JCCC and he lived in an apartment in Lawrence. Every weekend, I would make the drive to visit and we would hang out, visit Pet World to look at the snakes, eat Reese's Puffs and ramen noodles, and act like young people in love. I could hardly wait to rush out of work on Friday nights to begin the 40 minute drive to Lawrence, to my super hot boyfriend and his apartment, a kinda gross place he shared with three other guys. In the fall of 2007, I moved to Lawrence, entered the School of Education, and moved into my own apartment with a friend.

Fast forward to spring 2008. I was taking 20 hours that semester (because I was crazy) and working part time at an elementary school, a job that I LOVED. I was in the midst of midterms when I realized my period was late. I was a little worried, but not too worried, because I was pretty stressed out between midterms and my job. Spring break came and Tim and his family took a trip to Jamaica, while my mom and I went to Florida together. My period still didn't come and I was beginning to get nervous. My mom and I went to Epcot and my stomach was hurting. I chalked it up to the weird French food I had, but I think deep down I already knew. I remember boarding a ride that said "Not recommended for pregnant women" and noticing that sign...and feeling weird about it. I remember having a drink poolside and wondering what kind of a choice that was. In general, I wasn't feeling great on the trip and my mom noticed and asked what was up. I spilled the beans the morning we went to Sea World. Some of you may not have moms that you can talk to about potential crises, but luckily, I did and still do.


I told her the situation, told her I was...late...and she assured me that it was probably just stress and nothing to worry about, but that I should take a test if my period didn't still come in a few days. For peace of mind. After all, I had missed a period once before due to stress. That's probably what was going on.

So, we finished our trip and I returned to Lawrence. A few days later, Tim got back from his trip too. He found out that his grandma was in the hospital and not doing well. It was a stressful time. But I told him about my problem. I wanted to take a test. He too thought it was probably time. I don't remember the details of getting the test, but a test was purchased and all I needed to do was pee on it. I asked him if he thought I was pregnant and his (oh-so encouraging) response was "Probably." Geez.

If you've never done it before, taking a pregnancy test when you really, really don't want to be pregnant is really, really nerve wracking. My legs were shaking and I was totally terrified. He was right there with me, ready to wait. And there in the bathroom of his apartment, a plus sign showed up faster than I ever thought possible. We didn't even have to wait the two minutes. There it was, clear as day. Holy. Shit. I was pregnant.

I was a 21-year-old straight A college student who had just moved out of my parents' house a mere seven months earlier, and I was pregnant. At the time, I felt like my worst nightmare had come true. I cried for days. I would almost fall asleep and then a little voice inside me would remember and whisper, "you're pregnant" and I would wake up crying again. I felt like my life was over. That nothing would ever be the same, nothing would ever, could ever, be good, ever again. I had failed. I was so stupid and I made the biggest mistake and now I was going to pay. I could not believe that something like this could happen to someone like me. I was a goody two shoes all through high school, a real nerd who did craft kits from Walmart, played Karaoke Revolution in my basement, and never drank or did drugs or cut class. I was a member of NHS and I worked at a retirement home (and loved it) and then at an elementary school. I was a nice girl. A good girl. How could this happen? What was I going to do?

In reality, just like I thought, my old life was over. I didn't know it at the time, but a brand new life, more amazing than I could ever imagine, was just about to begin.

What was I going to do? I kept asking myself. Tim and I talked and talked about it. How could we fix this and get things back to normal? How could we ever make things right? What were we going to do? How could we tell our parents? Oh, God, our parents! How on earth could I look my parents, let alone Tim's parents, in the eye and tell them that I was pregnant? The thought of it made me want to run screaming (or puking) in the other direction.

Not long after we found out the news, Tim's grandma Mary passed away. It was a slow and sad ending to a beautiful life lived. Before she died, Tim whispered our secret to her. She was in and out (mostly out) of consciousness during those last few days, so we aren't sure if she actually heard it or not, but I like to think that she did and that she took it with her. Her funeral was really emotional. I remember crying a lot, and I am sure many people thought it was out of grief. I guess in a way it was, but maybe not for her. Maybe grief for the ending of my old life. At one point, her many grandchildren each placed a flower on her casket. I was struck by that moment. Mary and her husband Ron had 7 children. The woman was the matriarch of this big, beautiful family. I remember watching the grandkids return to their seats, hugging their moms and dads, her children, and thinking...this could be me some day. I could be the mother of a family like this. Was this the beginning?

Tim and I finally decided to break the news to my parents. We went to their house and had dinner and were hanging around afterward, hearts pounding and palms sweating. I went downstairs to their finished basement and was sitting at the computer alongside my mom when she casually said, "Oh, I've been meaning to ask you. Did you get your period?" It was just the two of us down there. I looked up at her and she instantly knew. "Oh my God, you are? We have to tell your Dad!" Of course that was the last thing I (and particularly, Tim) wanted to do. But she couldn't keep it from him, so the three of us went upstairs together and called my Dad into the room. I think my mom prefaced it with something like, "The kids have something to tell you..." and I blurted out, "I'm pregnant!" and immediately started crying.

Some people say the devil is in the details, but God was totally in the details of this part of the story. My dad didn't yell, he didn't cry, he didn't punch Tim in the face (hey, it could happen!). Instead, he said, "Hey, this is a good thing! Don't cry, it's going to be okay!" I cannot express in words how much his kind, gentle response that day meant to me. I was so terrified, so ashamed, but he responded with love and kindness and acceptance and that meant, and still means, the world to me. A little bit of hope bloomed in me and part of me started to believe that maybe things would be okay, somehow, someday.

Next, we told Tim's parents (which was probably even scarier than telling my parents) and again, we were met with nothing but love and support. Tim and I were so blessed (not lucky) that as unmarried 21-year-olds with an unplanned pregnancy on our hands, we were surrounded by love and support on all sides. I don't think most people in that sort of situation are able to say that.

With hard part step 1: tell the parents complete, it was time to address our growing problem. What were we going to do? Well, when someone gets pregnant, there are usually three options- have the baby and keep it, have the baby and give it up for adoption, or abort the baby. For a while, a big, terrified part of me wished the baby would just choose option 4: magically disappear on her own, but that was not the case, not God's plan. Tim and I were not comfortable with abortion, so that option was out. We were left to decide whether we should keep the baby or give the baby up for adoption.

You may not know this, but I myself am adopted. So when I first discovered my little problem, I was actually leaning heavily toward adoption. Maybe it was the right choice. How could two college students raise a baby? Was that even fair to the baby? Adoption was the selfless choice. The baby would get a home with a loving family and we could all move on with our lives. It made sense.

But the problem with that choice was that we couldn't. We couldn't just all move on with our lives. Tim and I talked a lot about this. Could we really just have a baby, give it up for adoption, and then go back to being college students like nothing had ever happened? I remember my brother telling me there was no way we could do that, no way I could give up a baby and just move on. Could Tim and I handle that? Would our relationship be able to withstand having a baby, giving it away, and staying together? So what, after that would we just keep living in our apartments? Go out to the movies like a normal young couple? Finish school and get married some day and then have babies...when we were ready? So what would we tell our future kids? Well, you have a sibling out there somewhere. We gave her away because we weren't ready for her. But we love you! We were ready for you!

Yeah, somehow, we knew that wasn't going to work. It would never be that easy. We knew that something as heavy as giving up a baby, our baby, would eat us alive, completely pull us apart. And we knew that we didn't want that. We loved each other. A lot. Even back in the high school days, I knew. I remember driving home from Tim's parents' house one night at 3am thinking, "I think I could marry Tim. I think we would be really good together." We loved each other enough that we weren't willing to give up on our relationship, on one another. So we decided to get married, and keep the baby.

And four months later, that is exactly what we did.






Shortly before the wedding, we found out we were having a girl. One little girl. We were 21, we were married, and we were going to be parents. I never would have, in my wildest dreams, ever thought that I would be the girl who got pregnant out of wedlock, and then got married crazy young. But, I was and I did.

Part 1 of God's big plan, commenced...

1 comment:

  1. Yes, I like Tim's hair too. Who doesn't like curls? He must be a good man to do the right thing and stick by his pregnant girlfriend to support you physically and mentally. Now five years later you have two beautiful girls. Must be good genes.

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