My Pregnancy Story..

I got pregnant at a young age, which was wrong, but this was my story.

It started when I was fourteen. My boyfriend was an awesome guy! My grade, average height, weight and size with beautiful blonde hair. We thought we would spend forever together. He was so very special to me. Everything about him made me completely melt on the inside. Together, we began thinking. If I loved him and he loved me, why not take the next step, right? However this thinking was clouded by teenage hormones and false hope. We began having sexual relations. Everything seemed perfect. I was comfortable with him and he was with me, but I wasn't ready for what would lie ahead.

     I thought things were going fine. Soon though, he ended our relationship. I still do not know exactly why nor do I ever think I will know. But that is unimportant. What is important is the downward spiral I was on. I have been suicidal for years and he knew this. He played with those emotions of mine and pushed and pushed me. I have had issues with eating disorders, self mutilation and suicide attempts. He knew this. Upon breaking up, I already had the thought in my head that I may be pregnant. My period was a few days late. Completely normal for a teenage girl, I know, but something didn't seem right. I refused to eat for over a week and began to scar my body even more. Everything drug me into a deeper depression.

     My friend was kind enough to get me a pregnancy test and let me take it at her house. It was the scariest moment of my life. By this time I had already informed Wyatt that I may be pregnant. He told me that he didn't care, it wasn't his responsibility. This hurt me in a way most people will never have to understand. I was completely on my own. So I got the test...the first test wouldn't show anything. Positive nor negative. I immediately went and smoked pot and did drugs...hoping to get rid of the possible child. This now seems like the worst thing I could have done, but I saw no other choice.  The possible result scared me. How could I, at age fourteen, care for a child of my own? This reality seemed utterly impossible to wrap my head around. I knew that eventually I would have to face taking the other test. I held off on taking the test for as long as I could.

     My opportunity arose when my parents and siblings were out of the house for a few hours. I took the test...It came back positive. As soon as I saw this, I got ahold of someone to get drugs from. I told my best friend, Sidney and she was there for me. I told Wyatt in person and he didn't seem to care at all. I was so upset and hurt that I threatened to tell his mother. This was my all time low. I still refused to eat and I did as many drugs as possible. And I soon got my period.

     Only months have passed. Wyatt continued to push me until I ended up in the hospital for suicide. The hospital helped me and I haven't been cutting and I have been eating fairly well. I am still underweight but I am eating right for the most part. I will never eat as much as I'm supposed to, but at least I'm getting some food in my system. Cutting has almost completely gone away and I have been clean for weeks. But I will never feel right. I will never know what that child could have been, who they would have been, what they could have done with their life. The fear of them ending up like me was too great to bear though, so maybe this way was best. I never could have given them the life that every child truly deserves. But my reality is having to wake up every morning and wonder what could have been. Never knowing where that child is and how my life could be with them here. I wish he would have accepted my pregnancy for maybe I could have kept the child. Though I do not hate him for I know that he was not ready. That is the simple truth and my reality.

I thought things were going fine. Soon though, he ended our relationship. I still do not know exactly why nor do I ever think I will know. But that is unimportant. What is important is the downward spiral I was on. I have been suicidal for years and he knew this. He played with those emotions of mine and pushed and pushed me. I have had issues with eating disorders, self mutilation and suicide attempts. He knew this. Upon breaking up, I already had the thought in my head that I may be pregnant. My period was a few days late. Completely normal for a teenage girl, I know, but something didn't seem right. I refused to eat for over a week and began to scar my body even more. Everything drug me into a deeper depression.

     My friend was kind enough to get me a pregnancy test and let me take it at her house. It was the scariest moment of my life. By this time I had already informed Wyatt that I may be pregnant. He told me that he didn't care, it wasn't his responsibility. This hurt me in a way most people will never have to understand. I was completely on my own. So I got the test...the first test wouldn't show anything. Positive nor negative. I immediately went and smoked pot and did drugs...hoping to get rid of the possible child. This now seems like the worst thing I could have done, but I saw no other choice.  The possible result scared me. How could I, at age fourteen, care for a child of my own? This reality seemed utterly impossible to wrap my head around. I knew that eventually I would have to face taking the other test. I held off on taking the test for as long as I could.

     My opportunity arose when my parents and siblings were out of the house for a few hours. I took the test...It came back positive. As soon as I saw this, I got ahold of someone to get drugs from. I told my best friend, Sidney and she was there for me. I told Wyatt in person and he didn't seem to care at all. I was so upset and hurt that I threatened to tell his mother. This was my all time low. I still refused to eat and I did as many drugs as possible. And I soon got my period.

     Only months have passed. Wyatt continued to push me until I ended up in the hospital for suicide. The hospital helped me and I haven't been cutting and I have been eating fairly well. I am still underweight but I am eating right for the most part. I will never eat as much as I'm supposed to, but at least I'm getting some food in my system. Cutting had almost completely gone away and I had been clean for weeks. I am cutting more and more now but hoping to get better. However, I know that I will never feel right. I will never know what that child could have been, who they would have been, what they could have done with their life. The fear of them ending up like me was too great to bear though, so maybe this way was best. I never could have given them the life that every child truly deserves. But my reality is having to wake up every morning and wonder what could have been. Never knowing where that child is and how my life could be with them here. I wish he would have accepted my pregnancy for maybe I could have kept the child. Though I do not hate him for I know that he was not ready. That is the simple truth and my reality.