I was standing in the disabled women’s toilet. All of a sudden there was a chill, my face turned pale white and goosebumps ran up my forearms. Another colleague tried to turn the doorknob to get in, my heart started racing and my face felt hot, “Sorry I’m in here!”
My mind felt like someone had turned on a blender, the leftover Sunday roast swirling around my brain. I looked in the mirror and could barely recognise myself, nothing physically had changed but the stick covered in pee and a harsh, deep blue line was looking up at me, smiling knowingly.
Tears started pouring down my face, I was uncontrollably crying, convulsing almost to the point where I didn’t know how to stop. Luckily I was at work, so I had to pull it together. I had to make my face look normal, wait for the red and pink to settle. Go back to my desk and put a smile on. C’mon just suck it up!
I could only manage to suck it up for five minutes, until I sat down at my desk and started crying all over again. I lied to my manager and said that my dad was sick in the hospital, she told me to go home and let her know tomorrow if I need another day.
It’s funny how time can slow down and speed up. The elevator down to the lobby felt like the longest moment of my life as if I was riding down into my grave. The doors opened and I walked through, feeling shameful.
What have I done? How could I be so irresponsible with my life, and my boyfriend’s life? Oh shit. My boyfriend.
I completely forgot that he even existed. I push through the round-a-bout doors and walk into a private corner outside. The phone rings three times,
“Hey Meg, what’s up? I’m really busy at work, is everything alright?” I never call him when I’m at work.
“Um, yea…….[stomach churning, long pause] …..I’m not okay.”
“Oh no…[not really concerned, still typing on his computer] what happened?” Probably thinking it’s some kind of work drama between my colleagues and I.
“Um, sooooo….um, oh my god I can’t even say it [tears streaming, throat closing up]…………..fuck.”
“Meg [typing stops, concerned voice] what the fuck is going on, you’re scaring me now?” he replies. [very long pause, I’m crying in the background] “Are you pregnant?”
“What?!? How do you know?”
“Oh shit. I just guessed I wasn’t sure,” he replies. “What are you going to do?” Not really sure if he meant what am I going to do with my life or in that moment.
“I’m going to pick up a few more…[throat still closed up, gulping and crying] ..tests just to be sure, [another pause] so I’ll be home in twenty or thirty minutes. [major cry and breath in] Sorry I can’t even speak, I have to go.”
Forty minutes later I arrive. I give my boyfriend the biggest hug I have ever given him, and hold on for dear life as if this is the last time I will ever see him.
“Meg, what are you going to do?”
This question loomed over me for two or three days. Have the baby, don’t have the baby, have the baby, don’t have the baby, have the fucking baby! I’m not responsible enough to make this decision. Who am I to decide?
The next week I was invited to a super fancy media party, with hip-hop artist, Nas, performing! WOAH, so cool dude. Still acting like I’m super fun and love to party (which, to be fair, I still do).
I rock up in all black, a leather jacket and converse sneakers. Can they tell I’m faking it? Do I still fit in? Is this all worth it?
What is more important to me and do I have to give this all up?
I shine my white pearlies at the bouncer and go straight to the bar, to order sparkling water with lime. Nobody will notice if I get my drink before anyone sees me. A big secret that nobody can know. Staring at the sea of people, I spot my friends in the corner, dancing, ordering jagerbombs (already, even at 7pm), flirting, making jokes. I hold back. Who the fuck are these people?
Not even into a week of pregnancy and I was already massively reevaluating who I was and what I was doing with my life. Why was this scene so important to me? The previous day before I was telling the doctor I wanted an abortion.
My friend ran over to me and lifted me up, “I already ordered you a drink, come on!” Laughing and pretending I was slightly drunk, “No it’s okay I just had one.” [smile, smile, laugh]
I felt like a big fat liar, it was hurting me. I didn’t even know who I was anymore.
I can’t be a mom, I’m not motherly. I didn’t want this for another five years at least. What is this going to do to my career? I want to be at the top of my game before I have a baby. How will I even afford this? I’m not married! What the fuck is marriage anyway? Do I even agree with this concept? What is life supposed to be about? Am I in the right job?
This little tiny, tiny itsy bitsy person inside me sparked a whole lot of questions, flying through my mind whilst nodding my head to ‘”life’s a bitch and then you die.”
And then…. more crying. More tears, more thoughts, more unknowns. It was so un-me. What is wrong with me? Am I sad of about the thought of having a baby or sad because I don’t want the baby?
I went home looking like a wet dog, smelling like a dirty club.
Almost 12am, my boyfriend looking sound asleep. I try to hold everything in, tip toeing around the room, undressing and getting into a t-shirt that felt like home and finally sliding into bed. He snuggles up to me without hesitation, I burst into tears one last time and fall asleep in a haze.
And then there I am. Telling the doctor that actually I don’t want an abortion, as if the last two weeks had evaporated into thin air.
And here I am now, two years later, with a beautiful, all-encompassing little boy who changed my life forever, and has made me happier than I could have ever imagined.