I was just your average teenager. Then I got pregnant.
"Yes, you are! You're about six weeks along. Congratulations!" chirped the nurse. "Surprised?"
"Uh ... yeah," I stuttered.
"Well, it's a good surprise! Right?"
"Uh ... yeah," I answered through tears. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."
As I hung up the phone, the tears came pouring out in tidal force. I was terrified. A million questions were running through my head. What was I going to do? What would my parents say? How could this happen to me? All the while Angie rocked me back and forth, tears streaming down her face as well. We were both at a loss for words.
I eventually broke the silence. "I need to go home. I need to go home now," I said, quickly rising and gathering my things. "I-I-I ... Oh my God. I need to go."
When I finally got buckled into my car, I began to sob hysterically. I rubbed my stomach, frightened yet in awe of the fact that a life was growing inside of it. As I drove, I dialed my boyfriend's number. I needed to talk to him. I needed to hear his voice.
His phone rang and rang before the answering machine clicked on. I dialed the number again, hoping and praying that I wouldn't have to hear that dumb automated lady telling me my "call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system." No answer.
"Wake up," I thought. "Please." Again, I got his answering machine, so I left a message.
"Spencer, it's me. You need to call me back as soon as you get this. I need to talk to you now. It's important. Please, Spencer, I need to talk to you," I cried.
I love Spencer with all of my heart. Beyond being my boyfriend, he's my best friend. I've never met anyone else who can compare to him. When I'm with him, I can just be me. Call me young and naive, but I know what love is.
I wanted to talk to him so badly, yet I was scared. I didn't know how he would react and I know that, as with any teenage boy, he can be rather immature at times. I knew he wouldn't be ready to hear it. Heck, I wasn't ready to hear it, either.
I finally got home; the tears were still streaming down my face. I stumbled inside, and my mom met me in just a few strides. She instantly knew. I started sobbing even harder as she hugged me close. We crouched down to sit on the stairs, and I clung on to her for dear life.
"Mom, I'm pregnant," I stammered. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I'm scared. I don't know what to do. I love you. I'm sorry."
"Jennifer, it'll be okay," she responded. "I love you so much. It'll be okay. We'll get through this."
The conversation was a blur, but more important than the dialogue is the silent bond that exists between a mother and her child. She hugged me. She kissed me. She reassured me. She did a whole lot of things, but she never cried--or at least not in front of me. We sat tangled for a little while until my phone began to ring. It was Spencer.
"Spencer, I need to tell you something," I started, slowly breaking away from my mother's embrace.
"Yeah?" he nervously asked.
"I'm pregnant." I broke down and started crying yet again.
"Oh. Really? You are? Uh ... " Spencer stumbled. He was speechless.
Being Black: It's not the skin color