October 4, 2011 Leave a comment
I quickly took the pregnancy test out of the bag and fumbled with the instructions: Pee on the stick, wait three minutes, discover if your whole world is about to change. I didn’t even have time to put the test down on the counter before “PREGNANT” appeared on the little digital screen. Oh, sh**.
That was five years ago. I had just turned 20, was smack in the middle of my junior year of college, and was looking forward to a summer internship in New York, the first step on my road to world domination. This was not the time for a baby.
Instead of feeling elated about the news, I was burdened by how I thought others would react and my own personal shortcomings. I wore extra large shirts on campus for the rest of the semester and didn’t speak a word of the pregnancy to anyone except those who absolutely needed to know. During that period of my life, I probably averaged at least three full-blown crying fits a week. On the bus. In my dorm room. In the car on the way to the doctor’s office. Read more of this post