The results were positive.

“Oh, thank God!” I replied to the nurse on the phone, but she seemed confused.

“Ummmm…You do realize that means you’re pregnant, right?” she was somehow able to politely respond.

“Oh. I thought you meant positive, like, the results were good.”

Thus, my introduction to just how wrong a bunch of doctors can be when it comes to the female reproductive system.  Not only was I able to conceive, I was able to do so while using two forms of birth control. I would be impressed if it had happened to anyone else but me.

At the time I had never even considered my stance on abortion. I knew what the procedure entailed, but that was about as far as my contemplation on the subject reached, until the man who donated the swimmers to this baby cocktail handed me a wad of cash and told me to, “Take care of it.”  Suddenly, much to my surprise, I discovered I was very much pro-life.  In fact, thanks to the surge of hormones, I was militantly so.  I took that dirty pile of bills and immediately used it to purchase maternity clothes.

My father was incredibly supportive, but for some reason I will most likely never fully understand, I wanted my mother during my pregnancy.  I called her up, told her the news, and hopped on a plane back to the east coast.  I’m not sure what I expected from this decision, so, I suppose I wasn’t disappointed with the result.

My mother and step-father, while very helpful and caring, were still staunchly steeped in their religion and the rules were crystal clear: disfellowshipped people are to be shunned.  Given the situation, I was allowed to live in their home.  They could provide for me, but I would have to commit “acts that befit repentance,” in order to stay.

Becoming a mother did instill in me a desire to pass on a faith to my child.  The only belief system I had ever known was the dogma of Jehovah’s Witnesses, thus, jumping through their hoops seemed like the best way to share a spiritual life with my offspring.  I kept myself “separate from the world” while working in a public setting.  I formed no friendships with anyone outside of “the organization.”  At the same time, no one “in the truth” was allowed to speak to me either, so I was completely alone, save for my parents, during one of the most difficult times of my life.  But, hey  I had brought this on myself, so the punishment fit the crime, right?  Penance was very much due given the horrible sinner that I was.

Throughout my pregnancy, I attended every meeting that was held, remaining silent and waiting either in a back room or the car.  I even attended a convention, having to tell strangers who asked about my growing belly that I was disfellowshipped, so they wouldn’t soil themselves by being seen talking to me.  Somehow, I actually believed they were being loving by helping me recognize the importance of a community of faith. I was due at the beginning of February, and the days could not have ticked by more slowly had I been in a solitary prison cell.

As many are aware, Jehovah’s Witnesses do not celebrate Christmas.  They do, however, fully appreciate the beauty of After-Christmas-Sales.  This seemed the perfect time to purchase my necessary baby equipment, so my mother and I planned a rare outing, and I was anxiously anticipating a day of normalcy out among the public. When the day of fun actually arrived, however, I couldn’t get my shoes on to leave.  My mom took one look at my bluish-gray, spherical feet and decided we would first stop by the emergency room.  Shopping was denied, and a quick lesson in pre-eclampsia ensued.  Instead of an enjoyable day spent picking out adorable baby items, I was immediately whisked away to an even more isolated hospital room where I would wait out the remainder of my pregnancy.

Until the next morning, when my world went completely black,  I awoke plugged in to multiple machines and IV’s, and in the throws of the worst pain I’d ever experienced.

(to be continued)