Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story (4 page)

I wanted to be an independent adult so desperately. I wanted to get married and have babies and live in that adorable house with no parent to answer to. I just wanted to grow up. I wanted to make my own choices, and have those choices respected. This new idea quickly became an obsession that would change the course of my entire life. I started spending my days coming up with ideas to expedite my goal of becoming pregnant. I first searched online.

At the age of 15 I learned about fertility and the science behind it. I researched different tips and methods for “TTC,” or trying to conceive. I was very secretive and subtle about this mission. I printed out a chart to track my periods so I would know when I was ovulating, and hid the chart under my bed. I started taking my basal body temperature and drinking cough syrup with expectorant that was rumored to help. I had a plan in case I was caught or questioned about anything: the thermometer and cough syrup were under my bed because I felt like I was “getting sick.” No one can argue with that, I thought to myself.

I started eating a ton of broccoli. The folic acid in broccoli was supposed to help prevent serious birth defects. I drank extra water and tried to avoid drinking alcohol. I was preparing my body for what I knew it could handle. I was treating this as an adult. This preparation only motivated me to go to any length to make this baby a reality.

I became obsessed with finding more stories about getting pregnant. I found reality shows on television that documented couples having a baby for the first time. My small 14” television set had a timer, and I set it to power on every morning at 9:00. I had to have all of the information I could possibly get. I researched the subject with true diligence. These couples on the reality shows were much older than I, but that was never considered.

I watched a movie on one of those Women’s Network channels about a fifteen-year-old girl who accidently became pregnant. I watched the movie intensely; nothing in the world could have disrupted my attention. See, I tried to rationalize that it’s not all that bad. It happens all the time! There’s a movie about it! It’s not like I’m only thirteen or something. I had concluded that fifteen was the earliest acceptable age to have a baby. This movie did not scare or intimidate me; it gave me even more ideas and desires to become pregnant. It was a glamorous thing from what I could tell. I was already mature and grown up enough to make my own decisions. I was sure of it.

After watching show after show and browsing the web for hours on end looking for ways to become pregnant, I went to the storage shed in my mother’s backyard where Lilah had left Summer’s baby items from when they both lived at home. Lilah had become pregnant when she was a senior in high school. I was only eleven at the time and I was so stunned I could hardly reply to my mother when she announced it.

The only words I could mutter in response were “Lilah had sex?” I was just about insulted. I look back now and realize that I was probably mostly let down. My big sister was supposed to stay perfect forever. She was very popular and had the funniest sense of humor. She also had a true innocence about her, and I was confused how a person could hide such a big thing. Sex, to an 11 year old, is a completely foreign topic that does not have any immediate reality to it. I thought that I would, for sure, wait until I was at least 30, or possibly never even take part in such a thing at all. I honestly didn’t even really understand how it worked.

I wanted to see what I could find in the shed to prepare for my baby. I hauled an entire crib and a mattress up the stairs into my messy closet. For days I looked through and sorted bags and bags of baby clothes. My mom and sisters hardly noticed what I was doing. If they did notice and ask, I would explain that I was just doing some cleaning because the shed was a mess. I did tell them the crib mattress was in my room so that Josh didn’t have to sleep on the hard floor for the nights that he was too tired or drunk to go home. Josh occasionally spent the night at our home once my family grew to love him. The rule was that my bedroom door remained open and he slept away from my bed on the floor. We were more excited about the fact that we were trusted enough to do this rather than actually spending the night together. On weekends Josh was usually either too drunk to walk home or arguing with his alcoholic mother. We were patient enough to reserve most of our inappropriate contact to times when we knew we would not be caught.

Josh pedaled up on his bike when I was outside folding baby gowns and sorting through items that I didn’t want and would donate. I neatly folded up the baby outfits that I found to be acceptable, put them in my purple duffel bag, and hid it in my closet. Josh looked at the tiny pink dresses and socks. “We should have a baby, that would be so cool!” he said, half kidding. That gave me butterflies and encouraged my quest to become pregnant.

By the end of summer vacation, Josh was out of high school and working at an oil-change auto service station. I had not told him my plans. There were times that he mentioned how awesome it would be to have a baby, but nothing direct. I took his indirect comments as approval. Josh was never concerned with using condoms or birth control.

I began to plan our future together as parents. I would occasionally look at the local classifieds to see the rental rates for apartments. I constructed a budget for us but neglected to take into consideration utility bills, auto insurance or medical insurance…pretty much everything important. I took pregnancy tests from the local department store every month for four months. They always came back negative.
But I am doing everything right!
I would say to myself.

Giving up on getting pregnant after several negative pregnancy tests, I decided that I would not take another one until my period was at least three days late. I was sick of being disappointed when the tests came back negative.

School was tiring, and I was getting sick of waiting to be free to move out of my house. I became desperate for a break.  I wanted to spend even more time learning about becoming pregnant, and my forced education was getting in the way of that. I decided that I could probably get at least a break for a week from school if I could find a way to get suspended. To make that happen, I waited for the perfect moment to start a fight. I picked a fight with a girl in my grade. She had it coming though. The night before, she was sending messages to me online. “
Your head is way too big for your body. Pick up a fork, stab it with food, and put it in your mouth. Everyone knows your anorexic
.” She taunted me until I just had to get off of the computer. I didn’t even know she hated me in the first place. And yes I was skinny, but I sure as hell ate my food! This girl was now my perfect target and at the perfect time. She called me a bitch in the hallway after the lunch bell rang. I dropped my books and attacked her. From stories I heard after the fact, I pushed her about 15 feet down the hallway. I was mad and ready to be suspended. The fight lasted only a few minutes, but there weren’t any school employees who witnessed it. I was bummed. I ended up getting Saturday school once word of the fight spread to the teachers. My plan had backfired and I was pissed. The girl I beat up came to school the next day with a considerably bruised face. I couldn’t get myself suspended on purpose, even if I tried. Now don’t get me wrong. I’m by no means bragging about this fight. It was stupid. It was a desperate attempt to find my education by other means, even if only for a week.

To change things up and relieve boredom, Josh and I invited a crowd of friends over to Lilah’s house on the following weekend when we were babysitting, and we had them bring some beer. Summer was put to bed and the party started. Josh and I were drunk and acting foolish along with everyone else. As I was running up the hallway staircase to relieve my full-of-beer bladder, I suddenly gasped from the terrible pain of menstrual cramps.
Ugh. I am definitely not pregnant! Again.

Josh went to work early the next morning. I was nauseous and hung over, but I managed to make it to my last class at school after my older sister gave me a guilt-trip and convinced me to go. Fifteen minutes in, I decided that I was too sick to focus. I walked home and crawled into my fluffy, comfortable bed.

Lying there I thought about when my last period had been. I pulled the chart from underneath my bed. In shock, I realized that I was already four days late! I jumped out of bed and hurried into the bathroom.

I pulled out a pregnancy test that I had been reserving. It was blue and white, and holding it gave me an adrenaline rush. I read the directions for the tenth time and tried to avoid peeing on my hand. When I sealed off the test, I turned my head away hoping that when I locked the cap in place it wouldn’t spray me in the face. I took the test back into my bedroom. Sitting on the floor in front of the mirror, I put my make-up on and fixed my hair into a ballerina-style bun. I always tried to look my best for when Josh got off of work. I waited about ten minutes before I nervously looked back at the test.

What if it’s actually positive? No, don’t get your hopes up. But what if it’s positive? This could be a big deal – so much more than I thought. Oh no. I don’t know if I’m ready for this.
Nervous thoughts ran through my head as my adrenaline picked up more and more. Finally, I knew that no amount of nervous self-chatter would change the result - whatever it may be. Reaching for the test with my right hand, I avoided looking at the result until I had a firm grasp on it and it was in crystal-clear sight. Holding my breath, a second blue line stared back at me, telling me I was pregnant. This blue line signified more than I was able to comprehend. It was going to be a long, uncertain road ahead.

Shaking and gasping on the floor of my bedroom, I was afraid and confused. I had so many fantasies about life as an adult and doing whatever I wanted any time of the day. But they were just that - fantasies. This was real. There was officially a life growing inside of me. There was no turning back. The reality of the situation suddenly brought upon me a dark cloud of guilt and fear. I began to wonder how my family was going to react. I had a feeling that I wasn’t going to be as in control of my life as I wanted. Staring at myself in the mirror, I quickly understood that this was permanent and I could not go back. This was the moment that changed the direction of my heart, mind, soul, and spirit. I was now following a new path that was going to be far more advanced than I ever could have known.

Once I calmed down from the shock of the positive pregnancy test, I casually asked my mother to drop me off at Josh’s work so I could walk home with him when he got off. She said that would be fine. She was extra nice to me on the ride there. Watching the road and not knowing that her fifteen-year-old daughter was holding in her pocket a test confirming the existence of her second grandchild, my mother chatted about mundane, everyday things. I started to feel sad and guilty. I knew that she was going to be hurt and let down when I told her. There was nothing worse than seeing my mom upset. I hated to see her cry. It rarely happened, but when it did, it broke my heart. I would soon have to face telling my mother that I was going to be a mother.

Josh was busy working when we pulled up. Covered in black shiny oil as usual, he looked over and smiled when he saw me. He asked his boss for a five-minute break to walk over to the gas station with me for some cigarettes. My face must have been saying that I was upset, and he asked me what was wrong. I cautiously pulled out the positive pregnancy test and held it up for him to see. His expression wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t upset either. He shrugged as if he almost expected it. It didn’t seem like he was too afraid or worried either; I think he may have been in shock. I waited at the picnic bench that the guys at the shop used for lunch breaks until it was time for Josh to clock out.

Derrick, one of his co-workers, was making me wish I had waited to tell Josh the news. Derrick was in his mid-twenties and always hitting on me. I could never tell if he was joking or serious, and it made me uneasy. I had a brief flashback to a few months earlier when Josh convinced my mother to let me go fishing with him and Derrick and Derrick’s brother, Donnie. My mom asked Josh for all of the details and the exact location. Since Josh did not have a car, Donnie picked us up on the sunny Friday afternoon. Derrick would follow later in his own car. Donnie had a small one-seat pickup truck that we all had to squeeze into. It was a bit awkward sitting between Josh and an older man whom I barely knew. Donnie had long hair down to his jaw and looked like a mix between a hippie and a hobo. He seemed like the stoner type but was always nice and personable. The thing about Derrick and Donnie, was that they both knew how to make astounding first impressions. They were very engaged in conversations and always made sure to add in some sort of humor. Donnie was about 10 years older than Derrick although Derrick looked older than Donnie. They were an interesting pair.

After making it to the fishing spot and getting the gear out of the truck and set up, Josh and Donnie opened the cooler right away and started drinking beer. Derrick arrived shortly after and was diligently focused on his fishing instead. He brought his obnoxious friend, Jimmy, along. Jimmy had already been drinking when they arrived. I wanted a beer too but didn’t want to ask Donnie because I didn’t know him well enough. Josh saw the longing look of thirst on my face and handed me a beer, knowing Donnie wouldn’t mind. I was still fourteen at this point. I was excited that these older men were so accepting of my age and didn’t mind me drinking with them. It made me feel like I was a part of the “grown-up” club.

While the four men were drunk and I was more than buzzed, we started to pack up because it was getting dark. Donnie said that if he had any more to drink he would not be able to drive. Goofing off and having silly, drunk conversations while packing up, we were all gathered around Donnie’s truck before parting ways. Jimmy was openly hitting on me in front of Josh. I never took it seriously knowing that he was in his mid-twenties.
He couldn’t possibly be serious
, I was thinking. The topic of boobs was somehow brought up, and Josh began bragging about how perfect mine were. “She probably doesn’t even have tits, she’s only fourteen,” Donnie proclaimed. Offended that a person was challenging my womanhood I replied, “Oh please; you’d be surprised.” Not knowing that I had placed myself into a vulnerable situation, Jimmy excitedly challenged me. “Yeah, right. If they’re so awesome then prove it!”

Standing in the dark, surrounded by four men who were all much older than me, I looked up at Josh to defend me. “Show ‘em,” he confidently said with a drunk, pathetic slur. They rambled consistently about me exposing myself for what felt like hours, and they were not about to let up.

I purposely postponed the challenge as long as I could because it was getting dark and the darker it got, the less they would be able to see. My liquid courage was not serving me so well this time. It was finally almost completely dark, and my buzz was wearing off and making me tired. I just wanted to go home. After the hundredth time, I finally lifted my shirt as if I were a confident showgirl from Vegas performing a routine. “Yep...those are brand new,” Donnie casually said as he was exhaling his cigarette smoke. “Damn! Junior has it made!” Jimmy practically yelled. (Junior was the nickname given to Josh by his coworkers because he was the runt of the group.)  Derrick looked annoyed and almost mad. “Macy is making lasagna tonight, and I’m outta here,” he said as he got into his car and drove off. With the flash show over, I was pleased to be accepted into this “grown-up” crowd, but my stomach ached and I knew that God was very sad with my decision. My youth and innocence were further tainted by this choice. I later blocked it out of my mind and pretended that it was just a bad dream.

Millions more thoughts raced through my mind while I sat on the wooden bench at the tire shop. There were even more conflicting emotions. I did not know if I should be happy or if I should be devastated. However, the more I thought about my child the more I grew attached with each passing minute. I knew who this person was, and I knew that this person was necessary to the world. This person was going to be beautiful, perfect and needed. I was not the only one that would need this person. My child’s purpose was much more powerful than that.

As a mostly mature adult, I have learned that what is meant to exist will exist. It will find a way to embrace this world if God decides that it needs to be here. Through this process, I felt God was with me. I heard God’s whisper of encouragement to move forward and to not allow any force to stand in my way. I felt safe and cared for even when I was at my loneliest moments.

When the next morning arrived, I knew deep down that I was going to keep this baby. No person or force would have the power to change my mind. I had a vision of what my baby was going to look like. She would be beautiful, tall, and skinny, with stunning blue eyes and a big, bright smile. And, of course, she would have long, dark hair. Yes, that would be her. I knew who she was long before I met her. I knew who she was from the beginning of her existence. I held off telling my mother the news for as long as possible. I just didn’t want to face it. I was worried she would be mad.

I was exhausted by the time the last school bell rang within a few days after finding out I was pregnant. I was enrolled in Driver’s Education class after school for the next few months and having to sit and watch documentaries on the consequences of drunk driving was no picnic. That was when the seriousness of my age was brought to light. I began to feel uneasy thinking about the fact that I was pregnant, and I wasn’t even old enough to get a driver’s license! I was no longer feeling confident about anything or secure with what I thought I wanted. That day I drove myself home with Mr. Morris in the passenger seat. He stomped on his brake pedal every time I went too fast or didn’t look over my shoulder. I was already feeling sick, and the bumpy ride was not helping. I walked into the house and slouched on the couch. I was happy the day was finally over.

Idly watching a talk show discussing cheating husbands and their lies, I barely glanced up when my mom came through the front door. She quickly looked at me and spoke. I was surprised by what came out of her mouth: “Are you pregnant?”
Well, shit. That was a pretty straight forward question
, I thought. I used my usual topic-avoidance-technique: I rolled my eyes. “No. What the hell? Where did you hear that?” I said, trying to sound offended. She then explained to me how she had received a phone call early in the day from one of my teachers who had overheard other kids talking about it. I was confused as to where that came from. I hadn’t told anyone except Josh!

My mom sighed with relief and walked back to her bedroom to do her usual nighttime ritual of watching the news in her pajamas and eating ice cream. I knew I could no longer hide the truth from her. I had to face what was happening.

The next morning I woke up feeling sick and nauseated. I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t going to school…my life was over anyway. I would spend the day at home trying to figure out how to tell my mom the truth. Josh came by the house on his lunch break to see how I was feeling. We mutually decided to spill the beans to my mom. Both of us were much too afraid to tell her in person. We decided to write her a letter. Later, after spending an hour carefully finding the right words to scribble down, Josh was brave and took the letter down to my mother’s bedroom. He came back up to me, and we waited in fear for her reaction. My room was directly above hers, so we could hear most of what was happening below.

“Gosh, damn it!” She was so mad that she didn’t come up to talk to us for what felt like a lifetime!

Finally, she came up to notify us that we better figure out what the hell we were going to do and how we were going to take care of this. I had no idea what she meant by “take care of this.” Neither did Josh.

The next morning I decided not to go to school again. I slept until about 10:00, and when I woke up, I still didn’t get out of bed for a while. I started to think about my options and how sad it would be to choose abortion. I knew that nothing could ever make me do such a horrible thing, but the thought of it still made me cry. I heard my mom coming up the stairs and I buried my face in my blanket. She walked in and sat on my bed. The second she started to lovingly twirl my bed-head frizzy hair the floodgates opened. It was as if the Hoover Dam had collapsed. Something about sympathy from a parent makes it much more difficult NOT to cry. She explained to me that I still had to go to school. She asked me what I wanted to do about the pregnancy. I told her that I would rather choose adoption over abortion. I told her that I did not want to feel guilty for the rest of my life for killing an innocent being.

“Well, if you and Josh are that serious, maybe we can look into you two getting married.” That statement brought me peace and comfort. I just needed her support in this. I knew that without her help I would be lost.

The events of the next few days changed the feeling of the situation. I finished up my Driver’s Ed but refused to attend my other classes. I did not want to deal with people talking about me every time I walked into a room. My mom scheduled an appointment with my school counselor to discuss my options. The counselors told me that I could keep attending my regular classes, get started on independent study and do work from home, or attend the Young Parents Program.

I wanted to stay at home. I had this idea that it would be safe to hide away from the world. What I did not know was that the world, and the people in it, could not be avoided.

Later that day a detective from the police department came to my door looking for Josh. One of my high school counselors had called the police.