(This is part two of a short series. You might refer to the previous post to get some context.)
The summer before my senior year of high school was nothing extraordinary. I had been dating the same guy for about two years. His family epitomized the party scene I had been introduced to, and that was completely antithetical to the home I grew up in. Smoking a joint at Sunday lunch while Grandma was in the kitchen was normal. (Please hear me say this: for the most part these people were good to me; the best they knew how.) Yet each small compromise, the next wrong choice, became a slippery slope I couldn’t recover from. I started my senior year pregnant.
Most of that time is a blur. So many new steps to navigate. There wasn’t a single moment of consideration given to abortion. I had friends who were having abortions. But this was never on my radar. Ultimately, I obviously had to tell my parents. (Not the most fun I’ve ever had.) I vaguely recall sadness and disappointment. But I can also tell you that my dad made sure to hug me. Although I can’t pinpoint details like what room I was in or what words were said, I do have memories of feeling as if there was anger directed at me. Us. The situation in general. I had failed, in epic proportion. Therefore, I was a failure. Right?
I can tell you how my conversation with my guidance counselor went. She wasn’t known for being especially pleasant and apparently, she didn’t have any extra servings of mercy, grace, or compassion to distribute on that particular day. My plan was to continue with my previously chosen classes and schedule. Evidently someone forgot to send her the memo. She very calmly and matter-of-factly suggested that I leave school and sign up for GED classes. (You know, having a pregnant student running around the halls didn’t set a proper example.) Let’s just say that to know me at all is to know what those words did to me. While ripping my heart out and planting more seeds in those dark corners of my mind, she also simultaneously caused me to “dig my heels in”. I became determined to show her (and anyone else that doubted) that I could be a good student, a great mom, and hold down a job. (By the way, my job was actually tied to a program I was enrolled in. So, I couldn’t do one without the other.)
I can’t lie. It was a rough year. I questioned myself more than a few times. The expectation was that we would get married. (To this day, I still wonder about that thought process.) But because I was 17 years old, I really wasn’t equipped to understand the magnitude of each decision being made. I went to school and class in the mornings. In the afternoons I went to the job tied to those classes. Fortunately, my employer extended the option of additional hours. I worked until early evening most days. We married on October 3rd and Brandon Kent was born on St. Patrick’s Day (two days after my 18th birthday). I was able to maintain decent grades (especially considering all I was juggling) and graduated in May with Brandon in the audience.
Despite all of the positive things I experienced, I felt like a complete failure. If you were to ask anyone, I’m not sure they would’ve known. I was skilled at pretending and giving the impression that life was amazing. Truth be told, I missed my friends (many of them didn’t stick around once they heard I was pregnant). I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be married. By all accounts I was a failure. I wasn’t a good daughter, student, wife, mom, etc. Those thoughts literally began to alter my decision-making ability.
What I didn’t understand at the time, was that I had bought the lies of the world. Instead of recalling those Bible verses I had memorized, I was believing the hateful words at the end of a night of drinking. When I should’ve gone running back to God, I was letting the enemy pull me farther and farther away. I was using the world as my plumb line. By that measure, I suppose you could call me a failure. But I was eventually going to discover that the world doesn’t get to define my success or failure. The only ONE with the right to do that is my Creator.
I Samuel 12:22 ~ For the Lord will not forsake his people, for his great name’s sake, because it has pleased the Lord to make you a people for himself.