I found out I was pregnant shortly before I turned 16. I went to a pregnancy center to find out. My boyfriend, who I loved and believed I was going to marry, went with me.
A different person walked out. He wasn’t ready and didn’t want a baby. He told me an abortion would be best.
My heart was broken. Shortly after finding out we were pregnant, I also found out he was cheating on me with a 21-year-old woman. She was pregnant shortly after.
I was under a tremendous amount of stress. When I told my parents, they told me they would support whatever I decided to do. I knew I needed to keep the baby.
At 5 months along I went into preterm labor and I was hemorrhaging. I have the Rh blood type and my body was trying to reject my baby. To make things worse, I was treated poorly from the beginning by the doctors. They did their best to shame me for my pregnancy.
Once I was stabilized they took me into a dark exam room where a pleasant looking older male doctor came in and spoke to me in the most soothing tones.
The doctor told me they could just let my baby die—“You know that I should just let the labor continue. The baby wouldn’t make it.” He added that I could just “go on with my life like it never happened.”
I firmly told him no. I wanted my baby.
That enraged him—He stomped out and tried to get my parents to come in and convince me to let my baby die. They told him that they would not and that it was my choice. I should mention that I was the only pro-lifer in my family—I wouldn’t have called myself that at the time, but I just didn’t think taking the life of my child should be a choice.
I fought for my son’s life all the way up to his birth.
I spent most of the next two months in the hospital on bed rest. They decided they wanted to do an amniocentesis to check for Down syndrome. I initially agreed until a sweet nurse came in and asked me if I would keep him anyway. I told her yes, and she told me I risked losing the baby if I had the amniocentesis.
Of course the doctor neglected to tell me that. No doubt they planned to let me know in a mountain of paperwork.
I decided against it—thanks to that nurse. While I was in labor they wanted to do a C-section which I refused. He was born at 32 weeks in 1992. He weighed 3 lbs 10 oz. It was two months before he came home from the hospital.
I had seriously considered adoption for him because I didn’t know if I could be a good enough mother. I ultimately couldn’t imagine placing him for adoption. Being such a young mom was hard, but totally worth it. We got through it together.
The picture above is from his wedding this year. I have no regrets—Life is always the right choice.
This story was shared with us by Leticia via our My Story page.
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