Come As You Are

A story of becoming

*Content warning: this piece contains elements of domestic violence and sexual assault.

Come As You Are

Being a mother is about becoming. Becoming is about believing.

When I found out I was pregnant with my first child, my son, I didn’t believe it was real- I didn’t want it to be real. I had graduated from high school earlier that year, met a guy in Taos, NM while travling in the summer with a friend, went home, went back to Taos a month later, spent Oct/Nov on the Two Peaks Mesa with my abusive boyfriend who smoked too much weed and worshipped Bob Marely, begged for a bus ticket home from a local Mormon Bishop (I grew up in the Church), and by Christmas, the morning sickness kicked in.

“Honey, I think you are pregnant,” my Mom said with a hint of embarrased laughter.

“I can’t be pregnant, I haven’t even started my life yet,” I insisted.

“Better go get a test,” she shrugged.

For whatever reason, we didn’t just go to the store to buy one. Since I didn’t have any money to do so, Mom scheduled an appointment at the local health department.

It was around this time that my newly ex-boyfriend started calling me all the time.

“Hey mama, come back to the Mesa! I’m sorry I was an asshole!” this 28 yr old man begged of my 19yr old self.

“Absolutely not!” I hung up on him.

We had many conversations like this.

At some point, in the midst of these brief exchanges, I told him I was likely pregnant and that I wasn’t happy about it. He was elated.

And then he showed up at my house.

My mom originally wanted us to get married, but after spending 5 minutes with “Tiger” (that was his nickname, no one called him his actaul name) she was suddenly less insistant. However, she did make us get a hotel room because she didn’t want us “fornicating” in her house. Fair.

Tiger and I went to a hotel room near Five Points in Athens, GA. I was lost and sad, he was oblivious and horny.

Tiger was orginally from Alvin, TX. He had one sister, Christine, who was two years older than him. His father had been extremely abusive to his mom. He spent the first ten years of his life watching her being beaten bloody by a man that he loved and worshipped. Then his parents divorced. His dad married again, but went to prison for sexually assaulting his step-daughters. Tiger blamed women for ruining his dad’s life. And when I wasn’t on board with his dream of becoming a dad and husband, he blamed me, too.

So, I sat on the king-size bed of a seedy hotel while he took a shower, washing off the 3 day bus trip from Taos, and I tearfully contemplated my fate.

Despite my nausea and despair, he wanted to have sex. I reluctantly complied.

The next day, me, my Mom, and Tiger went to the Health Department for a pregancy test. It was positive. Tiger literally jumped for joy. I cried. We went back to my mom’s house.

I took my mom aside and told her I didn’t want to go back to the hotel with Tiger. She said we could stay in my step-dad’s camper in the front yard.

In the midst of all of this, I was intermittently vomiting from intense morning sickness. To say the least, I was miserable. At most, I wanted to die.

That evening, I went out to the camper with my baby daddy to talk about what we should do.

“I don’t want to go back to Taos. And I don’t want a baby,” I told him.

“You can’t do this to me, Mama! I want a baby and I’m not moving to fucking Georgia!!” he shouted.

“I’m going back inside,” I said, attempting to rise up from the small bed in the back of the camper.

“No!” he slammed his fist into the panel next to my face.

“I can’t do this, I’m not ready. Let me up,” I insisted.

He proceeded to push me down onto the flimsy mattress. He started to pull off my nightgown.

“No!” I cried.

He didn’t listen. We struggled. He wouldn’t let me up. He took what he wanted.

I wept.

After he fell asleep, I crept inside the house and went into my own bedroom. I spent the night crying and vomiting.

In the morning, I got up and told my mom that I wanted Tiger to leave and that I never wanted to see him again. When he came into the house, my mom and little brothers walked into the living room.

“Leave,” I said,”and never come back.”

He immediately started crying like a spoiled child who wasn’t getting to keep his favorite toy. He fell to the floor, dramatically, and grabbed my feet.

“Please, Mama, don’t make me leave. I love you,” he begged.

“I’m not your Mama and you need to go- now!” I said.

“Oh, sweetheart, you are so brave, “ my Mother interjected.

“Just get him the hell out of here,” I mumbled as I walked back to my room.

I’m not sure if it was my mom or my brother who took Tiger to the bus station, I just know that he was gone, much to my relief. I didn’t come out of my room the rest of the day except to throw up. I cried alot and played my piano and then cried some more.

I didn’t want a baby; I was pretty sure I never wanted kids. I got off track while taking a sabbatical after high school graduation, but I really wanted to go to college. I needed guidance and support, but instead, I got pregnant by an older guy who himself was completely inept at life. I was angry at him, but I was more angry with myself for being so careless with my future.

I won’t go into the details of the rest of my pregnancy and how I came to decide to keep my son, Sam. I already wrote about it last year (link posted below.) I will say that, after he was born, he became my world and I became his. And that was a choice that I don’t regret. Motherhood is sacrifice and I walked into it with eyes open. Sam will be 26 this year and his little sister turned 18 a few months ago. I’m still not the Mother I want to be, but I am becoming her.

The Author and her son circa 2003

Here is my other story about my pregnancy with Sam and how I made the decision to keep him.