Status: Completed.
Sacrificial
1.
In this entire lifetime that I will be living, I can continue making the same mistakes – over and over.
“Take this time,” Ryan said as he leaned his body even closer. Not that his face wasn’t already too close for me to file a restraining order. This, I secretly thought. “To think,” he said. By this time, I could already feel his hot breath slam against my sensitive skin. His voice increased in pressure as he pronounced each syllable with a hint of precision – caution. “Okay?” he added.
Was it really this easy?
Is it this easy to take all this time to think about my child’s future? This child breathing in my womb, depending on every single thing that I do? I wonder. Is this exactly how my mom felt when she had me at 19? Did she, too, take three months to decide on my future? I can’t take this easily, because sooner or later, I will have to decide on my child’s existence. Does an unborn baby deserve to be neglected like this?
I don’t think so.
Before I even tried to speak, my throat was held back by dryness. Even the words that I kept to myself for so long weren’t enough. All the things that I wanted to tell Ryan is all inside. I want to tell him that I can’t go through abortion, that I want this baby to be born. Because it’s mine. The words just didn’t fall into place easily as I expected.
No matter how hard I try to practice, they never come out right. Maybe, it just never will. In my heart, I’ve already accepted that.
“Grace?” Ryan’s voice came out irritated. By now, I could see the very color of his eyes. They were beautiful, contained into a magnificent almond shape. “Please,” he begged, his voice sounded weak. “All I want is what’s best for us.”
Can someone say it actually is?
I gulped, clutching the ends of my skirt defensively. Even if I’ve been pregnant for 3 months, the bump still doesn’t show. As long as I wear the right clothes, no one will even know that an unborn baby is quietly developing inside my body. “Ryan.” I tried to speak in a strong defined manner. “I don’t think so.”
Please tell me that he’s willing to help me raise my baby.
“Why not?” Ryan rebutted anxiously, almost slamming his hand on the table. I gulped once more, feeling myself bite my lip. “All you have to do is think!” he hollered right in front of my face. Disgusting saliva droplets land on my shirt. “Just review the situation.”
Looks like I already got my answer.
“Okay, Grace?” he said in pieces that I easily knew well. "Think. Again."
I held the small bump forming on my stomach. “No,” I said indignantly. My mind was already set. “I’m going to keep my child whether you like it or not.” And no one else can change that. Not even the person who secretly lured me into this position in the first place.
If Ryan doesn’t want to help me raise OUR child, then screw him.
This is my child.
I pushed myself up from my seat before striding past Ryan. Sure, I looked embarrassed and humiliated. Yes, I must’ve looked like an idiot right there in front of the many people eating. And, of course, I know that sooner or later the news about Grace Rooste’s pregnancy.
But I’ve already made my decision. And I will never look back.
***
“No way,” I yelled out as I dropped the pregnancy test on the floor.
A startling green line that signaled a positive was too hard to miss. I felt a strong pang on my chest as I began to cry uncontrollably at the disappointing measure.
How could I do this to myself?
For hours I cried before being able to regain my composure. There was already a pool of tears on my spot, and my shirt was drenched with sweat. However, I’ve already made a decision that will never be revoked. Outside, no one can hear me. I am a product of my own self, as I looked up straight at my reflection on the mirror. For now, I’m only 17 – 5’2, 122 pounds with ash brown hair and olive-toned skin. Yes, I’m still immature and selfish. I still want to get the last sausage on the table, and I would still want to buy the newest clothes.
But I will never blame my child for being born under these conditions.
“I won’t let you down.” I murmured, holding my stomach. “Never,” I touched my stomach, trying to picture an image of my baby laying hidden deep inside me.
Closing my eyes, I forced a smile. They say that the baby feels what the mother feels from inside the womb. I don’t want to give my child any ideas of feeling neglected. Or even the thoughts of being unwanted.
“You’re going to live.” I whispered. “And I’ll be here the whole way to make sure.”
Even if I tried to be strong, tears continued to flow from my eyes.
***
What am I going to do?
Right now, I’m sitting at our front porch still staring blankly on the open street as I held my stomach. Never have I thought that the summer air could be this cold. For hours, all I did was to think. I kept on looming over my future. Will I still go to college? What about my baby? Do I have to work while I study? Do I even have something to feed my child? What about education? Will I even have the chance to conceive my baby?
I think I’m going to go crazy.
And I haven’t even told my own parents yet. “What did I do to deserve this?!” I shrilled in frustration.
Suddenly, a beat-up car screeched as it halted to a sudden stop right in front of me. I gulped, easily recognizing that old Volvo. That rusty old piece of crap. “That dumbass!” I heard from inside the vehicle.
And I easily recognized that voice. “Nate?” I called out. “Is that you, Nate?” I asked again to make sure.
The driver’s car door opened, and there jumped off was – indeed – Nate. From the looks of it, he’d just got out of Football practice. “Went here as soon as I heard,” he said out loudly. (Did news get out that fast?) His hair was frazzled and face was unusually pink. “And to think you dumped me for THAT ass.” he said as he marched even nearer, bringing a basket full of items. “That was really rich, Ace.” Nate dropped the basket and sat beside me on the porch. He smelled of a musky earthly scent. “Really rich,”
It took me a long time to piece out the words correctly. “Nate,” I faced him, feeling my hands tremble. “I’m sorry.”
Nate’s eyes looked tired. In the phase of a fresh afternoon, I was sitting here dreading about everything. I don’t deserve anyone’s company except my own child’s. Even the rumors that were already probably circulating in school didn’t matter that much. “Well, don’t be,” His eyes were fixated on my stomach before taking a look straight on my eyes. “Another life is in your hands.”
I leaned on his shoulder, staring at the basket right in front of our walkway. There were different fruits and some books about teenage pregnancy. “Nate,” I felt hesitation run through my veins. “I’m so embarrassed with myself.” I gave him the biggest hug, feeling all my frustration out in the open – all released and healed.
“You’ll get by.” He said brushing my shoulders. “I know that you will.” he reminded me reassuringly, pressing my head on his chest. “And I’ll be here with you and your baby the whole time.”
By now, I finally realized what sacrifice means.
“You’ll be okay.”
Sacrifice doesn’t mean you have to die for someone and become a martyr. No. It definitely means more than that. I learned that it means having to give-up all your means for someone else. And for Nate, it wasn’t about him getting back at me for dumping him those months ago.
“Thank you,” I murmured, wiping away my tears.
It was about giving up his all – for me.
“Take this time,” Ryan said as he leaned his body even closer. Not that his face wasn’t already too close for me to file a restraining order. This, I secretly thought. “To think,” he said. By this time, I could already feel his hot breath slam against my sensitive skin. His voice increased in pressure as he pronounced each syllable with a hint of precision – caution. “Okay?” he added.
Was it really this easy?
Is it this easy to take all this time to think about my child’s future? This child breathing in my womb, depending on every single thing that I do? I wonder. Is this exactly how my mom felt when she had me at 19? Did she, too, take three months to decide on my future? I can’t take this easily, because sooner or later, I will have to decide on my child’s existence. Does an unborn baby deserve to be neglected like this?
I don’t think so.
Before I even tried to speak, my throat was held back by dryness. Even the words that I kept to myself for so long weren’t enough. All the things that I wanted to tell Ryan is all inside. I want to tell him that I can’t go through abortion, that I want this baby to be born. Because it’s mine. The words just didn’t fall into place easily as I expected.
No matter how hard I try to practice, they never come out right. Maybe, it just never will. In my heart, I’ve already accepted that.
“Grace?” Ryan’s voice came out irritated. By now, I could see the very color of his eyes. They were beautiful, contained into a magnificent almond shape. “Please,” he begged, his voice sounded weak. “All I want is what’s best for us.”
Can someone say it actually is?
I gulped, clutching the ends of my skirt defensively. Even if I’ve been pregnant for 3 months, the bump still doesn’t show. As long as I wear the right clothes, no one will even know that an unborn baby is quietly developing inside my body. “Ryan.” I tried to speak in a strong defined manner. “I don’t think so.”
Please tell me that he’s willing to help me raise my baby.
“Why not?” Ryan rebutted anxiously, almost slamming his hand on the table. I gulped once more, feeling myself bite my lip. “All you have to do is think!” he hollered right in front of my face. Disgusting saliva droplets land on my shirt. “Just review the situation.”
Looks like I already got my answer.
“Okay, Grace?” he said in pieces that I easily knew well. "Think. Again."
I held the small bump forming on my stomach. “No,” I said indignantly. My mind was already set. “I’m going to keep my child whether you like it or not.” And no one else can change that. Not even the person who secretly lured me into this position in the first place.
If Ryan doesn’t want to help me raise OUR child, then screw him.
This is my child.
I pushed myself up from my seat before striding past Ryan. Sure, I looked embarrassed and humiliated. Yes, I must’ve looked like an idiot right there in front of the many people eating. And, of course, I know that sooner or later the news about Grace Rooste’s pregnancy.
But I’ve already made my decision. And I will never look back.
***
“No way,” I yelled out as I dropped the pregnancy test on the floor.
A startling green line that signaled a positive was too hard to miss. I felt a strong pang on my chest as I began to cry uncontrollably at the disappointing measure.
How could I do this to myself?
For hours I cried before being able to regain my composure. There was already a pool of tears on my spot, and my shirt was drenched with sweat. However, I’ve already made a decision that will never be revoked. Outside, no one can hear me. I am a product of my own self, as I looked up straight at my reflection on the mirror. For now, I’m only 17 – 5’2, 122 pounds with ash brown hair and olive-toned skin. Yes, I’m still immature and selfish. I still want to get the last sausage on the table, and I would still want to buy the newest clothes.
But I will never blame my child for being born under these conditions.
“I won’t let you down.” I murmured, holding my stomach. “Never,” I touched my stomach, trying to picture an image of my baby laying hidden deep inside me.
Closing my eyes, I forced a smile. They say that the baby feels what the mother feels from inside the womb. I don’t want to give my child any ideas of feeling neglected. Or even the thoughts of being unwanted.
“You’re going to live.” I whispered. “And I’ll be here the whole way to make sure.”
Even if I tried to be strong, tears continued to flow from my eyes.
***
What am I going to do?
Right now, I’m sitting at our front porch still staring blankly on the open street as I held my stomach. Never have I thought that the summer air could be this cold. For hours, all I did was to think. I kept on looming over my future. Will I still go to college? What about my baby? Do I have to work while I study? Do I even have something to feed my child? What about education? Will I even have the chance to conceive my baby?
I think I’m going to go crazy.
And I haven’t even told my own parents yet. “What did I do to deserve this?!” I shrilled in frustration.
Suddenly, a beat-up car screeched as it halted to a sudden stop right in front of me. I gulped, easily recognizing that old Volvo. That rusty old piece of crap. “That dumbass!” I heard from inside the vehicle.
And I easily recognized that voice. “Nate?” I called out. “Is that you, Nate?” I asked again to make sure.
The driver’s car door opened, and there jumped off was – indeed – Nate. From the looks of it, he’d just got out of Football practice. “Went here as soon as I heard,” he said out loudly. (Did news get out that fast?) His hair was frazzled and face was unusually pink. “And to think you dumped me for THAT ass.” he said as he marched even nearer, bringing a basket full of items. “That was really rich, Ace.” Nate dropped the basket and sat beside me on the porch. He smelled of a musky earthly scent. “Really rich,”
It took me a long time to piece out the words correctly. “Nate,” I faced him, feeling my hands tremble. “I’m sorry.”
Nate’s eyes looked tired. In the phase of a fresh afternoon, I was sitting here dreading about everything. I don’t deserve anyone’s company except my own child’s. Even the rumors that were already probably circulating in school didn’t matter that much. “Well, don’t be,” His eyes were fixated on my stomach before taking a look straight on my eyes. “Another life is in your hands.”
I leaned on his shoulder, staring at the basket right in front of our walkway. There were different fruits and some books about teenage pregnancy. “Nate,” I felt hesitation run through my veins. “I’m so embarrassed with myself.” I gave him the biggest hug, feeling all my frustration out in the open – all released and healed.
“You’ll get by.” He said brushing my shoulders. “I know that you will.” he reminded me reassuringly, pressing my head on his chest. “And I’ll be here with you and your baby the whole time.”
By now, I finally realized what sacrifice means.
“You’ll be okay.”
Sacrifice doesn’t mean you have to die for someone and become a martyr. No. It definitely means more than that. I learned that it means having to give-up all your means for someone else. And for Nate, it wasn’t about him getting back at me for dumping him those months ago.
“Thank you,” I murmured, wiping away my tears.
It was about giving up his all – for me.
♠ ♠ ♠
:)