God's Grace in the Unplanned Pregnancy

This is my daughter, Alyssa's, story of her pregnancy & the birth of Kaylee. It is on my blog because she doesn't have one, but she wanted to tell her story of unplanned pregnancy & the birth of her daughter so hopefully, some girl somewhere can have hope that God is always there, even when we don't feel He is, to shower us with grace & love. (You can read my side of the story here.)

I’ve had many sleepless nights thinking about if I should even do this or not. I’ve convinced myself that many people who read it will judge me and criticize my decisions about the whole situation. But I’ve finally decided that I can’t control how they react.  I’ve decided that I’m ready to be open about the birth of my baby girl. I wrote an entire other story about it, but after much prayer and much guidance, I decided to come at it with a different approach. This is NOT a story to glorify the sin of premarital sex. This is NOT a story to bash and put down Kaylee’s father. This IS a story to show the grace, love, and protection of my amazing God during my pregnancy and the birth of my precious baby girl.

            Kaylee’s father, Haqq Tertuliano, and I started our relationship in the beginning of my senior year. We weren’t exclusive, but people knew we were “together.” We continued this relationship through my senior year and the first part of my freshman year in college. The whole relationship wasn’t healthy from the start. We hid each other from our parents. We never actually went out on a date; we would just meet either at his house or mine. And, if I’m being honest, it seemed as though the whole relationship was purely physical. I, of course, had deeper feelings for him, but I can’t speak for Haqq and how he felt towards me. I knew what we were doing was wrong, but it didn’t make me stop. I just wanted to do what pleased me. I was about to leave for college anyway, so I never tried to ask for more.

As I look back on our relationship, and even past relationships, I was always the one that cared more. Or cared too much. I never demanded respect or anything from the guy; just attention. And I would do anything to get it. My whole life, I have always thought I needed a guy’s attention to validate my worth. Instead of seeking the approval of Christ, I sought out the approval of any guy that would give me the time of day. I always did what made other people happy; not worrying about if it was what God wanted from me. That’s how most of my entire relationships were, even with Haqq. Always doing what he wanted and pleasing him in any way that he wanted. That’s why we never labeled our relationship.

            Leaving for college was the best thing I thought could happen to me because it would get me away from Tifton. I could finally have a fresh start and no one would know what I’ve done in the past unless I was the one to tell them. It was just what I needed. Haqq and I decided to keep our relationship going and I would come see him the weekends I came home. We did this for a few weeks and then, with each of us getting busy and him starting his senior year in high school, we just didn’t have much time to talk to each other, so we broke it off.

After a month of being in college, I started to notice that I hadn’t had my period since I got to Truett. At first, I didn’t think anything of it because my periods have been irregular my whole life. But after the second month had past, I started getting worried. I got in my car, went to Walmart and bought a 2 pack pregnancy test. I went back to the dorm, waited until everyone was asleep, went to the bathroom and locked myself in the stall and took the tests. Those were the longest two minutes of my life. When I finally got the courage to look at it, my whole life changed. I saw those two little pink lines and all I could do was cry. As first, I tried to talk myself into believing it wasn’t really happening, that it was just a false positive. I think, if I remember correctly, the total number of tests that I took came out to be 12, all of which were positive. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what to do. All I could come up with was, “How am I supposed to take care of a baby?” I was a freshman in college, four and half hours away from home, with no job. The only person I said anything to was Haqq. I asked him what I needed to do. He told me that he wanted no part in this and that he couldn’t be there to help me. He left me to deal with this by myself.

I hate to even admit this next part. I hate that this was even a thought in my mind, let alone my first initial choice. I decided I was going to have an abortion. I thought that that was the best option for me. How was I supposed to go back home from a Christian college, pregnant? The guilt, shame, and just pure fear alone kept bringing me back to thoughts of having an abortion. That way no one would even know and I could get back to starting my life and doing what I thought I was called to do. I called the Planned Parenthood that was near me and spoke to someone about my different options. Being as how I never went to the doctor to see how far along I was, I just guessed. When I called them, I told them I was about 4-6 weeks. They told me on option at this point in the pregnancy was to take the abortion pill. I knew I couldn’t put that on my parent’s insurance, so I would have to pay for it out of pocket. The pill itself cost $850, and that’s not including the doctor’s visits to see if it worked. I knew that I couldn’t get the money in time, and I knew that I couldn’t get a D & C because that would have cost way much more and would require me to stay in the hospital for a few nights. I felt stuck. However, I am extremely grateful that God intervened at that moment and made it to where an abortion was not possible. I would have never been able to live with myself had it happened.

My only other option that I had was adoption. I had planned on going through the whole pregnancy without anyone knowing, and when the time came, to give the baby up for adoption. Since I knew this baby was going to mixed, I knew he/she wouldn’t have been accepted in my family. As confusing as it is to me, there are just some people that don’t agree with interracial relationships. So I knew the chaos it would bring into the family (and that it did bring into the family) to have a biracial child. So, in my opinion, adoption was my best choice.  I found out that hospitals have this thing where if the pregnant woman doesn’t want the baby, all the woman has to do is let a nurse know and they deal with everything themselves. So that’s what I had decided to do. I was going to give the baby up for adoption and not worry about it anymore.

I never showed very much like most woman do. In fact, I even lost weight while I was pregnant. I never went to a single doctor’s appointment. I didn’t know the gender until I had her. I never got a sonogram or got to hear her heartbeat. Nothing. I will always be mad at myself for that. In that moment, I was so selfish, that now I have nothing to show my baby girl of when she was in mommy’s belly. I would watch her move around in my belly. I actually took tons of pictures and videos of her kicking me. But I deleted them all in fear that someone might see them and find out. I can still remember what it felt like when she got hiccups. I can remember where I was when I first felt her move. When I would take videos, I’d always put them in a message to send to my parents, but I’d always delete it. I actually “tried” to tell my parents. I tried so hard to get them to let me come home from college and go to ABAC. But they were just being the good parents they are and pushed me to at least finish the year out. I knew I couldn’t keep her, but it was so difficult to not want to. It was so difficult to not fall in love when I felt her move. But I knew I couldn’t do it. Every night, I’d watch her move and just cry because I had already made up my mind that adoption was the best, and only, choice for her to have a good life.

The day finally came. Around 5pm on April 15^th, I began having contractions. I thought they were just Braxton Hicks, so I honestly didn’t worry too much about it. They hurt, man did they hurt. I actually talked with my Mama on the phone that night. I could have easily told her, but I didn’t. I wanted to so bad. I was hurting so much and all I wanted was my Mama to come make me feel better. The contractions kept getting worse and worse. I didn’t sleep much that night. I couldn’t ever get comfortable. Around 10 am the nest morning, the day my precious baby girl made her appearance, I finally decided that I had to go to the hospital. That morning was the first time I ever said anything to anyone about me being pregnant. I told my best friend, Bree Barfield. For the first time, someone other than myself knew I was having a baby. And the only reason I told her was because I knew I couldn’t drive myself to the hospital. I could barely walk let alone operate a vehicle. The car ride to the hospital was silent besides trying to figure out which one to go to. The first hospital we went to wasn’t a labor and delivery, so we had to sit there for about an hour or two, waiting on them to fill out paperwork to transfer me to Gainesville. Throughout this entire time, I kept saying to everyone that I wasn’t keeping the baby, I wasn’t keeping the baby.

Finally, the ambulance got there and I was loaded up. I so wish I could remember the name of the man who rode in the back with me. He was the absolute sweetest man. He asked me what was going on and what my birth plan was. When I told him I didn’t have one and that I wasn’t keeping the baby, he just broke down. I’ll never forget the words he said to me. He said, “Sweetie, I will never understand why you thought you had to go through this alone. I’m here with you now. I’m not going to let you do this alone.” Usually the paramedics are supposed to stop at the desk when they walk in to sign release papers and such, but he walked with me all the way to my room and held my hand the entire time. The only reason he left was because he had another call. He told me he’d be back after his shift. And he did come back.

The whole time I was in labor, all I said was, “I don’t want the baby. I don’t want the baby. I’m not keeping the baby.” Bree ended up telling her parents, who, in turn, told mine. I’ll never forget the hurt in my dad’s voice when I finally told him what was happening. Because of me and my selfishness and shame, they weren’t there to see their first grandbaby being born. They weren’t there to hold my hand and tell me everything was going to be okay. I’ll never be able to forgive myself for letting them miss such a beautiful thing. I already told them I wasn’t keeping the baby and that I was giving the baby up for adoption. They asked me not to make any decisions until they got there, but I already made up my mind.

After 12 hours of being in labor, I finally had her. They asked me if I wanted to hold her and I told them no. I wouldn’t even look in her direction; I kept my eyes closed the whole time. All I kept thinking was how I wished they would take her out of the room so I didn’t have to worry about this anymore. I will forever regret not holding my baby girl as soon as she was born. The only reason I did hold her was because I had to move rooms, and my mom asked me to at least give her the love she needed for the time being, until I gave her away. Oh, but when I held her. She was so beautiful. So very beautiful. I knew I couldn’t do this. I knew there was no possible way I could let this beautiful baby girl go. All I remember saying was how beautiful she was. But I also couldn’t help but think about how I knew I couldn’t support her and give her the life she needed. After my parents got there, and after a long conversation about the pros and cons for adoption verses keeping her, it wasn’t until 5 hours after I had her that I decided to do this and keep her. That’s when I named her: Kaylee Nicole Day. My precious 5lbs 7oz, brown eyed, curly haired baby girl. The next couple of days are a blur to me, considering I didn’t get much sleep and I had low iron, so I wasn’t feeling well what so ever. All I do remember, is holding my daughter the whole time. I never out her down. I was so very much in love.

The Sunday I finally went public with Kaylee, Haqq messaged me and asked if she was his and I said yes. He still didn’t want anything to do with her. He said he wasn’t mature enough, and that he didn’t think he’d be a good father to her. I still struggle with him not being in her life. How could he see this beautiful little girl and not want to be in her life? I’ve prayed and prayed about the situation with him and I’ve finally decided that it’s not right to hide the fact that he is her father.  I’m not sure if he’ll actually read this, but if he does, I want him to know that I don’t hate him. I don’t have any hard feelings towards him. If anything, I hurt for him. I hurt because he’s not here getting to see his little girl grow up. He wasn’t here for the first time she crawled, or her first steps. I pray every night that he’ll come around. But I know I can’t focus on that. It’s his decision. For now, I’ll just get the extra snuggles and kisses. I get the pleasure of seeing her become the sassy little girl she is. I just hope he knows that the door will always be open. I’m not going to keep Kaylee from him if he actually comes around and makes a permanent commitment to being her father. All I can do right now is continue to pray for him. I’ll always love him. He gave me my biggest blessing. And for that, I will forever thank him.

I’ll never be able to express how grateful I am for any and every person who gave to, helped with, or had anything to do with helping to love on Kaylee and I. From the sweet, sweet nurses at the hospital who kept smuggling diapers, clothes, bottles, you name it to my room, to the ladies’ Sunday school class at Northside for throwing me a baby shower. I definitely never went without any help. I am so very thankful for how everyone took this whole situation. I never once felt looked down upon. I never once was told I was a disappointment. I got nothing but love towards me and my baby girl. I was truly blessed.

These past 17 months have been anything but easy. From getting up every two hours to make sure this new person was fed and changed, to sharing my bed with a stubborn girl who is a bed hog, and every moment in between – I wouldn’t change a thing. I still have struggles with some people on account of Kaylee being biracial. The important people in my life who didn’t initially agree with it have come around and now love my little girl. They still don’t agree with interracial relationships, but they don’t shut her out as much anymore. I still struggle with wondering how in the world I’m going to provide for her on my own. My parents help me out tremendously right now and it scares me to think I’ll be doing this on my own someday. I’ll have to deal with Kaylee feeling worthless and unwanted because I didn’t want her at first, and Haqq not wanting her now. I’ll have to deal with the fact that I don’t have anything to show her of how she was in my belly or anything of that nature. I’ll always have to deal with the shame of thinking of aborting her first. But I know I’ll be able to do it. I know I’ll be able to give her the love she needs. I know I’ll always be her number one fan. I’ll never give up. I’ll never stop trying to give Kaylee any and everything she needs and more. No, this isn’t me giving myself a pat on the back and say, “Hey, look what I did.” This is me saying, “Hey, look what God helped me through.”