This installment picks up where another left off. So, if you haven’t read The Beginning:: Truth Hurts, do so before reading this post.
It’s your life, Phoebe. No one has to know anything. If you take care of it, life can go on just as you planned. No worries.
Those thoughts ran through my mind on daily basis for at least a month before I finally decided enough was enough.
Forget it, Phoebe. It’s just too much.
In my typical fashion, I did just that. Forgot about the positive pregnancy test and went on with life as if nothing was inside me, and nothing had changed. Surely if I forgot about it long enough, the “problem” would take care of itself, right? It would go away all on it’s own.
The months went by, and foolishly, I still pretended that life was peachy. Strangely, I do this with just about every traumatic experience I encounter. Definitely not healthy, but my coping mechanism nonetheless.
D’s behavior began to get even more suspicious than it already was, and I began to really second guess everything. He would disappear at night, and got increasingly angry with me over the little things. I began to fear what would happen next.
One day during a heated argument, my fear became a reality. With an infant in the other room, screams came from the master bedroom as I was violently thrown onto the bed with hands pressing on my throat. No longer able to catch my breath, I fought for what seemed like hours as insults were thrown back at me. Words and sexual threats that I can’t even bear to type.
This is your life, Phoebe. You can’t do this.
My instincts kicked in, and everything that anyone ever told me about self defense flooded to the forefront of my mind.
You’ve got this! And I did.
The days went on and I knew I couldn’t deny it anymore. I had to get to the doctor, and do what I had to do. It was time to face it, and start this life all over.
I will never forget that day for the rest of my life. I went into the doctor’s office, and they confirmed that I was indeed pregnant. The nurse was joyful, and I was not. She noticed it immediately and tried to reassure me that everything would be okay. She rambled on things like… Nicholas was fine now, and I was a great mother to him. While it would be tough–you can do it, you’ve already overcome so much.
Those words were all too late. My mind was set. I did not want this baby.
The doctor insisted on doing an ultrasound even though I had no desire. At this point I was already about 17 weeks along. I vividly remembering telling the doctor that I had no desire to have this baby, and my hope was that I hadn’t waited too long to terminate the pregnancy. He never said anything back to me, just continued on with his business. Then he asked me if I wanted to know the sex. At this point I became highly frustrated with the nurse and the doctor because I felt as if they were ignoring my wishes.
This is my life. I’ve made my decision, now leave me alone!
The doctor was adamant on telling me the baby’s sex, even though I told him numerous times I did not care.
It’s a girl!
At that particular moment and for a many afterward, I really didn’t care. But the reality is, those words ended up being the words that saved my baby’s life.
God has a mysterious way of working! Never ignore the pleading and prodding of the Holy Spirit! You never know how lives will be changed!