The Pregnancy Club °A Teen Pregnancy Story°

The Pregnancy Club - Chapter 2 (Picture of Sadie)

Sadie

"Um . . . are you, feeling . . . okay?" My dad stuttered. He was standing at the doorway to my bedroom, rubbing his callused hands.

"Yes Dad, I'm fine." I snapped. Ever since I had told him about being pregnant, he had been acting like more of a father then he ever was. Most of the time he was holed up in the garage, working on whoever's car needed fixing.

My dad was a sort-of mechanic. He wasn't exactly his actual job, but when anybody in our neighbourhood had a broken car they would come to him. That was really where all the money had came from. Mom had run off when I was two, leaving my unexperienced, unsure and uninteresting father. He tried his best raising me, but I still ended up a strange, broken and now pregnant waste of space. I don't even know how this whole thing happned. I didn't even get knocked up by a guy I liked.

Well, technically I liked him, but he wasn't my boyfriend or anything. And don't stereotype me just yet, I'm no slut. But I got pregnant with my best friend since kindergarten. Ben Samuels, a tall, red-headed goofball with oddly blue eyes that didn't match his quiet, gawky looks and attitude. Adorale Ben Samuels, whom I just wanted as my friend but he wanted more. I knew he liked me, he told me at the Grade Seven Valentine's Dance, under the light of the cheap disco ball and surrounded by a bunch of other sweaty pre-teens. Even when I told him I didn't like him in that way, he still pursued me. I hated it. Our friendship was now awkward, and in so many ways I wish he had just kept his feeling to himself, I do it quite well. A month ago, after another day of Ben pleading, I gave in and allowed him to come over and do whatever he wanted with me, just for one night.

Turns out that one night is all it takes you ruin the rest of your nights.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna head downstairs. Shout if you need anything." my Dad mumbled, and left. Hah. Downstairs. Our house would practically be a bungalow if it weren't for the three steps that separated the front hallway and the rest of the house.

I looked around my room. It was the room I'd hyad since I was five. My dad decorated it as nice as he could, painting the walls a lilac colour and getting a canapy bed (that never got a canapy). Now the room was kind of childish, but I didn't want to ask my dad to redeccorate it again because he would probably want me to come to the store with him to pick everything out.

I wasn't sitting in my bed right now, but on an old rocking chair in the corner of the room. Lying in the bed of the place where I had created this . . . mistake, seemed to awkward for me to handle. I put a hand to the stomach that was about to start swelling, wondering how long it takes until you feel it kicking. The thought almost made me throw up.

I had no idea what I was going to do. I knew that if I kept the baby I would eventually have to give the baby up, that wasn't the problem. It was the time in between was where I needed to decided what to do. I knew that abortion was an option, but so far the videos I had seen on Youtube weren't exactly the most encouraging. I havn't even told Ben yet. I wouldn't know what I would say. "Hey, Ben! Guess what, I'm pregnant! Wanna' go watch the new episode of Mythbusters?" I doubt it. If there's one thing I have no clue on doing, it's expressing my feelings and inner thoughts. My insides are smothered by my outsides, held in with incredible strength by a strongly squeezing hand. If I tried to open my mouth, the invisible hands squeezed harder, punishing me for feeling.

I just wish I could take it all back.