It was a pretty normal day in the spring. I went to work, came home, and texted with my friends while catching up on my weekly shows while my cat went searching for something to tear between his paws. Nothing out of the ordinary but the tiny little butterfly that I felt in the pit of abdomen was still there.
I cut off the television and putdown my phone and with the glow of the light from my nightstand, I shuffled across my bedroom floor into my bathroom, bent over in my soft, cotton dress to search through my lower cabinet, and dusted off a pregnancy test that had been dormant since the summer before.
That was my last scare. We’ve all had them right? I told him I had a feeling, I bought a 2-pack of tests and we texted back and forth as I told him it was just a false alarm when I only saw one line. I threw the spare test to the back of my cabinet and went along with my life until he ended it a few weeks later.
Time had passed – summer had turned into fall, fall into winter, and my spring I was almost back in my stride. Yet, we hooked up a few weeks before when he called me in the middle of the night. I had pledged to spend the next 40 days of Lent abstaining from men and taking a break from so many bad first dates in an attempt to get over him without bringing my baggage into my next relationship but when he called and said he needed me, I went.
The white tile, a silent apartment and before me were two blue lines. Positive.
I was pregnant.
In the last year, I’ve faced a high risk pregnancy, given birth, and have become a mother to the sweetest, most beautiful little boy named Lennon James. I’m raising him alone with the support of my friends and family.
On one of the first times that Lennon’s dad and I argued over what I should do, I was scheduled to write my weekly Unfiltrd Newsletter. It was a Friday and I called in sick to work with my first bout of morning sickness that yes, lasted the entire day, evening, and the next 7 weeks. I had no idea what I was scheduled to write about but I will let you know that I wasn’t up to the task.
I was struggling. I was being faced with the decision of whether or not I wanted to keep this baby – knowing that I’d be doing it as a single mother, the heartbreaking reality of rejection by someone you loved, a new job, debt (Let’s not forget that I quit my full time job 6 months earlier to “live my best life” aka “blow through my savings.”), a start up, and a million other little things. I wanted to write but I didn’t want to self publish my diary. I didn’t think that there was anything I could speak to or inspire people from when I was in such a low place.
I did write though. I filled up a journals and iPhone notes with my story, thoughts, and prayers and I knew I’d come back to this space when the time was right because I still believe in it. I still believe in me.
I want to continue to build Unfiltrd to be a place that features the conversations we’re not having in the mainstream. Let’s talking about motherhood and parenting- it’s fucking hard. Let’s talking about money and finance — what the hell are you doing now that we’re in a pandemic? Do you still have the same goals? Are you moving things around? Let’s talk about age, religion, our connectedness to guide or a higher being. Let’s talk about mental health, CBD, and how the hell we’re managing our collective anxiety. Let’s talk about work, career goals, and bucket lists. Let’s talk about love and time and how we’re changing and shifting as a society.
I suppose we can still talk about beauty, books, and fashion as well. We’ll always try to balance the light and heavy but let’s open this space back up to what is real. Let’s encourage each other to be more real and continue to share our stories. I will continue to share mine and honnneeey, there is a lot to share.
Unfiltrd is a community that likes to feature voices of everyday people – especially women and people of color – to share content related to motherhood and parenting, mental wellness, career, finance, spirituality, and other lifestyle topics. If you’d like to submit an essay or become a regular contributor, email us at firstname.lastname@example.org.