The Day I Told My Mom I Was Pregnant
The day I revealed my pregnancy at church started with a wave of morning sickness and ended with my mother disowning me. But what happened afterward changed everything and led her to completely change her heart.
I’m a college student majoring in psychology, and I met Glenn last fall in our Intro to Research Methods class. We started as study buddies, but from the very beginning, he had this amazing way of explaining things that made everything click in my head.
And his smile? It was like sunshine breaking through the clouds, lighting up the whole lecture hall.
“Faith, you’re staring again,” he’d tease during our study sessions, and every time, my cheeks would turn bright red.
“Can’t help it if you’re distracting,” I’d shoot back, and we’d laugh like we were sharing the world’s best secret.
As the weeks went by, our study sessions turned into coffee dates after class and then into hours spent at the diner. We shared endless plates of waffle fries while trading our life stories. Glenn told me about his childhood, running through fields and climbing trees, while I opened up about losing my dad when I was just five years old.
One night at the diner, he reached across the table, squeezed my hand, and said, “Your dad would be so proud of you, Faith, for following your dreams and wanting to help people through psychology.”
The first time he kissed me was on the porch swing outside my mom’s house, and I swear I saw stars. It felt magical! But when I told my mom about Glenn, she just pressed her lips together and said, “That’s nice, sugar. Don’t forget about that big exam coming up.”
That’s my mama, Claudia. Since Daddy passed away, she devoted herself entirely to raising me and her love for nature. She never dated anyone else and didn’t seem interested in love again. Sometimes, I’d catch her glancing at my dad’s photo with a look that made my heart ache. Once, I tried asking her, “Mama, don’t you ever get lonely?”
“I’ve got you,” she replied, smoothing out her skirt. “That’s all the company I need.”
Everything was going smoothly until one morning when I woke up feeling too sick to move. Just the thought of food turned my stomach, and panic started to creep in as I realized what those symptoms could mean.
My hands shook as I opened the drawer where I had hidden a pregnancy test. When I finally saw two pink lines, I could only stare in shock.
Nineteen years old, still in college, and pregnant. My heart raced as I paced my room, imagining how my mom would react—and none of it looked good. I was sure she’d never accept a child born out of wedlock.
For days, I hid in my room, dodging Mama’s meals and finding excuses to avoid her. “Faith, baby girl,” she called out one evening, “I made your favorite pancakes!”
“Thanks, Mama, but I already grabbed a granola bar,” I lied, guilt twisting in my stomach.
This charade went on until Thursday when she finally confronted me. She stood in my doorway, arms crossed, and that mom-stare fixed on me that I knew all too well.
“Since when do you skip my pancakes? And don’t think I haven’t noticed you running to the bathroom every morning,” she said, her tone sharp.
“Just stressed about exams,” I muttered, trying to sound convincing.
“Uh-huh,” she replied, raising an eyebrow. “And that’s why you haven’t touched your coffee in days?”
Desperate to escape her questions, I grabbed my backpack and rushed to the library, avoiding her worried gaze. But by Sunday, she was not buying my excuses anymore. “Faith, honey, we’re going to be late for service!” she called.
At church, everything felt normal until the nausea hit me again, and my mom noticed immediately. She leaned in, her eyes narrowing. “Faith, what’s going on?”
Unable to keep the secret any longer, I whispered, “Mom, I need to tell you something. I’m pregnant.”
The silence that followed was unbearable. My mom’s expression shifted from shock to betrayal. She stood up, her voice trembling, and hissed, “Get out of this church and pack your things. How could you do this? You’ve shamed our family!” My tears blurred the pews as I stumbled toward the door, feeling like my world was crumbling.
But then, a familiar voice stopped me. It was Pastor James, walking toward us with a calm demeanor. “Claudia,” he said gently, “would you really abandon your daughter now? Isn’t this the time for grace and love?”
“She’s having a child out of wedlock!” my mom protested, her voice rising.
“That shouldn’t matter, Claudia,” he replied firmly. “Remember when your husband passed? This congregation held you and Faith in love. Shouldn’t we do the same now?”
I watched as my mom’s face softened, and moments later, we were hugging in the middle of the church, both of us crying as the congregation looked on in quiet understanding. It felt like a weight had been lifted, and I knew that love was stronger than fear.
Days later, Mama insisted on meeting Glenn and his family. “No more secrets,” she said, straightening my collar like I was still her little girl. Glenn drove us to his house, looking nervous but ready. When we arrived, the door opened, and there stood Pastor James.
I couldn’t help but laugh when Glenn called him “Dad,” and the pastor looked between us in surprise before breaking into a big grin. “The Lord sure does work in mysterious ways,” he said, chuckling.
Looking back now, I can see that blessings often come in the scariest packages. And Mama? She’s already picking out baby names and knitting tiny booties. Just yesterday, she even mentioned, “You know, maybe it’s time I got out more. Mrs. Jones’ brother just moved to town…”
I never thought I’d find myself in such a whirlwind of emotions, but life has a funny way of surprising you. And through it all, I learned that love can heal even the deepest wounds. What do you think of the story?
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