Episode 17

...BELINDA CLINTON...

Neither the nurse nor the doctor spoke, and I was more than frightened, imagining a disease like cancer or something, believing they looked at me with pity for not knowing how to tell me I was dying.

I knew that all the beatings and abuses, plus the stress of eating, would cause me something but I never thought it would be this serious. I regretted not being able to escape sooner and I was filled with sadness knowing that my time in the world was ending. I felt my tears falling on their own without even being able to control them. It was unfair that the one who hurt me so much continued to live while I, at such a young age, was sentenced.

"Miss Clinton, you are pregnant," the doctor's comment made me forget even how to breathe. Pregnant, me? No, that couldn't be true.

"N-no... no... it can't be," my voice came out distorted, unrecognizable, strange due to the shock. I had gone from imagining terminal cancer to a pregnancy.

"The tests confirmed it, Miss. I'm sorry it's not the news you were expecting," the doctor continued to speak and I didn't even know what to think about it.

I didn't want to be a mother, not like this, not now. I foolishly believed that to bring a child into the world one must follow certain guidelines, have a solid job, education, a home of one's own, a partner—married or not—but stability in the most important aspects.

What did I have to offer a child? I had no university degree or a steady job, much less a home. It may sound bad, but Mrs. Marta didn't have much life left, and when she passed on, I would be left destitute with a baby in my care that would surely come into my life to suffer.

Nor did I wish to have a child from that monster who had harmed me so much without reason. How could I carry in my womb a child that would bind me to him for life? But on the other hand, it was also my blood; I couldn't simply tear it from my womb just because.

As I sobbed inconsolably, the nurse stepped out of the office and the doctor again lifted up my blouse and now also unbuttoned my pants.

"Girl, you can handle this, a child makes us stronger," Mrs. Marta's voice made me look at her, having forgotten she was there with me.

"How will I do it? What can I offer? And besides, its father..." I cried again with force.

"It won't be easy, but you can handle this. You're young and strong. You'll see, God will help you get ahead," she spoke again trying to give me hope.

"God wasn't there for me before, please don't bring him into this now," I questioned. Did God even exist? Where was he when I was suffering? I was a good person, so why had he allowed all this to happen to me?

I was offended by everyone, by God and the universe. Now I didn't know what to do, and the months were ticking by to make decisions that would change my life completely. What if I made another mistake? Is this how my mother felt when she abandoned me? Was I also a product of abuse? I even thought about things I had never considered before.

I felt cold on my belly and saw that the doctor was applying something transparent.

He was performing an ultrasound, and I didn't even know what that was, much less what it was for, so he kindly explained everything to me. Something very small was growing inside me.

I thought about the day it was conceived, and I felt such disgust that I vomited on the floor. I had to lean over the examination table to expel it all.

This God they talked so much about was giving me far too difficult tests and I did not believe myself capable of overcoming them.

We went back to Mrs. Marta's house where I did all my chores. I cried for days. It was very hard to assimilate everything that was happening, and I didn't expect it to be overnight, but neither had I expected a test of such magnitude just as I began to see a better future for myself.

I thought about adoption; maybe my baby could have a good home, parents. Someone could give it what I couldn't, but my heart also shrank in pain at the thought of what this baby would think of me for having been given up for adoption.

I considered keeping it. The state provided assistance and there were free nurseries for single mothers who needed to work; maybe not everything was lost for me. What I was most decided on was that if I had a daughter, I would protect her so that she would never fall into the claws of a bastard like her father, and if I had a son, I would teach him to respect women and the equality we have as people. We should not be treated as employees or considered as objects, nor inferior just because we are women.

It was only when I began to see my baby as a companion for my lonely life that I made peace with God. I could have lost my pregnancy under the circumstances I left, but I didn't. If I had miraculously overcome all of this, it was because my baby was a fighter for life and had as much or more will to live as I did.