Unworthy...

Beep, beep, beep. A blur of colored scrubs rushing around me. “Elizabeth, did you hear me? Your baby’s heart rate is dropping. We have to preform an emergency cesarean.” ‘No, I can’t lose another one, not again.’ That’s the scene I see every time I think of my son’s birth.

August 14, 2013 was a beautiful day for my family, an emotional one for me. I know most for most first time moms, they experience many emotions such as fear, excitement, anxiousness, but for most this is the happiest day of their lives. As for me, at 19, I was beating myself up for the loss of one child and fearing the one I was about to birth.

I got married at 18 years old to a man I barely knew who had a beautiful 3-year-old daughter of his own. We fell in love and got married one October day without warning to our families; they were not pleased to say the least.

When we found out I was pregnant two short months later he was so excited while I was terrified. I would have to tell him something I had been keeping to myself for four years. I was terrified of how he would react.

The day he asked me 'why aren’t you excited for this baby,' I just let it out expecting the worst. Here’s what I said.

I am excited, just afraid. There’s something you don’t know. When I was 15 I got raped at school. I didn’t know what to do. I was scared. I went home, showered, and slept until the next day. I didn’t go to school for a week. I couldn’t tell my mom. She was abusive for the smallest things. I didn’t feel safe.

Time went by and people started to notice I was different. I stopped eating, grades dropped, I wanted to die. I finally told my cousin about 3 weeks later, who made me go to the principal, who told the Spanish teacher, who called my mom, who beat me when I got home. There were cops, and people asking me to retell what happened in detail, people touching me, which was the last thing I wanted, but it was dismissed as a he said/she said case early that summer. I pretended it didn’t happen, which was working out great until I missed my period. I was stressed again. Terrified of telling my mom, wondering what was going to happen to us. I wasn’t ready to be a mom at 15, but I knew abortion wasn’t an option for me; adoption maybe, but I wasn’t sure I would survive it. All I knew is that I had someone else counting on me. My child gave me the will to live again.

School started again. I was at a new school trying to find my way around when I saw him from across the hall. I felt myself freeze. I was terrified he had seen me. I blinked and he was gone. I made it through the rest of the week without seeing him.

I woke up Friday morning; something felt off. I shook it off, got ready for school, and went on my way. I went home after class to watch my younger sisters as my mom worked weekend nights. While watching a movie I felt a sharp pain that didn’t got away; it just kept growing. I went to the bathroom and saw blood. I tried to forget what happened and for the most part I did, but that didn’t stop me from picturing the tiny blood-covered baby in the delivery room many years later. I had not told anyone about the baby at this point and I never got the chance.

My son was born August 14, 2013 at 4:47 PM. He was a beautiful boy. As I held him for the first time, something just didn’t feel right. Instead of happiness, excitement, and love, I felt anger, sadness, pain, but most of all, I felt unworthy. I was unworthy of being a mom...