When I first saw my positive pregnancy test, I didn’t have a physical reaction. There was no smile and there were no tears. I just kind of stood there. I knew. I felt it. I called my cousins and my best friend, even waved my fresh test in my friend’s face. Ha! Gross, I know. When I got home, my mind began to race. What do I do? Can I even do the “mom thing”? How do I tell my mom? How do I tell his father? Can I afford a child? I stayed up until 3am in deep thought.
I finally mustered up the courage to tell his father. I definitely wasn’t prepared for what was to come but I wasn’t surprised by it either. I knew. I felt it. The next day I was awakened by a response that hit me like Sharkeisha and told me “it’s time to woman up.” Though, I was hurt, I instantly went into defense mode and responded with a , ” FUCK YOU! I DON’T NEED YOU” type of text. I wanted to be strong but deep inside I felt that I did, in fact, need him. How can I raise a child alone? I wanted a family. I wanted to be a mother who was married to my child’s father. I wanted the same last name, a mailbox with our family name on it, a white picket fence, a dog, a house; the works.. and he knew it. I just wanted to understand what I did to deserve this. I convinced myself that I was being punished for the “untraditional” way my child was created. I knew the consequences of unprotected sex, but I did it anyway. And in all honesty, at the moment, I really wasn’t concerned with the consequences. You never think that you’d end up in certain situations until you’re in them. For months I cried. As happy as I was to be blessed with the opportunity to have a child, I still found myself depressed. I envied my friends who had children AND a husband. I had to keep telling myself, “Bri, you should love your friends and be happy for them.” I did. I was. But in my moments of weakness I wondered how I could be happy for them when I wasn’t happy with myself. They have everything I wanted. I went from being the single friend with no degree, to the single MOM friend, with no degree. I hated it. I was even more frustrated with the fact that no one knew about my baby besides my family and friends. Not his mom, not his dad, not even his best friend. Why was my child a secret? Why was he being hidden? I needed understanding. I was so embarrassed. I didn’t want to be another stereotype. Then finally, one day, what I wanted seemed to be in my grasp; a family. After finding out that Kai was a boy, his father and I were back on track. At least I thought we were. He had put in my head the idea that we would build from this situation, be a family, raise our son together, and live happily ever after. Then he dipped… again. I was officially broken. I didn’t want to do this anymore. I had given up.
By my 7th month of pregnancy. I was over it. Over pregnancy, over my situation, over being unemployed. OVER IT! I prayed and cried. Cried and prayed. I just wanted to be in a better position than I was in. They say “It takes a village to raise a child.” THEY were correct. But not only does it take a village to raise a child, it takes a village to keep you lifted. I spent countless days on the phone with my sister crying about how I couldn’t do it on my own. She always had a way of making me feel so strong and so able. I confided in her. I knew that she would be there through it all. She prayed for me and she cried with me. Even though she didn’t always tell me what I wanted to hear, she told me what I needed to hear. By my baby shower, I felt so confident in my ability to be a bomb ass mother. My village had assured me that I would be. They loved me. They had my back. They supported me. They gave me every reason to fight and go on. A week after my shower my beautiful five pound, nine ounce baby was born. From the moment I heard his cry, I knew that being a kick ass mom was the only option. I still had the whole “I want a family” thing in my mind but I had to shift my focus to what was priority and that was Kai Michael McCoy.
Today, I can honestly say that after three months of being a mom, it gets easier to cope. It still makes me feel “some type of way” knowing that his father has only seen him twice and doesn’t seem to care. Some days are harder than others. It’s okay though. I am finding my strength in God, my son, and my family. They make me whole. I love my son more than anything. I’ve never felt a love like this in my life. I didn’t know this type of love even existed. His smile gives me life. He’s teaching me to love myself. He’s teaching me patience. He doesn’t even know how much he is changing me. I love seeing him grow. He’s “talking”, sitting up, and playing with friends. Not to toot my own horn but I’m becoming a kick ass mom. And you know the best part about it? I can do it on my own. Kai, we’re going to be just fine. Mommy has your back. I promise.