— Years ago, when only nineteen, I had to face the truth; I might be pregnant. Read more how a certain phone call opened the door to that rough road ahead.
As my last post shared, I had to find a place I wish I didn’t have to find; a place to get a pregnancy test. Because of my ignorant in how this gets done, and because I was scared to ask anyone, I found out on my own. But as I like to say, God helped.
My book, God and My Pillow, shares what I like to call a soap opera. Here is a part from the beginning, sharing more about that phone call I made when I was only nineteen.
I guess I’ll look under ‘Pregnancy Test.’ How about this larger typed name—Planned Parenthood. This sure wasn’t planned, but I guess I have to plan something.
That was the first one I noticed. After all, that’s what the bold wording is supposed to do, right? Make you notice. Well, it worked. I was so nervous pressing those numbers.
Ring, ring. – Ring, ring. – Ring, ring. – Ring, ring.
Hmmm. No answer. Darn it. I’ll try another one. Let’s see.
Flipping backwards a bit through the phone book I found another place:
Crisis Pregnancy Center.
I have to try this place. If I’m pregnant, then it sure will be a crisis for me.
Ring, ring. Ring, ring.
Oh, please. Oh, please be open! PLEASE be op…
“Hello. Crisis Pregnancy Center. How can I help you?”
Please tell me I’m not pregnant.
“Just seeing if you are open today. — Really? — Right now? Thank you.”
No one was around, thankfully, so I just checked my face one last time, grabbed my purse, and took off. Swiftly walking to my car, my mom was getting out of hers.
“Where are you going?” she asked while pulling out a grocery bag, “I just went to Alber…”
Hi, Mim. Sorry, gotta run.”
“When will you be ba…”
“Not sure. Bye.”
God, help me. Please, please help me.
I couldn’t decide if I wanted all the lights to be red and delay the test results for as long as possible or if I wanted them all green so I could just get it over with.