Silent Cry (14 page)

It felt good to talk to Mom. She was so understanding, and I knew she would be there
for me and love me, no matter what. “Dorothy,” she said, “you be smart about this.
Don't settle. No matter what happens, don't you get rid of that baby. If Nate doesn't
want it, we'll take it. Don't you even think about getting an abortion. That isn't
a solution.”

Her words struck me. I wasn't even aware I had considered the possibility of aborting,
but her strong warning suddenly shook me. In the back of my mind, I had played with
the idea that abortion might be a way out. Of course it wasn't!

There was no way I was going to deal with one sin by committing another. Just like
that, my mind was resolved. I would not abort. I would not give up my baby. It was
mine. Nate or no Nate, this baby was in my life for good. Something broke inside
me, and I was filled with overwhelming love for the life that was growing inside
me.

When I began telling friends about the baby, I was overwhelmed with love and support.
I didn't feel judged. I didn't feel an outcast. Instead, I felt genuine kindness,
and my heart was filled with hope.

I began reading about pregnancy and babies, learning everything I could. I carefully
calculated my savings and took a long look at my financial situation to make sure
I was prepared. It had been three weeks since I first told Nate the news, and the
excitement he demonstrated with the Martins had steadily
waned. This bothered me,
but I assumed he was just working through things in his mind.

He came by my apartment one night and was unusually quiet. “I know this isn't your
fault,” he began. “This is
our
problem.”

I looked at him cautiously, wondering where he was going with this.

“It's my responsibility. I want to take care of this. I've thought about it a lot
since you first told me you were pregnant.” He paused. I held my breath.

“I think you should get an abortion,” he said flatly. “I'll pay for it. I'll take
care of everything. I just don't think having a baby is the best thing for us right
now.”

Nate slowly exhaled. I could tell he had made up his mind. All I had to do was say
yes, and the problem would be solved. I sat in silence, wrestling with my emotions.
I thought I had settled this already.

Deep down inside, I was still struggling with how I had failed God. I was struggling
with shame and guilt. I was angry with myself for compromising. I was angry that
the birth control pills hadn't worked. I was angry that Nate wasn't treating me
the same anymore. He had grown cold — there was a meanness in him toward me that
I had never seen before, and it scared me. I didn't really want to have Nate's baby.
I wasn't even sure I wanted to have Nate anymore. I wavered.

“I'll think about it,” I said.

Nate looked at me and started to say something, but the look on my face must have
stopped him. “Fine,” he said. “Let me know when you make the appointment and I'll
take care of it.”

I got some literature and went to a clinic to ask about an abortion. I even made
an appointment, but I couldn't go in. I sat outside in the parking lot with the words
of the prophet
Jeremiah running through my head, “Before I formed you in the womb
I knew you” (Jeremiah 1:5 NKJV). God already knew this baby. This baby was already
his child. I just could
not
make another bad choice. No. I was not going to give
this baby up just to make my life less complicated. The child had done nothing to
deserve being erased. The child was innocent. The child had no choice, even if I
did. Abortion was not the answer. I drove away from the clinic and never gave abortion
another thought.

When Nate came by later that evening, I told him I was going to keep the baby. He
was very angry. He argued and cursed. He insulted me and made me feel selfish, but
he could not persuade me. I didn't care how angry he was. I didn't care if he left
me forever. My mind was made up. I told him he didn't need to worry about anything.
I had no expectations from him. The decision to keep the baby was mine. I would take
care of the baby. I would raise the baby. I would pay for the baby. I wanted nothing
from Nate Newton. He didn't need to worry about anything. He was free to go.

CHAPTER 15

Ultimatum

The one who loves the least, controls the relationship.

Robert Anthony

N
ate was not happy with my decision to keep the baby. He gave me an ultimatum: “Have
an
abortion,
or we're finished.”

I thought Nate truly loved me. He was the one who wanted to get married and live
happily ever after. How could he leave me over a baby — his own baby? It didn't make
any sense.

“I am keeping the baby,” I told him. “If you feel you need to go, then go.”

He told me he would try to stick around but would make no promises. I let out a long
sigh. If he left, he left. I had made up my mind, and there was absolutely nothing
Nate could say or do that would make me reconsider.

The lease on my apartment was coming to an end, and I was trying to position myself
financially to prepare for the baby. Nate didn't have his own place at the time.
He lived with friends, Thornton and Karen Chandler. They offered to let us both move
in with them until we could decide what we wanted to do. Nate persuaded me that this
was a good solution for our immediate future. He appealed to my practical side by
pointing out that this would save money until we figured things out. I was still
resigned to raising the baby on my own, so saving money in anticipation of the time
I'd have to take off work was the right card for Nate to play.

The Chandlers had a decent-sized home and were sincere in their desire to help us,
so I accepted. I put most items in storage, then moved my personal things in with
Nate at the Chandlers'
home. Things were cheerful for the first few days, and it
was nice not to feel alone, but after that, Nate was almost never around. He would
go away for days at a time and then show up with no explanation about where he had
been. Then he disappeared for nearly three months. He called occasionally when he
was in town for mini-camps, but he seemed uninterested in me or the baby. I was coming
to terms with the fact that I was going to have this baby on my own. I cried. I prayed.
I planned. I made a strict budget. I cried some more. It was a very dark time. Nate's
rejection hurt me deeply.

I grew increasingly uncomfortable staying with the Chandlers. Even though they were
always kind, I felt like an intruder. I was used to being independent. Nate was gone
more than he was around, and this embarrassed me. I felt like a burden — and I didn't
like the feeling. I didn't belong there with Nate's friends; I wasn't even sure I
belonged with Nate. I started thinking about leasing an apartment on my own again.

I called my family, and they promised their support every step of the way. Friends
from college and from church also came to see me and extended their love. These gestures
reminded me that God still loved me. He hadn't given up on me — and neither should
I give up on myself. Fortified by the love of family and friends, I decided to move
into a place by myself.

One afternoon, the phone rang. It was Nate. “When I come back from camp,” he said,
“I want to know what the sex of the baby is.”

“Why?” I asked. “What difference does that make?”

“Well, if it's a boy, then I'll try to work things out with you. If it's a girl,
then I don't want to have anything to do with you,” he said matter-of-factly.

I was horrified.
Was he serious?

I had no idea what the sex of the baby was, but I felt my heart hardening. “Well,
it's a girl,” I said coldly, “so I guess when you get back from camp, you can just
go on with your life, and I can go on with mine.”

I fell into a routine of work, doctor appointments, and restless sleep. I stopped
going to church. I was too ashamed to be pregnant and unmarried. It felt like anyone
who looked at me was judging me, and it added weight to my shame. But even then,
even in my doubts about the future, I was overwhelmed with love for this little child.
I read books about pregnancy and children, wanting to learn all I could about being
a good mother.

Football camp ended, and Nate called again. He wanted to know how I was doing and
what the baby's due date was. He told me that during camp he spent time in deep reflection
and had undergone a change of heart. There was compassion in his voice, and he seemed
genuinely concerned about how I was feeling and how I was getting along during the
pregnancy.

A few days later, Nate came to my apartment and apologized for his behavior and
for being selfish — thinking more of how the baby affected him than me. He told me
he was going to live up to his responsibilities and wanted us to raise the child
together.

“Dot,” he said, “I'm sorry, baby doll. I am truly sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.
I want to take care of you. I want to be with you. I want to take care of the baby.
Please forgive me.”

When I looked at him standing there, apologizing to me in earnest, my heart softened.
I searched his eyes, looking for some sign that he meant what he said.

“I am going to take care of you,” he said. “I will be here for you and the baby,”
he continued, “whether it's a boy or a girl.”

I stood there, stroking my stomach and wanting so badly to be loved and cared for.
I felt terribly alone. In my mind, I was already living in sin. My life was a chaotic
mess. I knew living with a man was wrong, but what difference could it make now?
I had already slept with him. I was pregnant with his child. Maybe letting him move
in and take care of me was a good idea after all. At least I wouldn't be alone anymore.

“Alright,” I said with a sigh.

Nate flashed his charismatic smile. “You'll see,” he said. “Things will work out
for us.” He pulled me into an embrace, and for just a moment I stiffened, then relaxed
and let him hold me. “I love you,” he said. I was tired. I needed someone to love
me, and Nate would do.

There was a shift in our relationship. By now I knew I was having a boy, but I didn't
want to tell Nate. I wanted to see if he really wanted to be with me, regardless
of the sex of the baby. He was calmer now. He had made the team again, and he wanted
to spend time with me. He was gentle again and more like the man I had fallen in
love with.
Did I only imagine the other things?
It seemed like I knew two completely
different people — one was kind, funny, and attentive; the other was self-centered,
brutish, and mean-spirited.
How could both of these be Nate?

Wherever we went together, Nate was relaxed and completely at ease. He seemed ready
to commit for the long term and genuinely excited to become a father. He was proud
of me and introduced me as his wife, even to the media. I didn't correct him, but
I didn't want to get married either. I wasn't sure how long the fair weather between
us was going to last. Some part of me didn't believe Nate would stay around forever.
I kept waiting for something to happen that would set off his anger and make him
disappear again. I did finally tell him that the baby was a boy, and this made him
very happy.

September came, and the days were beginning to shorten as the oppressive Texas heat
at last lifted. I was having frequent dizzy spells and had become anemic. My doctor
advised me to stop working. I was prepared. I had a good job and had always been
frugal. I had saved and planned and always lived within my means, so I was covered.
I didn't worry about things financially. Nate was around, but I didn't need him.
It was important for me to be able to provide for myself.