THE POSSIBILITY OF BABIES CAN REALLY RUIN A GOOD TIME
Folashade Alford, Union Staffer
Illustration by Nichole Daniels
“Your kids will have some bushy ass eyebrows.” Last spring this comment came from AJ as we discussed with Devon, MC, and the “gay-bors” that bomb pop guy I was sexing (see summer issue). I think I laughed and replied with a sassy “fuck no.” Aside from an STD, getting pregnant would ruin my life. It’s not that I don’t like kids, I love them. I’ve dedicated summers to making kids squeal with laughter and soothing tears from scraped knees. I even hope to have some of my own one day, but that day is not today or any day soon. Well, that was a truth I had believed.
Before I started having sex I dreaded the onslaught of PMS that would be followed by cramps, bleeding, and cravings of French fries, burritos, and lo mein combined. Now I welcome my period. For me it is a reminder that I’m not pregnant and continue to beat the stereotype of becoming another young black girl with a “baby daddy,” like seriously it makes me wanna hi-five my vagina. So I’ve taken no chances and used condoms every time and would rather call it a night than give up this thin veil of protection.
Things were going according to plan till I woke up in the New Year realizing it had been a while since I went on a Rom Com and ice cream binge. That’s when my brain started calculating, it can’t have been 2 months. Then I dredged up past events. The beginning of December in what I can only call an inevitable lapse in judgment, I slept with the aforementioned guy again and it was amazing, cuddly, and maybe even cute. Even though I couldn’t stop smiling days later I decided that had to be the last time. I was so concerned with moving on (this included lying to the guy saying a friend changed my contacts and he was now unknown to me) that I didn’t realize I was in deep shit till January. That’s when I let the thought cross my mind, I’m pregnant. I kinda laughed in my head. Then this thought became obsession, I texted a friend (THANKS FOR TEXTING ME BACK MC) and I scoured the internet for pregnancy signs and wives tales. I poured over symptoms and even took a quiz. I got a 17%, but my brain didn’t care it just whispered you still might be pregnant. Then I started to think about how I absolutely could not have a baby right now. I can hardly take care of myself. Oh and fucking child support, custody and all that bullshit. Then I thought, so be it, I’m pregnant, I’m getting an abortion. I made a list of possible abortion buddies who would drive me to and from the clinic. Who I might let into the room with me to hold my hand or who would hug me after.
Then the sane (small but present) part of me came to the forefront of all my thoughts and said, “Folashade. Calm the fuck down. You don’t even know if you’re pregnant.” Then I was like hey, I’m right, these scenarios are all ridiculous without anything to base it on. So I decided I was gonna take a pregnancy test. I ordered it from my doctor and it took me a week to actually pee in the god damn cup but I did it. The results would be posted later that day and I told myself you don’t get to react till you know. If you’re not pregnant then you’re just a crazy bitch, and if you are pregnant with his baby we can cry. So midday rolled around and I finally got the courage (and remembered my password) to log into my Kaiser account to look at my lab results. After staring at the word negative I was still confused. They tested me for HCG, what the hell is that? Why couldn’t it just say “bitch you pregnant” or “fuck yes we beat the statistics.” It turns out it’s a hormone you produce when pregnant, so that meant I was not with child. I finally sighed and thanked the gods, I even thought about showing gratitude at the closest weirwood, but I just laughed at myself and went about my day.
So what was the point of this story besides telling you I’m insane and temporarily scaring the shit out of that guy? (Sorry Chris.) Basically sometimes we just need to chill the fuck out and it’s hard. Your emotions and your imagination get in the way, but that’s wasted energy you could be using to actually figure out what’s going on. So before you start freaking out over that missed period, weird pee color, or mysterious bump you don’t remember being on your ball sack, take a breath and find your bearings. Whatever happens, the only thing you can do is move on from there, one step at a time.
