5 years ago I got pregnant, as the final semester in college was coming to a close. It was with the guy I’d been with since I was 17, he’d proposed the previous Christmas.
I told him and a couple weeks later he was gone. He came from a rich family and they sent him off to some family elsewhere. The family members of his that I did know deleted and blocked me online and I had no way to contact him again, not even his friends at college knew, some of whom were my friends.
Word got out that I was pregnant and those same ‘friends’ all were saying it couldn’t have been his and that’s why he left. So I did the last thing I wanted to do, turn to my family, I loved them but they’re religious and getting pregnant without being married is something they view as being sacrilegious.
I was called all sorts of names. I got no help there and was told there was no place for me in that house. So there I was, 22 years old, pregnant, with a low paying job, I finished uni but continued working and without my fiance or family’s help, my meager salary wasn’t enough, I was homeless for awhile, slept in alleys and shelters, barely being able to feed myself.
I ended up having a miscarriage. I was broken. Somehow, I managed to pull myself together with the help of a friend who’d been away, she gave me a place to sleep and helped me get back on my feet. I’ve been working a good job for the past 3 years, I make a good sized paycheck and my university debt is almost paid off. I have some money saved up in my account and will be purchasing a place all for myself soon.
However, I’m pretty much a shell of who I used to be, it’s the same eat, work, swim, sleep repeat life for me.
Recently though, my ex-fiancé reappeared, through a message online telling me he was so sorry for leaving me and he panicked and would like to get to meet up some time. He says he knows what he did was the worst thing he could have possibly done but he’d like a 2nd chance to make it up to me. My parents and siblings have also reached out over the past few months, all expressing sorrow, regret and wanting to be in my life again and saying they want me in theirs. They weren’t there for me when my child & me needed a place to place to live, a place where we felt loved or even a little support…I got nothing.
But I’ve decided I’m not forgiving them. Not because of what they did to me, but what they did to my baby.
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