The Choice

I always envisioned planning my wedding and baby shower as a joyous and momentous occasion. But as I sat in my perfectly painted bubblegum pink room, realizing the stress of planning them simultaneously, I began questioning my life decisions and how the color on the walls was my only sign of hope. I did not imagine being 21, pregnant, and forced to spend the rest of my life with a man who abuses me physically and mentally. Not to mention, my weight had skyrocketed well in the 200s, and any white dress would make me look like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

I tried to focus on our two-story home, beautifully decorated out front with sunflowers in the bushes, representing my marriage of adoration and longevity. I laughed as I felt it was more like a jail sentence than a partnership. It had to take place in the summer because the baby was coming, and I live in the Midwest. It is March and snowing. I had never been in love before, but maybe this was as good as it gets. Still, I could hardly wait to speak to Cetin to get his approval. I hope he likes sunflowers, as that could be a deal breaker. Who am I kidding? I am stuck with him now.

"What took you so long to get here?" Hearing my voice's octaves getting higher as I gripped my Sesame Street childhood security blanket, I decided to change the subject. I had brochures from A Beautiful Day Catering, Happy Ever After Wedding planners, and listings of houses on my kitchen table.

Cetin sauntered toward me and took a seat. Without warning, he said, "Katherine, maybe we should just go to City Hall, just you and me," he had said.

Biting my lip, I stepped back; he only used my full name when upset. The bruise on my wrist was starting to heal, and if I made Cetin mad, I didn't want to be close enough to allow him to bruise my face, especially if we were going to plan wedding photos. Shrugging my shoulders, I agreed with his idea—bye-bye, sunflowers. 

"What have your parents said about all of this?" I asked.

"They don't know yet," he replied.

"When do you plan on telling them when I am in the delivery room?"

"Very funny. I will call and speak to my mum later."

Regardless, I would make the most out of the City Hall plan. I recently cut my hair short so getting ready that morning took extra-long, but at least he can't use it anymore to hurt me. It was cold and wet, so I wore a cute beige corduroy jumper dress with dark brown tights and my pink Ugg boots Cetin bought me after he forgot my birthday. So many questions were going through my head, am I making the right choice? This is what love is supposed to be like, right? I had never felt so alone and confused. If only I could have a moment of clarity.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror as I put on the finishing touches of blush, lowered my eyebrows, took a deep breath, and thought of the little human I was growing inside me. My mom was adamant that the baby deserved a father and a mother. Sitting in my family's living room looking through old photo albums of her wedding and dress, I knew I never wanted something as extravagant as that, so a quaint wedding in my home was perfect. No matter what obstacles may arise, I would at least provide that. I focused my nervous excitement on imagining what Cetin would be wearing when he came to pick me up. His sense of style looks like something that stepped out of a GQ magazine. Not to mention his cologne, I always said a monkey could wear the Versace cologne, and I would fall in love with him.

He pulled up in his gold Honda Camry and laid on the horn. At first, I had thought how rude he should at least come to the door and walk his pregnant girlfriend through the snow and ice. But instead, I hurried out the door as I was too giddy to be angry. I was becoming a wife that day. Not exactly a traditional wedding dress or wedding, but I always did things my way, so why stop now? I opened the car door to him, wearing an old pair of beat-up jeans and a baseball cap. My eyes were wide open, and my jaw dropped as I didn't know he owned jeans or a baseball cap. I silently sat down, with my bottom lip quivering, going over our last conversation. We drove downtown in silence. When we arrived at the city hall building, we took number 337 and waited for about an hour before somebody called us. I accepted this as a promising sign, as numbers 3 and 7 are my lucky numbers. 

During the wait, there was dead silence. So, I asked, "Is everything okay?" 

Cetin looked down and shook his head yes. I looked down at the floor to see if I was missing something but just saw a black and white checkered pattern tile with slush and salt from people's tracks. Maybe it was me or my nervous jitters, but my stomach was doing somersaults. 

"Number 337, please see clerk # 2 down the hall," said a man on the speaker. His voice was so deep and smooth. I felt like it was an angel speaking to me. 

When explaining to clerk # 2 or, as her name tag read, Janice, I burst out with excitement, "we are here for a marriage license." She glanced at me and then at Cetin, who was still looking down and not making eye contact. She asked for the documents that included my birth certificate and Cetin's Visa, as he was currently on a student Visa. I watched him fumble and soon found out he had forgotten his Visa. My face was bright red as I apologized to Janice, expressing we would have to reschedule. I dreaded walking to the car alone with him as I knew I would get blamed somehow. 

We returned to the car as I thought we would make a quick trip to his apartment and try this getting married thing again. I pulled out my pocket calendar and asked what his school schedule looked like this semester so we could choose another date. 

Cetin yelled, "I can't marry you." 

I just sat staring straight ahead. I went to turn my head and puked all over his car. The ride was a blur, but I somehow made it out of the car and back to my doorstep. When I walked in the door, my mom took one look at me and knew. I retreated to my bedroom, not ready to talk about what would happen next. Instead, I started rearranging my room for a deep clean. I am a nervous cleaner, and it settles me. I heard a knock on my door.

"Can I come in?" I heard my mom ask.

"Sure."

Looking at my mom was like looking at an older version of me. Except she had wavy brown hair, and mine was, as she called it, perfect 'wash and go' straight blonde hair. Her face was smiling, but her eyes gave her away. Dee's style was so simple but elegant. Her flannel button-down LL Bean had a lace undershirt to show her feminine side. Her jeans were neatly pressed, and her hair was parted on the right side and tucked behind her ear. Her cypress woods scent comforted me. Neither of us was the hugging type as we kidded that we are both tactile defensiveness, but today was different. I needed a hug from my momma.

As she wrapped her arms around me, she said, "Kat, I know you are not ready to hear this, but Cetin's mom reached out to me today. "

"Oh!" I pulled away. 

She continued, "Turns out his father gave him an ultimatum. He could either marry you or take over the family business after graduating. If he chose you, his family would cut him off financially, and the embassy would take away his scholarship and student visa."

Tears welled up in my eyes and began to stream down my face. I wailed so loud I scared myself. My mom wrapped her arms back around my shaking body. I wanted no part of love if that was what love felt like. I am unsure if I was sad as the man, I loved chose his family over me and our unborn baby or the grief I was undergoing, knowing I could not bring this baby into the world. I looked down at my bruises and knew it could only get worse, and I did not want a baby to have that kind of upbringing. 

I had plans to finish college and get out of this town. If I stayed and had the baby, I would be a permanent resident of Toledo, Ohio. Not only that, but the baby would have his last name. If I was already frightened to be alone with Cetin, how could I trust him with the baby? Hell, he already made it clear he wasn't staying here. Would he try and take my baby from me? I had regretted being forced to make this decision alone, but I had known I wanted more than this provincial life. 

It was a long night, so I made a classic pro and con list to help me make this life-altering decision. A man who beats me and could hurt my child put the cherry on top of my conclusion. As a girl who once prided herself on protection, I could not safely bring this child into the world. I was already afraid of his mood swings, and at this moment, the man I thought I knew and loved was a stranger. He had already proven that he would strike me at any moment, and I would never forgive myself if he harmed the baby. Many will view me as a baby killer, but someday, I will realize this was for the best. At least, that was what I wrote over and over in the pros list. 

I remembered waking up the next day nauseous, thinking, Is this a sign? Did I make the wrong choice? I started walking down the hall when I felt shaky, and my stomach was eroding. I barely reached the bathroom when I started projectile vomiting in the toilet. When I finished, I went back to my room and called Planned Parenthood. As soon as the woman answered, I quickly started talking before anyone in my house heard.

"Hi, umm, my name is Kat Wallace; I have an .... hold on, I'll call ya back....."

I dashed down the hall but didn't make it this time, and I wretched all over the carpet by the stairwell. My mom heard it and came out to see the commotion. 

I was sobbing, cleaning up my vomit, shouting, "I can't have an abortion. It is a sign," 

My mom got a wet towel, blotted the vomit out of the carpet, and said, "Vomiting in the hallway is a sign?" 

I realized how insane I sounded, but I still couldn't shake the feeling I would be making a mistake. We went downstairs, and my mom sat me at the kitchen table and got me crackers and a Sprite. The deep vertical lines in her forehead and the corners of her mouth gave her away. Once my stomach settled, I casually asked her if it was ever okay for a man to hit a woman. Her eyes widened, and I could tell she wanted to say more, but he just shook her head. 

A week later, I was living my worst hell. Nurse Barb entered the room and explained they would begin with an ultrasound and explained the procedure. I was dazed and barely listened. I focused on the color of her teal scrubs. They had little silver moons and glittery gold stars on them. I wondered if she had to alter them as she was about five feet and very tiny, she looked close to my age, and her demeanor was like an old friend was explaining things to me. Her hair was golden blonde, tied back in a sloppy ponytail and the bags under her eyes told me we got about the same amount of sleep. The only thing that helped me keep my composure was the smell of cleaning products. Lysol and other disinfectants had always calmed me.

Focusing on the drip from the IV, I clenched my right fist so tight, digging my fingernails into my palm. I wish my grandma were here to hold my hand. She would know the exact thing to say to make me feel better. But my father and his siblings put her in a nursing home and took away my best friend. Everything could be settled at gram's kitchen table with a pack of Oreo's and a can of Coca-Cola.

But here lies I, Kat Wallace, 200-plus pounds body stuffed like a pig into a hideous blue and white hospital gown. No cookies, no coke, and certainly no Gram. I guess one size fits all meant all except me. I frowned in the mirror at my bad boyish bowl haircut on the back of the closed door, screaming at the stranger's reflection.

"Who are you?"

Not precisely the 21st birthday I envisioned. Looking down at my hands, I noticed brown smudges on my fingertips where I had wiped off the eye pencil I used to cover up the fact I had pulled out mostly all of my eyebrows. Gram wouldn't have cared what I looked like; she would have taken out her rosary, taken me by the hand, and we would have prayed. But her strokes took away her speech and eventually took her away from me. I needed to stay strong and get this over with before someone had me put away too!

My mom, Dee, muttered something to me, but my body had already gone into the non-process zone. I was verging on the point of no return. She also assured me I could change my mind at any type before the process. Barb explained they would use suction and medical tools to empty my uterus. After, I would feel slight cramping, like a bad period. Nurse Barb asked if I had any questions, but I could only hold back the tears. I wanted a pillow to scream; instead, I politely said no. I looked down at my security blanket in knots and shredded from being washed too much. I felt it was appropriate as I also thought I had been through the rinse cycle too many times and came out a hot mess. 

I looked out the window into the fluffy marshmallow-like clouds and prayed. It was the only thing I had control of at this point, as I felt hopeless and out of control but somehow, saying the Hail Mary out loud calmed me. I wasn't afraid of the procedure's pain but the pain it would cause in my soul. 

I was hooked up to an oxygen monitor, and my right arm had a blood pressure cuff wrapped around my arm for a procedure. Nurse Barb entered back in, checked my stats took my hand, and said, "you are up next kiddo." I nodded my head and asked for a few moments of privacy. She told me she would be out in the hallway when I was ready so to hit the call button.

Looking out into the clouds again, I saw one shaped like a heart. I wasn't sure if this meant God was sending love to me or if I had no heart for what I was about to do. Gram always said she felt better after praying, so I tried her approach. 

"God! It's me, Kat. I know you are busy, but I need strength to overcome this. Maybe send me a sign?"

Something didn't feel right, so I ripped the oxygen out of my nose, yanked the blood pressure cuff off, and went for the IV when my mom walked in. She walked over to me slowly. 

"Kat, what are you doing," she said as she slowly approached me.

"I can't do this; this is wrong. And the clouds with the hearts, God is furious."

I sat on the ground sobbing. I fell to the floor and looked up at my mom.

"I have shielded you, but you have the strength God gave you to survive."

"I lost everything," I replied.

"God is your everything. Focus on thanking him for what you do have."

Somehow everything she was saying made sense. I glanced out the window again and saw the sun peeking through the clouds. The tiny ounce of sunlight that touched my face soothed me, and at that moment, I felt confident about my decision. 

Everything seemed to go at light speed from that point, and before I knew it, I was ushered to the car through a line of women holding picket signs and screaming obscenities in my face. I was tired and medicated, so it didn't affect me much. I just wanted to go home, crawl into my bed, and compartmentalize that memory to deal with later.

I didn't know what would come from this; however, I was raised Catholic and recognized the church frowned upon abortion. I became so enraged, thinking this was my choice, my body. I should have sought professional help as it was challenging to handle. Cetin had vanished, and I didn't know how to express my feelings to my mother. I closed myself off emotionally from the world, afraid to tell anyone what happened. I felt like a killer and didn't think I would forgive myself.