– Staring At My Shoes –
“Okay, the doors now shut. I’m home. I’m pregnant. Now what,” I, the most nervous nineteen year old in the world, asked myself. I walked into my home, having found out a few hours before that I was pregnant. There I was, facing the fact I had to tell my parents.
What made it the hardest reason to tell them, or really anyone, was because the year before I shared with them how God had graciously called me one of His chosen; a Christian. But it’s one of those situations where I was then the only one in that home who even understood what that was all about. Don’t get me wrong. My family didn’t shrug me away when I told them I was a newly saved follower of Christ. Far from it. I just felt I had to be a bit on guard in what ever I said or did in that home that year. Needing to tell them I messed up and was pregnant was obviously something I didn’t look forward doing.
Now standing inside, having just prayed outside that door before coming in, I continued wondering what to do as I started hearing my parents talking in the kitchen down the hall.
Should I tell them now or wait? I should just get it over with. Okay. I can do this. I hear them in the kitchen. I guess I’ll just walk down the hall and tell them.
A few steps I went, but the stairs up to my room right there were sure tempting.
Stay to the right, go to the kitchen, and tell Mom and Dad. But no, my nervousness won and I went to the left and started walking up.
Half way up I stopped. NO! Just tell them. TELL them. I then turned around and went back down. Slowly I took a sharp left, went a few more steps and there I was. The shoes I had on I can picture because, as I walked in I was looking down, staring at those shoes. If I didn’t have that comfort inside of knowing God’s Fatherly arm was over my shoulder as I walked in, I don’t know how I could have survived the shame I felt.
Now sure, I’d love to get into detail about what happened in that kitchen, but that is all shared in my book. I will say, however, that I began loving my parents and siblings even more after they learned what I was now facing. Being as I was not the only one of my siblings this had happened to, mind you, explains why my parents weren’t ignorant to this type ordeal. However, my family responded as if I was the only one on earth they cared for and loved. And on that day, I sure needed that.
To be continued.
Click HERE to read how this entire story began.
Marianne Petersen is a former volunteer at a local pregnancy help organization and is actively involved in her local pro-life community. She is also a member of Northwest Christian Writers Association and author of a forthcoming memoir, God and My Pillow. You can follow Marianne on Twitter at @marimemoirs and read more at her blog, marimemoirs.com.