My name is Danny, and when I was 17, something happened to someone and me. I'm 22 now, but this experience has always weighed heavily on my mind and heart. Her name was Andrea; we had been dating for approximately 5 months when things started to go sour. I decided to break up with her, and I did. She was upset as was I but it seemed for the better. A few weeks after the breakup, during a bomb scare at school, she found me on the field. She said she had something really important to tell me so we walked away a little bit from everyone and started talking. She was tearing and having a hard time saying what she was thinking. I, at the time, assumed she was just going to say she wanted to get back together. However, the words that came out of her mouth truly froze me dead in the spot where I sat next to her. She searched my eyes for an answer to a question she hadn't asked. She'd told me she was pregnant. All I could mutter after a prolonged silence was that I needed time. I got up and walked away from her as she began to cry quite hard.
Weeks went by, and I still couldn't find it in myself to truly grasp the reality of the situation. Soon, there came murmurs that I was an ass**** who abandoned his girlfriend when she got pregnant. It wasn't true of course, however, in hindsight I cannot blame her for saying so to her friends. When we got in touch again, which was made doubly difficult by that point since she had assumed I didn't want anything to do with her. We spoke of adoption. Andrea herself was adopted, and we felt it was the best course for the child if it was to come into this world. We wanted to give the child the best life it could have, even if we couldn't provide that.
However, this did not come to be. Six months later, our baby had passed away. It was severely premature and as a result was still born. We didn't talk much after the baby passed. I don't think either of us knew what to say or do really. I'm sure it was easier for me at the time. I didn't have to go through the pain of that experience on a personal level. However, the psychological effects of this event still carry with me to this day. I only really want to bring a child onto this earth if I am fully prepared to accept and acknowledge the responsibility and care myself. I'm not there yet. I would love to be, but at this point in my life, I am not prepared to assume that role. If I had to, I would of course, but I wouldn't be the father I aspire to be. At least I don't imagine so, just because of the limitations that I would have. Life is so precious, a gift. My experience with Andrea only highlighted the frailty that life has.
I wasn't prepared for a teenage pregnancy, but neither was I for a stillborn.