Bulletproof

by Maci Bookout

  There had to be something wrong with Taylor. There had to be something I was missing, some catch. I kept waiting for the “uh-oh” moment, looking for the red flags, expecting to glimpse his dark side. But each day he just kept proving that he was exactly who he was. His warmth, wit, and calm just kept making my life better. It wasn’t just that the way he treated me and Bentley was up to my standards. It was that he lived by his own standards. I didn’t have to convince him to be caring, or helpful, or responsible. He was already like that when I found him, because that was the kind of person he was working to be.

  In my other relationships, I was always struggling to pull the situation up to the level I believed I deserved. I had been raised to know my worth and to believe in a relationship defined by warmth, affection, and mutual respect. So that was the only kind of relationship I was ever prepared to accept. And with the others, when things got bad and I’d sit there alone at night pondering the state of the union, one of the first things I’d ask myself was “Why are you still here? Why aren’t you leaving?” I was always checking in with myself to make sure I remembered that I could leave if I wanted to, and that I would find a healthier partnership with a man who came closer to meeting the minimum standard of respect and responsibility that I believed in.

  I found that, and something even more profound. Or maybe I just didn’t know what it would feel like to be in the relationship I’d imagined for so long. Either way, it spun me around to realize I’d started checking myself to make sure I was meeting those standards. It was like I’d been trying to play ball with people who couldn’t throw the ball back and didn’t care to figure it out. For years I’d been on the field, throwing ball after ball, and never getting it back. No matter how ready I was to play or how easy I tried to make the game, the other players were more content to kick the dirt around the field or go sit on the bench pretending nobody ever told them the rules. So for seven years I got used to just practicing my moves and waiting for a chance to play a decent game.

  Well, Taylor had arrived, and the game was on. Suddenly I had someone in the batter’s box who was excited to be there, ready to play and eager to hit it out of the park. Finally I got to pitch and catch and show off my best moves with someone who kept me on my toes. Best of all, when I looked across the field, I found him grinning at me like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

  Taylor’s calm, kind reaction to my potential fertility issues left me reassured that our future wouldn’t be threatened by that possibility. Everything was still okay. For the time being, I was on birth control. But since we were both clear on the fact that we’d love to bring another child into the picture someday if it were possible, I decided to get a better idea of what the status is. I was still young, but I wasn’t getting any younger, and my basic understanding of fertility told me that the timeframe all women have to be aware of was probably different for people with PCOS. I wanted to be sure I understood the outlook.

  So I got a reference for a fertility specialist and went in to ask for a full report. “How many eggs am I creating? How good are my chances? Give me the rundown.” The specialist listened to my concerns, checked me out, and then sat me down to give it to me straight.

  “You might as well go off birth control,” she said, “because you’re not creating any eggs.”

  It was a little shocking to hear. Obviously, I knew my PCOS came with issues, some of which were already very apparent. PCOS is related to hormonal imbalances. My body didn’t make enough estrogen for ovulation, which was basically the root of my symptoms. But despite never having had regular periods, despite the fact that I hadn’t been ovulating properly at the time, I’d gotten pregnant so quickly at sixteen that it seemed counterintuitive to question my fertility. The doctor I’d spoken to years before had seemed to agree, which was why I hadn’t worried much about it since. When I told Taylor I might not be able to have more kids, I was more concerned with being honest and open with him about anything that could potentially affect our future. But it hadn’t seemed pressing or probable enough for me to be anxious about it.

  The doctor was very matter of fact. She told me that the outlook could change in the future, depending on what my body decided to do. But for now, my body just wasn’t stocking the right ingredients for a pregnancy.

  Taylor and I sat down and talked it over. We took as calm and realistic an approach as possible, and in the end, we came to two conclusions. First, there was no need for me to stay on birth control, because my body was being its own birth control. And second, if there was only a slim chance that we would ever be able to have kids together, we didn’t want to stand in the way. We knew we wanted to get married. We knew we were in it for the long haul. And we knew as well as anyone that conceiving usually gets harder with age, not easier. And while I knew that birth control doesn’t usually hurt fertility long term, I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of messing with my already challenged hormones if I didn’t have to. If we couldn’t get pregnant five years down the line, we wouldn’t want to look back and wonder if staying on birth control had anything to do with it.

  So, we decided I’d stop taking birth control and see how the situation developed. In August, I went in for a normal checkup and found out that my blood work still didn’t look promising. My white count was low, and my hormone levels were still completely out of whack. The signs seemed clear. My body was a No Pregnancy Zone. It was unsettling to hear such a bleak fertility forecast, but I tried to put it out of my mind. It wasn’t like Taylor and I were desperate for a baby right at that moment. And if the outlook didn’t improve and we got to feeling like we couldn’t wait, we’d already decided we would be one hundred percent happy adopting a child. Whatever happened, it would be okay. So we just went with the flow.

  One night we were hanging out, watching the Cowboys and drinking beer when I started to have these weird symptoms. My legs were getting tingly and itchy for no apparent reason, and my breasts felt tender. The tenderness in particular caught my attention. I mentioned it to Taylor and said, “Maybe I should take a pregnancy test, just in case.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” he said. We were having another easygoing day. This barely made a ripple. When the game was over we got in the car with Bentley and swung by the store to pick up a pregnancy test, just as nonchalant as could be.

  The line was faint, but the result was clear. I was pregnant.

  We were completely shocked. We’d already given up on the possibility. I didn’t even believe it until we went to the doctor to confirm it. She was just as shocked as we were, considering she’d been the one to tell us it wasn’t likely to happen. Fortunately for her, we were absolutely pumped. Taylor was ready to fly around the moon, and I couldn’t stop thinking, “This is amazing.” I couldn’t believe my body had come through and pulled off this miracle when I’d just about been ready to give up on it.

  Of course, it also entered my mind right away that I’d spent the last seven years trying to get people away from unplanned pregnancy. So on that front I thought, “Shit. How am I going to handle this one?” But that wasn’t nearly big enough of a problem to dampen the happiness, gratitude, and awe I felt.

  It had been a long time since I was just a scared sixteen-year-old with no idea what to do and no partner to help me. Now I was a confident mom with an education, a career, and a partner who wanted to build a life with me — and understood what that meant. In fact, when I looked around at all the things that were different this time, it hit me that I’d made it to the other side of the mountain. Everything was different. It was warm and bright and full of hope, and the people I found there were strong, happy, and excited to be by my side.

  I could barely believe I’d gotten to this place. I didn’t have to be bulletproof anymore. Finally, I could just be Maci.

  CHAPTER 24:

  CALM SUMMER SKIES

  At first, Bentley didn’t believe I was pregnant. At all. Since I wasn’t showing, he was very skeptical of the whole thing. But once he realized we wer
en’t trying to trick him, he got excited and started sharing all his thoughts on being a big brother. Some days he wanted a brother, some days he wanted a sister, and some days he didn’t care either way. We made a fun surprise out of telling him the baby’s sex by having him cut into a cake full of pink frosting. Unfortunately, he happened to be in the mood for a brother that day. “Oh, man,” he groaned when he saw the color. “A sister?” But once he got over the disappointment, he got on board and got excited.

  I was excited for my pregnancy, especially for the ways it felt pleasantly different from the first time around. All the fear of what lay ahead was replaced by excitement. All the embarrassment was replaced by pride. All the concern from the people around me was replaced by celebration. I wasn’t a “teen mom” this time. I was a grown woman and a confident parent. In a way, it felt like I was allowed to enjoy the experience in a way that hadn’t been encouraged before.

  And I was excited to have a family to share that enjoyment with me. It was nice to know that Bentley was old enough to do lots of things for himself and that he’d be a real part of my parenting experience, along with Taylor. I wasn’t going back to those long, lonely nights when I’d sat in front of the TV feeling cut off from the rest of the world. It was difficult to believe that had ever been the case. When I looked back on it, I just had to shake my head at how far removed that reality was from what I’d achieved since then.

  Taylor and I went on the hunt for a new house that would be big enough for me, him, Bentley, and Baby Number Two. It didn’t take us long to find a place we liked, which was a relief, because we wanted to be settled by the time the baby came. We spent a weekend running around with realtors, and by the end we settled on a place that had everything we wanted and didn’t need much work.

  We made the move in April, with a couple of months of my third trimester to spare. The baby was due on June 12, so it was perfect timing. I was in the stage of pregnancy when my brain was going into nesting mode and all I wanted to do was clean and organize. This time around, I knew better than to stress myself out trying to get it all furnished and polished in two days, so I took it easy and just had fun preparing for my daughter.

  Taylor and I wanted to be married, but we weren’t about to rush it just because of the pregnancy. We wanted to focus on the pregnancy without the distraction of an engagement announcement and a wedding on the horizon. All that excitement could wait its turn. For now, we didn’t want to cloud the experience and enjoyment of our first child together with any unnecessary extras. We figured we could tackle the wedding once we’d gotten the hang of parenting a newborn. In the meantime, the baby would have Taylor’s last name.

  We tossed a few names around before we settled on the right one. At first nothing was really sticking in our minds, but we kept going back to Jayde as a middle name. Eventually we realized, “If we like Jayde so much, why not make that the first name and look for a different middle name?”

  We had also loved the name June, but since she was due in June, it seemed a little corny. But whenever I thought of it, I started thinking of June Carter Cash. So once I started trying to find something to go with Jayde, it popped back into my head. And there we had it: Jayde Carter.

  Jayde Carter McKinney.

  ***

  It was Bentley’s first day of kindergarten. The whole school gathered in the cafeteria along with the teachers and parents, and then we all headed for the classrooms. I stayed with Bentley as the teacher explained a few basics, showed everyone where to hang up their things, and helped them find their seats. The parents were in there for about ten minutes as the kids settled in, and it was all fun and exciting until the teacher said, “Okay, time to tell your parents goodbye.”

  The look on Bentley’s face was like a punch in the chest. The message in his eyes was loud and clear: Mom, what are you doing to me? You cannot leave me here with this strange woman and these weird kids. This is not okay.

  Everyone warned me that this would be an emotional event, but I hadn’t taken it too seriously. It was a big day, but I figured I’d survive in the usual fashion and be able to keep it together. I felt like I’d already been through it with preschool and daycare, and I was used to him being away for awhile every day. But they were right. This was bigger, and it was different, and I knew it the moment I saw that face. All of a sudden, I felt a huge wave of emotion rising up inside of me. It was unlike anything I’d ever felt. And right away, I knew I was going to lose it.

  I managed to keep it together for as long as I was in the classroom, knowing it would only make him more upset to see me losing my cool. But as soon as I stepped out those doors, I fell apart. I made it outside, got in my car, and lost my damn mind.

  I didn’t even know why, exactly, I was crying. It just felt like I was drowning in emotion. Maybe it was the fact that he was in a real school where he’d be walking around right alongside the fifth graders, complete with a backpack full of books and an actual teacher. It wasn’t like preschool or daycare. He wasn’t just being babysat anymore, and you can’t just skip kindergarten whenever you want. From now on, if I got a day off of work or we wanted to go on vacation, I couldn’t just keep him to myself on a whim.

  Bentley had just taken his first big step toward becoming an independent person. It was a whole new chapter for him. I couldn’t have imagined how overwhelming it would be to witness that moment. The emotional reality was so intense it just swallowed me up. I sobbed all the way home. I hadn’t cried so hard since the day I moved out of my parents house to live with Ryan. This was different. It wasn’t fear or uncertainty that had me crying. This was a purer, more bittersweet mix of pride, joy, loss, worry, and excitement.

  It was a new beginning for Bentley. And it was a new era for me, too. New beginnings were on the way for all of us. It felt like a tidal wave of change sweeping over me, leaving me with a new sense of past, present and future. I couldn’t define each detail, but I felt the impact in my bones.

  Once I got myself under control, I spent the day worrying about how he was liking kindergarten, if he was having fun, if he was bored, what he was doing. When I finally picked him up and asked how his day was, he said, “Kindergarten was even better than you told me it was gonna be.”

  Bentley took to school right away, except for the part where he has to wake up in the morning. His favorite subject turned out to be math, which blew my mind, because I’ve always been terrible with math and hated it with every bone in my body. But he’s a smart kid. He takes his interests seriously and likes to excel at what he does. I don’t remember being half as competitive as he is with baseball. But he’s an easygoing kind of dude, too. He’s not the type to run around talking to everyone in his class, but he opens up quickly when he senses someone shares his interests.

  Sometimes I can see that he’s got a bit of my loner streak. I’ll ask him how his day is and he’ll say, “It was good, but some of these kids get on my nerves.” He gets frustrated when he wants to be alone and can’t escape the company. But he fits in well, and he’s popular with his teachers, which was a major concern of mine. I told him he could be a brat at home when he needs to as long as he keeps being an angel at school. It was an ego boost and a relief one day when I was dropping him off in the morning and a teacher stopped to tell me she thought the world of Bentley. She told me, “You’re doing such a good job.”

  Thank God!

  ***

  MTV was back on the scene for one last series following me and my original Teen Mom cast mates. Having the cameras around during my second pregnancy was a funny reminder of how much things had changed in the seven years since I’d first appeared on 16 & Pregnant. That wasn’t just true for me. When I looked around at the other girls and where their journeys had brought them, I got goosebumps. I knew each one of them had been down to the deepest, darkest depths of fear and uncertainty. I knew there had been a time for every one of them when they doubted they’d ever be okay. And I knew they’d pushed, dragged, crawled, and fought
their way through those tunnels even when they couldn’t see the lights at the other end.

  It was awe-inspiring to look around at my fellow Teen Moms and see a group of real life adults with beautiful, healthy kids and big hopes for the future. Between the four of us, we’d weathered millions of doubts and judgments. Some of us definitely got rained on harder than others. But there we were, seven years later, blowing even our own expectations out of the water. When I looked around at what we’d survived and the strong, capable people we’d become, my heart just swelled with pride and respect. The Teen Moms had made it.

  What I learned through my experiences with MTV, and what I taught myself along the way, helped me get a job as a social media marketing specialist. I absolutely loved it. It was something I could see myself doing just about anywhere. The world of social media is changing all the time, and it’s a challenge to keep up with what’s relevant. You’re constantly studying and analyzing how people spend time online and where brands stand the best chance of making money. There’s a ton of tracking and analytics that you have to do to be able to prove to your boss that the brands are getting something out of social media. I never pictured myself as an eight to five, sit at your desk all day type of person, and if anyone had asked me two years before if I saw myself in a job like that, I’d tell them they were insane. But it turned out to be really engaging work for me, different and dynamic every day.

  With just a few months left before Jayde Carter’s arrival, I finally graduated from Chattanooga State Community College with my media technology degree, along with a minor in creative writing. Five years of going back and forth, juggling those classes and reminding myself that “Mom did it” had finally paid off, and not a moment too soon.