Silent Cry

by Dorothy J. Newton

  Later, I called Sheila, my college roommate and best friend, and asked to meet her. Even though we were both wrapped up in our separate lives, our bond was still close, and I knew I needed to tell her the news in person.

  “I’m pregnant,” I blurted out, not sure how else to begin. I knew Sheila wouldn’t judge me. She hugged me tightly and held me with such kindness. Her voice was tender. “Dot, I saw you drifting away. You were so in love that I didn’t want to interfere.”

  Tears rolled down my cheeks, I felt so ashamed. I was grateful for her friendship at this moment. Sharing my burden with her was such a relief. “What should I do?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.

  “Don’t worry,” she smiled, “we’re going to get through this.”

  After talking to Sheila, I knew I needed to call Bug, the mother hen in our little trio. At first she fussed at me. “I could see this coming. You haven’t been the same person since Nate. I tried to tell you” — and on and on she went. Then her voice softened, and her affection for me came shining through. “Everything is gonna be alright. Everything is gonna work out just fine. You’ll see.” We talked for quite some time, and I felt less alone. Now I just needed to tell Nate.

  I gathered my courage. It was clear to me that the people who loved me might be disappointed in me, but they would still love me. I was sure it would be the same with Nate.

  Nate and I had dinner plans to visit with our friends Lynn and Kelvin (K-Mart) Martin that Friday night, so I decided to tell Nate on Thursday. He came by the apartment as usual, and since I had been avoiding him for a few days, things were a little tense. We were usually together every day, so this break in the routine had left him wary.

  “What is wrong with you?” he asked.

  “Nathaniel,” I looked at him, hoping he would just guess the trouble so I wouldn’t have to actually say the words.

  He looked at me intently, sensing I was about to tell him something important. I could see the muscles in his neck tighten, and his face was a mixture of concern and frustration.

  “Nathaniel, I’m pregnant.”

  “You’re what?” he said. “You knew I didn’t want any kids!” he shouted.

  I stared at him in shock.

  “You knew what we were doing, Nathaniel Newton!” I answered, suddenly angry. “It wasn’t like I was trying to trap you or anything. Having a baby wasn’t part of my plan either.”

  We argued for some time, angry words spilling out from both of us until Nate walked out cursing and slammed the door behind him.

  I hadn’t been prepared for such an outburst of rage. I didn’t expect him to be overjoyed, but I never dreamed he would be so angry — and so angry with me.

  An hour passed. I sat alone, numb. My mind couldn’t seem to make two thoughts line up in a row. Random bits of information flooded my mind, but none of it made any sense. Then there was a knock at the door, and Nate had returned. He was still mad.

  “Why are you so upset?” I asked.

  “What about me?” was his response. “How do you think I feel?”

  I just stared back at him, not sure how to answer. He walked across the room, sat down, sighed deeply, and then told me he already had two children and didn’t want any more.

  I was stunned. I don’t know how long I sat there trying to take in this new information. Did I really even know this man at all?

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” I finally managed to ask.

  “What does it matter to you?” he said.

  I couldn’t believe that Nate had children out there somewhere. Who were they? Where did they live? Did he see them? Who was their mother? How old? Boys? Girls? I couldn’t stop the questions, but I didn’t voice a single one of them to Nate. I didn’t dare.

  I had taken most of the next day off from work, knowing I was going to tell Nate that night and somehow sensing it might not go well. This only increased his anger toward me.

  “Why didn’t you save the vacation day so we could take a trip?” he asked. Nate loved nothing more than road trips, and during the off-season he had more free time available than I did, so I had been using my vacation days for trips with Nate.

  “I thought this was important,” I answered, hurt that he was being so selfish.

  Nate responded with a barrage of insults and accusations, blaming me for the pregnancy. I answered with indignation, blaming him for his lies. The argument continued, escalating until Nate left again, hurling profanities as he slammed the door on his way out.

  The next morning I went into the office to go to a meeting. Nate showed up as I sat at my desk after the meeting had ended.

  “I thought you took the day off?” he said, accusation thick in his voice.

  “I just came in for a one-hour meeting,” I answered. “I’m getting ready to go now.” Nate nodded, and we walked out in silence. He had his arm lightly on my elbow and directed me toward his truck.

  “Get in,” he said while calmly opening the passenger door for me. I slid into my familiar place, closing my eyes and wishing I could make this nightmare end.

  Nate walked around to the driver’s side, opened the door, and climbed inside. He sat there quietly for a few moments, then reached over and took my hand. “We’ll work it out,” he said, his voice soft and low.

  I felt my muscles relax, and I let out a long sigh. This was the Nate I knew. I leaned over and melted into his embrace. It felt good to be held by him. I didn’t want to do this alone.

  We sat in the parking lot for a while, and Nate told me he still wanted to go to the Martins together that night. He wanted to tell them about the baby. This was encouraging to me. Maybe everything really would work out okay. Maybe Nate would be just fine about it after all.

  We went to dinner as planned. Lynn and K-Mart were good friends, and being with them felt natural. Nate told them the news, and I was surprised at how upbeat and nonchalant he sounded. Surprise, surprise! Lynn and K-Mart had news for us — they were expecting too! Suddenly it was a party! We learned that our due dates were very close together. Lynn and I had lots to talk about, and Nate seemed to be very excited about the prospect of having a baby. I was never so relieved!

  The next day, I decided it was time to call my family. There was no point in putting it off any longer. I called my mom first. “I knew you were pregnant, Dorothy,” she said. “I could tell the moment I saw you. I’ve been wondering when you were going to call.”

  It felt good to talk to Mom. She was so understanding, and I knew she would be there for me and love me, no matter what. “Dorothy,” she said, “you be smart about this. Don’t settle. No matter what happens, don’t you get rid of that baby. If Nate doesn’t want it, we’ll take it. Don’t you even think about getting an abortion. That isn’t a solution.”

  Her words struck me. I wasn’t even aware I had considered the possibility of aborting, but her strong warning suddenly shook me. In the back of my mind, I had played with the idea that abortion might be a way out. Of course it wasn’t!

  There was no way I was going to deal with one sin by committing another. Just like that, my mind was resolved. I would not abort. I would not give up my baby. It was mine. Nate or no Nate, this baby was in my life for good. Something broke inside me, and I was filled with overwhelming love for the life that was growing inside me.

  When I began telling friends about the baby, I was overwhelmed with love and support. I didn’t feel judged. I didn’t feel an outcast. Instead, I felt genuine kindness, and my heart was filled with hope.

  I began reading about pregnancy and babies, learning everything I could. I carefully calculated my savings and took a long look at my financial situation to make sure I was prepared. It had been three weeks since I first told Nate the news, and the excitement he demonstrated with the Martins had steadily waned. This bothered me, but I assumed he was just working through things in his mind.

  He came by my apartment one night and was unusually quiet. “I know this isn’t your fault,” he began
. “This is our problem.”

  I looked at him cautiously, wondering where he was going with this.

  “It’s my responsibility. I want to take care of this. I’ve thought about it a lot since you first told me you were pregnant.” He paused. I held my breath.

  “I think you should get an abortion,” he said flatly. “I’ll pay for it. I’ll take care of everything. I just don’t think having a baby is the best thing for us right now.”

  Nate slowly exhaled. I could tell he had made up his mind. All I had to do was say yes, and the problem would be solved. I sat in silence, wrestling with my emotions. I thought I had settled this already.

  Deep down inside, I was still struggling with how I had failed God. I was struggling with shame and guilt. I was angry with myself for compromising. I was angry that the birth control pills hadn’t worked. I was angry that Nate wasn’t treating me the same anymore. He had grown cold — there was a meanness in him toward me that I had never seen before, and it scared me. I didn’t really want to have Nate’s baby. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to have Nate anymore. I wavered.

  “I’ll think about it,” I said.

  Nate looked at me and started to say something, but the look on my face must have stopped him. “Fine,” he said. “Let me know when you make the appointment and I’ll take care of it.”

  I got some literature and went to a clinic to ask about an abortion. I even made an appointment, but I couldn’t go in. I sat outside in the parking lot with the words of the prophet Jeremiah running through my head, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you” (Jeremiah 1:5 NKJV). God already knew this baby. This baby was already his child. I just could not make another bad choice. No. I was not going to give this baby up just to make my life less complicated. The child had done nothing to deserve being erased. The child was innocent. The child had no choice, even if I did. Abortion was not the answer. I drove away from the clinic and never gave abortion another thought.

  When Nate came by later that evening, I told him I was going to keep the baby. He was very angry. He argued and cursed. He insulted me and made me feel selfish, but he could not persuade me. I didn’t care how angry he was. I didn’t care if he left me forever. My mind was made up. I told him he didn’t need to worry about anything. I had no expectations from him. The decision to keep the baby was mine. I would take care of the baby. I would raise the baby. I would pay for the baby. I wanted nothing from Nate Newton. He didn’t need to worry about anything. He was free to go.

  CHAPTER 15

  Ultimatum

  The one who loves the least, controls the relationship.

  Robert Anthony

  Nate was not happy with my decision to keep the baby. He gave me an ultimatum: “Have an abortion, or we’re finished.”

  I thought Nate truly loved me. He was the one who wanted to get married and live happily ever after. How could he leave me over a baby — his own baby? It didn’t make any sense.

  “I am keeping the baby,” I told him. “If you feel you need to go, then go.”

  He told me he would try to stick around but would make no promises. I let out a long sigh. If he left, he left. I had made up my mind, and there was absolutely nothing Nate could say or do that would make me reconsider.

  The lease on my apartment was coming to an end, and I was trying to position myself financially to prepare for the baby. Nate didn’t have his own place at the time. He lived with friends, Thornton and Karen Chandler. They offered to let us both move in with them until we could decide what we wanted to do. Nate persuaded me that this was a good solution for our immediate future. He appealed to my practical side by pointing out that this would save money until we figured things out. I was still resigned to raising the baby on my own, so saving money in anticipation of the time I’d have to take off work was the right card for Nate to play.

  The Chandlers had a decent-sized home and were sincere in their desire to help us, so I accepted. I put most items in storage, then moved my personal things in with Nate at the Chandlers’ home. Things were cheerful for the first few days, and it was nice not to feel alone, but after that, Nate was almost never around. He would go away for days at a time and then show up with no explanation about where he had been. Then he disappeared for nearly three months. He called occasionally when he was in town for mini-camps, but he seemed uninterested in me or the baby. I was coming to terms with the fact that I was going to have this baby on my own. I cried. I prayed. I planned. I made a strict budget. I cried some more. It was a very dark time. Nate’s rejection hurt me deeply.

  I grew increasingly uncomfortable staying with the Chandlers. Even though they were always kind, I felt like an intruder. I was used to being independent. Nate was gone more than he was around, and this embarrassed me. I felt like a burden — and I didn’t like the feeling. I didn’t belong there with Nate’s friends; I wasn’t even sure I belonged with Nate. I started thinking about leasing an apartment on my own again.

  I called my family, and they promised their support every step of the way. Friends from college and from church also came to see me and extended their love. These gestures reminded me that God still loved me. He hadn’t given up on me — and neither should I give up on myself. Fortified by the love of family and friends, I decided to move into a place by myself.

  One afternoon, the phone rang. It was Nate. “When I come back from camp,” he said, “I want to know what the sex of the baby is.”

  “Why?” I asked. “What difference does that make?”

  “Well, if it’s a boy, then I’ll try to work things out with you. If it’s a girl, then I don’t want to have anything to do with you,” he said matter-of-factly.

  I was horrified. Was he serious?

  I had no idea what the sex of the baby was, but I felt my heart hardening. “Well, it’s a girl,” I said coldly, “so I guess when you get back from camp, you can just go on with your life, and I can go on with mine.”

  I fell into a routine of work, doctor appointments, and restless sleep. I stopped going to church. I was too ashamed to be pregnant and unmarried. It felt like anyone who looked at me was judging me, and it added weight to my shame. But even then, even in my doubts about the future, I was overwhelmed with love for this little child. I read books about pregnancy and children, wanting to learn all I could about being a good mother.

  Football camp ended, and Nate called again. He wanted to know how I was doing and what the baby’s due date was. He told me that during camp he spent time in deep reflection and had undergone a change of heart. There was compassion in his voice, and he seemed genuinely concerned about how I was feeling and how I was getting along during the pregnancy.

  A few days later, Nate came to my apartment and apologized for his behavior and for being selfish — thinking more of how the baby affected him than me. He told me he was going to live up to his responsibilities and wanted us to raise the child together.

  “Dot,” he said, “I’m sorry, baby doll. I am truly sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I want to take care of you. I want to be with you. I want to take care of the baby. Please forgive me.”

  When I looked at him standing there, apologizing to me in earnest, my heart softened. I searched his eyes, looking for some sign that he meant what he said.

  “I am going to take care of you,” he said. “I will be here for you and the baby,” he continued, “whether it’s a boy or a girl.”

  I stood there, stroking my stomach and wanting so badly to be loved and cared for. I felt terribly alone. In my mind, I was already living in sin. My life was a chaotic mess. I knew living with a man was wrong, but what difference could it make now? I had already slept with him. I was pregnant with his child. Maybe letting him move in and take care of me was a good idea after all. At least I wouldn’t be alone anymore.

  “Alright,” I said with a sigh.

  Nate flashed his charismatic smile. “You’ll see,” he said. “Things will work out for us.” He pulled me into an embrace, and for
just a moment I stiffened, then relaxed and let him hold me. “I love you,” he said. I was tired. I needed someone to love me, and Nate would do.

  There was a shift in our relationship. By now I knew I was having a boy, but I didn’t want to tell Nate. I wanted to see if he really wanted to be with me, regardless of the sex of the baby. He was calmer now. He had made the team again, and he wanted to spend time with me. He was gentle again and more like the man I had fallen in love with. Did I only imagine the other things? It seemed like I knew two completely different people — one was kind, funny, and attentive; the other was self-centered, brutish, and mean-spirited. How could both of these be Nate?

  Wherever we went together, Nate was relaxed and completely at ease. He seemed ready to commit for the long term and genuinely excited to become a father. He was proud of me and introduced me as his wife, even to the media. I didn’t correct him, but I didn’t want to get married either. I wasn’t sure how long the fair weather between us was going to last. Some part of me didn’t believe Nate would stay around forever. I kept waiting for something to happen that would set off his anger and make him disappear again. I did finally tell him that the baby was a boy, and this made him very happy.

  September came, and the days were beginning to shorten as the oppressive Texas heat at last lifted. I was having frequent dizzy spells and had become anemic. My doctor advised me to stop working. I was prepared. I had a good job and had always been frugal. I had saved and planned and always lived within my means, so I was covered. I didn’t worry about things financially. Nate was around, but I didn’t need him. It was important for me to be able to provide for myself.

  Football season was now in full swing. Even as I drew nearer to my due date, Nate insisted I come to all of the Cowboys games to watch him play. I went faithfully, but it wasn’t as thrilling as it once had been. How I wished things were different. If only I hadn’t gotten pregnant, I thought to myself. What would things be like in my life right now?