Mom, My Girlfriend’s Pregnant. What Do I Do? :: YummyMummyClub.ca

Hey, Mother? Try to remember that lady I was observing a couple months ago?” 

“I do.”

 “Very well, she advised me that she’s expecting and that the baby’s mine.” 

In my head, a warp-speed montage of each and every second of his 16 yrs: his birth, his to start with day of college, his laughter, his growing self-assurance, his person-voice, excitedly sharing his dreams for life right after superior school… 

Also in my head: Holyshitholyshitholyshit 

From my mouth: “Alright, then. Unforeseen. How do you really feel about that?” 

“I you should not know. Terrified, it’s possible? I mean, it can be achievable, I guess. We used a condom and she’s on the capsule, she stated…but…do I offer to pay back for an abortion, or do we share the toddler, or…what?” 

For what it is worthy of, there is nothing at all in any parenting e-book that had ready me for this dialogue, to listen to individuals words and phrases occur out of his mouth. Am very guaranteed that mine dropped open, as my brain scrambled to process almost everything he was stating, inquiring, looking for. 

In my head: Holyshitholyshitholyshit 

From my mouth: “To start with, get all the facts. Textual content her immediately, now. 

Next, in the end, you require to support whatsoever choice she arrives to. Her human body, her selection.” 

“Alright, but if she decides to have the infant, how does that operate? Does she keep it, or do I get to be, like, a father?” 

In my head: He explained get. Not have to. Get your shit with each other here, female, and DO NOT cry. 

From my mouth: “You would be, certainly. A father.” 

“But…how do I do that?” 

In my head: Why are you asking me? I’ve been a mom for 16 decades, and clearly, I have NO Thought what I’m doing! 

From my mouth: 1 breath at a time, toddler. One particular breath, a single instant at a time. 

Also, from my mouth: Holy shit. 

Sigh. 

This unique parenting moment ended in no actual being pregnant, some fiercely-worded texts amongst yet another woman’s infant and mine…and an aching sense of decline. 

Not for the baby-that-wasn’t. But for the young children they were, a minute in the past…and who they are, no longer. 

Just. 

Like. 

That.
 

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