The Day I Told My Mom I Was Pregnant
The day I told my mom I was pregnant at church started with me feeling really sick in the morning and ended with my mom so upset she didn’t want to talk to me anymore. But what happened next changed everything for both of us.
I’m a college student studying psychology, and I met Glenn in my Intro to Research Methods class last fall. We began as study buddies, but right from the start, he had this amazing way of explaining things that made everything easy to understand. And his smile? It was like sunshine breaking through the clouds in a gloomy lecture hall.
“Faith, you’re staring again,” he would tease me during our study sessions, and every time, my cheeks would turn bright red.
“I can’t help it if you’re so distracting,” I would reply, and we’d laugh together, feeling like we shared the best secret in the world.
As the weeks went by, we went from just studying together to grabbing coffee after class and spending hours at the diner. We shared endless plates of waffle fries while telling each other our life stories. Glenn talked about his childhood, running through fields and playing outside, while I opened up about losing my dad when I was just five years old.
One night at the diner, he reached across the table, squeezed my hand, and said, “Your dad would be so proud of you, Faith, for following your dreams and wanting to help people through psychology.”
The first time he kissed me was on the porch swing outside my mom’s house, and I swear I saw stars. It felt magical! But when I told my mom, Claudia, about Glenn, she just pressed her lips together and said, “That’s nice, sugar. Don’t forget about that big exam coming up.”
My mom has always been my rock. Since my dad passed away, she devoted herself entirely to raising me and her love for nature. She never dated anyone else and didn’t seem interested in love again. Sometimes, I would catch her glancing at my dad’s photo with a look that made my heart ache. Once, I asked her, “Mama, don’t you ever get lonely?”
“I’ve got you,” she replied, smoothing out her skirt. “That’s all the company I need.”
Everything was going smoothly until one morning when I woke up feeling so sick I could barely move. Just the thought of food made my stomach twist, and panic started to creep in as I realized what those symptoms could mean. My hands shook as I opened the drawer where I had hidden a pregnancy test. When I saw two pink lines, I could only stare in shock.
Nineteen years old, still in college, and pregnant. My heart raced as I paced around my room, imagining how my mom would react to this news—and none of it looked good. I was sure she would never accept a child born out of wedlock.
For days, I hid in my room, avoiding my mom’s meals and making up excuses to stay away from her. “Faith, baby girl,” she called out one evening, “I made your favorite pancakes.”
“Thanks, Mama, but I already grabbed a granola bar,” I lied, guilt twisting in my stomach.
This went on until Thursday when she finally confronted me. She stood in my doorway, arms crossed, and that mom-stare fixed on me.
“Since when do you skip my pancakes? And don’t think I haven’t noticed you running to the bathroom every morning,” she said.
“Just stressed about exams,” I muttered, trying to sound convincing.
“Uh-huh,” she replied, raising an eyebrow. “And that’s why you haven’t touched your coffee in days?”
Desperate to escape her questions, I grabbed my backpack and left for the library, avoiding her worried gaze. But by Sunday, she was not buying it anymore. “Faith, honey, we’re going to be late for service!” she called.
At church, everything felt normal until the nausea hit me again, and my mom noticed. She leaned in, her eyes narrowing. “Faith, what’s going on?”
I knew I couldn’t keep the secret any longer. I whispered, “Mom, I need to tell you something. I’m pregnant.”
The silence was so heavy it felt like a weight on my chest. My mom’s expression changed from shock to anger. She stood up, her voice trembling, and said, “Get out of this church and pack your things. How could you do this? You’ve shamed our family!” Tears blurred my vision as I stumbled toward the door, feeling like my world was crumbling.
But then, a familiar voice stopped me. It was Pastor James, walking toward us. “Claudia,” he said gently, “would you really abandon your daughter now? Isn’t this the time for grace and love?”
“She’s having a child out of wedlock!” my mom protested, her voice rising.
“That shouldn’t matter, Claudia,” he replied firmly. “Remember when your husband passed? This congregation held you and Faith in love. Shouldn’t we do the same now?”
I watched as my mom’s face softened, and moments later, we were hugging in the middle of the church, both of us crying as the congregation looked on in quiet understanding. It felt like a weight had been lifted, and I knew that love was stronger than fear.
Days later, my mom insisted on meeting Glenn and his family. “No more secrets,” she said, straightening my collar like I was still her little girl. Glenn drove us to his house, looking nervous but ready. When we arrived, the door opened, and there stood Pastor James.
I couldn’t help but laugh when Glenn called him “Dad,” and the pastor looked between us in surprise before breaking into a big grin. “The Lord sure does work in mysterious ways,” he said, chuckling.
Looking back now, I can see that blessings often come in the scariest packages. And my mom? She’s already picking out baby names and knitting tiny booties. Just yesterday, she even said, “You know, maybe it’s time I got out more. Mrs. Jones’ brother just moved to town…”
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