02-03-2014, 06:36 AM
Jeff undressed and then made his way up onto the examination table, placing his legs in the stirrups gingerly. Exposed from the waist down, Jeff felt especially vulnerable, unable to hide his current condition. Jeff took a deep breath and then decided it was time to tell Dr. Maxwell everything.
"6 months ago, I got drunk at a party hosted by some football players from my college. I had run into one of the linebackers at the library earlier that day, astonished that local celebrities like them would study at the library with other students like me. I introduced myself to him, one of the starting linebackers, and told him how much of a fan of his I was. We seemed to hit it off. I always thought I was straight, but something about how he spoke to me caused a change inside me. It caused me to feel something. So naturally I was ecstatic when he invited me to a party he and some of the other football players were hosting that night. I showed up at the party and not wanting to seem like a total wimp tried to go drink-for-drink with this guy: a 300 pound black linebacker. Needless to say I soon found myself very drunk, the room spinning, alone with the guy I had just met earlier that day. He kept on putting his arm around me, but to be honest I was too drunk to care or do anything about it. Next thing I knew I was bent over a pool table, him having his way with me.
I woke up the next morning and walked home, bits and pieces of the night fuzzy but still very aware of what had happened to me from the pain I experienced when I walked. 3 weeks later I found out what really had happened from one of those drug store pregnancy kits. I tried to confront him about it, but at first he refused to answer my calls and text messages and then resorted to threatening to have him and the other football players beat me to death if I ever let a single soul know what he had done to me. Days turned into weeks. I was stunned. Paralyzed even. I couldn't bring myself to terminate the pregnancy. I couldn't turn to my family because even if they were willing to support their college age son becoming a single father, they weren't about to support me knowing that I was carrying a biracial baby. Let alone even let me into their home.
I hid the morning sickness. The bloating. The swelling. Everything that my body was going through in the hopes that this was all just a nightmare and that I would wake up from it at any moment. And that was easy enough for the first few months by wearing baggy clothes and shutting myself in my apartment. But soon the baby started kicking. Waking me up in the night even. Things were changing faster and faster and I felt like I was starting to lose control of my own body.
My belly is getting too big to keep hidden and I'm gaining more and more weight every day. The baby is getting big and I know it will be here soon. You gotta help me Doc, I don't know what's happening to me and I don't know what to do."
Jeff was shaking, tears running down his face. This was the first time he had opened up about his pregnancy to anyone, and the magnitude of his feeling of helplessness was overwhelming.
"6 months ago, I got drunk at a party hosted by some football players from my college. I had run into one of the linebackers at the library earlier that day, astonished that local celebrities like them would study at the library with other students like me. I introduced myself to him, one of the starting linebackers, and told him how much of a fan of his I was. We seemed to hit it off. I always thought I was straight, but something about how he spoke to me caused a change inside me. It caused me to feel something. So naturally I was ecstatic when he invited me to a party he and some of the other football players were hosting that night. I showed up at the party and not wanting to seem like a total wimp tried to go drink-for-drink with this guy: a 300 pound black linebacker. Needless to say I soon found myself very drunk, the room spinning, alone with the guy I had just met earlier that day. He kept on putting his arm around me, but to be honest I was too drunk to care or do anything about it. Next thing I knew I was bent over a pool table, him having his way with me.
I woke up the next morning and walked home, bits and pieces of the night fuzzy but still very aware of what had happened to me from the pain I experienced when I walked. 3 weeks later I found out what really had happened from one of those drug store pregnancy kits. I tried to confront him about it, but at first he refused to answer my calls and text messages and then resorted to threatening to have him and the other football players beat me to death if I ever let a single soul know what he had done to me. Days turned into weeks. I was stunned. Paralyzed even. I couldn't bring myself to terminate the pregnancy. I couldn't turn to my family because even if they were willing to support their college age son becoming a single father, they weren't about to support me knowing that I was carrying a biracial baby. Let alone even let me into their home.
I hid the morning sickness. The bloating. The swelling. Everything that my body was going through in the hopes that this was all just a nightmare and that I would wake up from it at any moment. And that was easy enough for the first few months by wearing baggy clothes and shutting myself in my apartment. But soon the baby started kicking. Waking me up in the night even. Things were changing faster and faster and I felt like I was starting to lose control of my own body.
My belly is getting too big to keep hidden and I'm gaining more and more weight every day. The baby is getting big and I know it will be here soon. You gotta help me Doc, I don't know what's happening to me and I don't know what to do."
Jeff was shaking, tears running down his face. This was the first time he had opened up about his pregnancy to anyone, and the magnitude of his feeling of helplessness was overwhelming.