Page 10

I didn’t expect to wake up and see my family again, so when she asked me that, I truthfully shook my head no, letting her know that I didn’t.

“I want to learn a little bit about you, Nari. I know that you’re a mom. A really, young mom. When you’re not raising your son, what is it that you do? What’s something that you do for fun?” she asked me.

“Nothing really. If I’m not at school, then I’m home with the baby. I hang out with friends sometimes though,” I said, and when I said that, she smiled.

“Okay, and when you hang out, what do you typically do? How often is sometimes too?” she wanted to know.

“We’ll go to Dave & Busters. Probably go to the movies. Get our nails and stuff done. Sometimes isn’t often though. I probably hang out with my friends once a month or once every couple of months,” I let her know.

“You have a lot of friends?” she asked.

“Not a lot, but a decent amount. When I got pregnant with Nico, some of the girls that I used to hang with, they stopped talking to me. I guess their parents made them. They said that I was fast and that it wasn’t a good look,” I was sad when I spoke on this.

My sister knew it too because she hugged me a little tighter. My best friend, Taylor, since the 1st grade stopped talking to me when I told her that I was pregnant with Nico. According to her, she said that her mom no longer approved of our friendship. I didn’t know if that was the truth, or if she was going to be embarrassed to be friends with the girl from high school that was carrying a baby.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Anari. I feel like it’s on my heart to tell you something, so I want to share this with you. A lot of young girls have babies too soon, and they use it as a weapon against themselves. I can see why because just like you said, you lost friends. Old friends will play their part in making you feel like you should be punished for your choices, when that’s not the case. We don’t have to glorify teenage pregnancy though, but it is something that happens. Having a baby at a young age doesn’t make you a bad person, Anari. You aren’t a bad influence, and you didn’t deserve to lose out on friends because of it,” she went on, and I’ve needed to hear those words for months now, so when she said it, I couldn’t control my emotions.

I was crying really hard to the point that my grandma had to come over, and she consoled me, even with Deja still using her arms to wrap around me.

“If it makes you feel any better, or if it gives you just a little bit of hope, I’m the product of a teenaged pregnancy. My mom was a sophomore in high school when she had me. She’s right here on the third floor, working as a neonatologist in the ICU. Even with everything that she had going on, she was still able to finish high school, go to college, go off to medical school, and all the other things that led her to where she is now. Look at me. A product of that. I went on to build my own life too. That came with a good support system. I want to know, what does your support system look like?” she asked me.

Hearing her tell me all the good things that her mom did, even after having a baby, was motivating. Even seeing Ms. James sitting in front of me, hearing how smart, and educated she was, made me think about my baby boy, who was the product of a teenaged pregnancy. I wanted him to go off and be able to do good things with his life too.

“Pretty much everyone that’s in the room right now is my support system. While I’m in school during the day, my baby is either with my mom, my sister, or my grandma. My aunt comes over our house a lot of times too, so she’ll watch my son while I study or do homework,” I let her know. She jotted that down and then pierced back at me.

“What about your son’s father?” she asked. I knew that was coming, especially since I didn’t call him out on being a part of my support system.

“He gets him when he can. My son is with his dad right now. His dad’s name is Juvie. It’s our senior year of high school, and he’s always tied up with basketball. I’m always the one with the baby, not him,” I gave her the light version.

As badly as I wanted to go in, whine to her that it wasn’t fair that I had to do all the work with our son, while Juvie didn’t share that same load, I didn’t do it. It was so important to me that she didn’t view me as someone that was immature, with a fucked up mental standing. My relationship with my son was on the line, and whether I was going to be able to go home was on the line as well.

“I want to ask you something personal, Nari. This next question is one of the reasons why I suggested you have your family step out of the room, so we could talk, but you’re comfortable with them being here, so I won’t pressure you. When your son was conceived, was the sex consensual?” she asked me.

Her question caught me off guard. I even heard my mom suck her teeth, and Deja, who still had her arms wrapped around me tensed up a little bit.

“Yeah. Me, and Juvie were together. He was my first. That’s the only boy that I’ve ever been with. He didn’t force me to have sex with him. I did it because I wanted to. I didn’t think that I was going to get pregnant though. Why did you ask me that? Are you trying to insinuate that I was raped?” I asked, really trying to understand her a little better.

“I’m not insinuating that at all. I’m just trying to see if there was anything traumatic surrounding the pregnancy itself. If you say that it was consensual, then that’s what we’ll stick with. When did the depression begin? Was it during your pregnancy or after?” she asked. I didn’t answer her question right away. I gave it time before I spoke up.

“Probably during. Like, once I started showing. The kind of showing where I couldn’t hide it with a hoodie anymore. That’s when I started getting weird looks at school, and people were talking about me. It peaked after my son came. He wasn’t sleeping during the night. He has his moments where all he does is cry. Then, when I would get on social media, and see my peers out, having fun, living their life, while I was stuck in the house with a baby. These past four months have been really hard for me. Depression was eating at me, and that’s why I took all those pills. I felt like I didn’t want to live anymore. The fact that I’m still here proves to me that maybe I’m supposed to be here. I know what I did was wrong, but please don’t take my baby away from me. I’ll get some kind of help. I’ll go to therapy or something. I’ll do whatever I have to do to get back in good mental standing,” I said these things to her with tears pouring down my face, using my hands to wipe them away as they fell.

Ms. James gave me a sympathetic look before crossing her right leg over her left. You could tell that she was searching for the next words to say to me.

“I’m hearing everything that you’re saying to me, Anari. I appreciate you for being vulnerable and telling me these things. Because of what happened last night, I can’t take in the things that you’re saying and make the verdict that you’re okay. I must take what happened last night seriously. I like that you acknowledged getting help because that’s important, and that matters. Therapy is a good place to start. Therapy only works when it’s done correctly, and you go in with the intentions of being truthful, and actually wanting the help,” she said, and I nodded my head.

“As far as you going home because I know that’s what you want, we’re going to keep you here. The staff will continue to monitor you medically because of the overdose. When the medical team clears you, we’ll all decide on what the safest step should be next. Those steps could be anywhere from a psychiatric evaluation, or maybe even a short-term impatient stay. The final option could be having you go home with a strict outpatient plan,” she said, and I sat here, taking in all these things, crying even more because from the sound of things, it didn’t look as if they were going to let me go home. I took all those fuckin pills, and now these people thought that I was crazy.

“And what about my son?” I asked, just to verify.

“No one is going to take your son away from you, Anari. Right now, what’s important is getting you stabled mentally. You showed me your support system. Your support system will just have to step in and take care of your son, until you are in a better position to do it. The only thing I want you to worry about right now is getting some rest. We’re going to hope for a better day tomorrow, okay?” she asked me. I didn’t have the words, so I just nodded my head.

She stood up, grabbed her things, and before walking out of the room, she touched my leg. It was just a small gesture of reassurance, letting me know that she was here, and she heard me. She left out, and when she did, my aunt, grandma, and mom followed behind her. I’m sure they had a million questions, but probably just didn’t want to ask them in front of me.

I waited until I heard the door open, and close before I broke down.

“They going to put me in.. a fuckin psych ward,” I cried to my sister, looking up at her. Deja rolled her eyes at what I said and laughed.

“Girl, no they not! Based on the things that you shared with her, you don’t even sound crazy. You just sound depressed. I’m hoping that they’ll allow you to go home and just give you a strict outpatient plan. You heard what she said about your support system. If we have to step in more with Nico while you get it together mentally, then we’ll do that. Relax. Stop giving yourself more shit to worry about,” she said.