The day I revealed my pregnancy at church began with morning sickness and ended with my mother disowning me. But what happened next led her to change her mind.
I’m a psychology major in college, and that’s where I met Glenn last fall. We started as study partners in our Intro to Research Methods class, but there was something special about him from the start.
He had this calming way of explaining complicated topics, and his smile could light up the whole lecture hall.
“Faith, you’re staring again,” he’d tease, and I’d blush every time.
“Can’t help it if you’re distracting,” I’d respond, and we’d both laugh like we shared a secret.
We went from grabbing coffee after class to spending hours at the campus diner, chatting over plates of waffle fries about our lives.
Glenn shared stories about his childhood and how he loved playing outside, while I opened up about losing my dad when I was five. That’s when our friendship shifted into something more.
“Your dad would be so proud of you,” Glenn said one night, holding my hand. “You’re following your dreams in psychology…”
The first time he kissed me on the porch swing at my mama’s house, it felt like a dream. But when I told Mama about Glenn, she just nodded and said, “That’s nice, sugar. Don’t forget about that big exam you’ve got coming up.”
Mama, Claudia, has been focused on raising me and her love for nature ever since Dad passed. She never dated again and didn’t seem interested in love.
Sometimes, I’d see her looking at Dad’s photo with such longing that it broke my heart. I wished she’d allow herself to be happy again, but we didn’t have that kind of relationship where I could say it.
“Mama,” I once asked, “don’t you ever get lonely?”
“I’ve got you,” she answered. “That’s all I need.”
Things were going smoothly until that morning when I woke up feeling terribly sick.
I felt nauseous and exhausted, and the thought of breakfast almost made me throw up.
Could I be pregnant? I wondered. Glenn and I had been intimate a few weeks before.
I was terrified and trembling as I fumbled for the pregnancy test I had hidden.
“Please, please, please,” I whispered, watching the little window. “Please tell me I’m wrong!”
But the two pink lines were undeniable, and my world tipped over.
I sat on the bathroom floor, my heart racing.
“This can’t be happening,” I muttered. “I’m only nineteen. I can’t have a baby. I just can’t…”
Minutes later, I was pacing my room, overwhelmed by the thought of how to tell Mama.
How could I hide this from her? I thought. She’ll never accept this. A baby out of wedlock? Not in our family.
I must’ve spent hours going through possible scenarios in my mind, each one leading to my mother’s rejection.
I was sure she’d never accept my pregnancy.
For the next few days, I stayed in my room, avoiding Mama’s attempts to reach me.
“Faith, dinner’s ready!” she called.
“Sorry, Mama, huge psychology paper due tomorrow,” I lied, guilt building up as I avoided her.
The next morning, she knocked on my door. “I made your favorite pancakes.”
“I already ate,” I said quickly, avoiding her gaze.
By Thursday, Mama was done with the excuses. She marched up to my room and stood in the doorway.
“Since when do you skip my pancake breakfasts? And don’t think I haven’t noticed you running to the bathroom every morning,” she said, arms crossed.
“I’m just stressed about exams,” I muttered, not meeting her eyes.
“Uh-huh,” she said, skeptical. “And I suppose you’ve stopped drinking coffee because of stress?”
“My study group recommended cutting back on caffeine.”
Mama’s voice softened but remained firm. “I’ve never seen you skip meals during finals. Something’s going on, and it’s not just studying.”
Before she could say more, I grabbed my backpack. “Sorry, Mama, gotta go to the library. Group project!” I dashed out, desperate to avoid the conversation.
That Sunday, Mama called up to me, “Faith, honey, we’re gonna be late for church!”
“Coming!” I called, fighting the nausea. “Maybe I should skip today…”
“Skip church? Are you sick?” Mama appeared in my doorway.
“I’m just tired,” I said, forcing a smile. “Been studying hard.”
“You’ve been tired all week,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “What’s going on?”
“No, ma’am,” I answered too quickly. “I’ll be ready in five.”
During the service, the nausea hit again. Mama grabbed my hand, concerned.
“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” she whispered, noticing how odd I’d been acting.
Maybe it was the guilt or the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t keep it in anymore.
“Mom, I need to tell you something,” I whispered, tears in my eyes. “I’m pregnant.”
The silence that followed felt endless. Mama’s expression shifted through many emotions in a heartbeat.
“What?” she gasped, loudly enough for people to turn around. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, I’m not joking,” I said, my voice shaking. “I’m pregnant, and it’s Glenn’s.”
That’s when Mama snapped. She stood up and yelled at me.
“Get out of the church right now!” she hissed. “Go home, pack your things, and don’t come back! How could you do this? Don’t you know how our family and friends will react? Do you have any idea what this means?”
I stood, tears blurring my vision, and started walking out.
But before I reached the door, Pastor James called out.
“Claudia, would you really turn your back on your daughter now?” he asked, walking toward us with a stern expression. “Isn’t this the time for love and forgiveness?”
“She’s pregnant out of wedlock!” Mama argued.
“That shouldn’t matter,” Pastor James said gently. “Remember when your husband passed, and the church supported you both? Shouldn’t we do the same now?”
His words changed everything. Mama looked at me, and suddenly, she was in tears.
We hugged in the church, both crying while the congregation quietly watched.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispered. “I was just scared for you. I know how hard it is to raise a child alone…”
“I’m not alone, Mama,” I said. “I have Glenn, and I have you… if you’ll still have me.”
But the story didn’t end there.
A few days later, Mama insisted on meeting Glenn and his family.
“It’s time to do this properly,” she said, adjusting my collar like I was still a little girl. “No more secrets.”
Glenn drove us to his house.
“You nervous?” I asked as we pulled up.
“A little,” he said, squeezing my hand. “But it’s time for our families to meet.”
When we arrived, who answered the door? Pastor James.
His reaction when Glenn called him “Dad” was priceless.
“Well, I’ll be…” Pastor James laughed, shaking his head. “The Lord sure works in mysterious ways.”
Looking back, I can’t help but laugh. Sometimes blessings come in the strangest packages, and the people you least expect become your biggest supporters.
Mama? She’s already picking out baby names and knitting booties.
Just the other day, she said, “You know, sugar, maybe it’s time I started going out more. Mrs. Jones’ brother just moved to town…”
Let’s see where this goes next.