I Got Engaged Twice, Pregnant, and Then Married Within 6 Months
I guess that based on the title, I already sound like I’m crazy. Or reckless. But I promise I’m not either of those… Well at least I hope not. I’ll let you be the judge.
I know it’s selfish, but my desire to share this story roots from a longing for catharsis and acknowledging that my life is not how I ever imagined it would be.
I’ve tried writing this story multiple times. I suppose it’s what you’d call my “love story”. This is yet another attempt to recount a series of events that happened to me in a very short period of time. All of these events were “major life events”, which certainly ring true to their name.
Every time I begin to write, there ends up being a lot of backspacing, trying to cover up the ugly, and simply an inability to express myself in words. Not to mention, it’s also incredibly difficult to write with a clingy 1-year old, school work, household responsibilities, and a husband to give attention to.
I’ve had my moments of shame. Great shame. But I am also so proud of who I am today.
Here is my story, written from a gal who has finally allowed herself to freely share the sum of events that have led her to a new, but beautiful life.
Our first date was in a cold hot tub. No, that was not a typo, that’s really what I meant to say. The hot tub was broken and couldn’t keep up with the cold Utah temperatures outside. My now husband always says that he thinks it was daring of me to be in a bathing suit in front of someone I had barely met, however I guess I was always comfortable with myself.
I was also incredibly naive. Naivety is basically the theme of my life.
Why would boys care about how my body looks? Or if they do, why would that matter to me anyway?
Our relationship progressed quickly. He was charismatic, sweet, and funny. He was also Colombian, which I found very intriguing. I didn’t know much about Colombia and was dying to know more about it — and about him.
We began spending time with each other everyday. Even a single day apart was too long.
We had our first kiss at McDonald’s. We call it our McNuggets kiss. We loved going dancing at the local Latin club. He would even make the bi-weekly trip to come see me at work, where I’d stick him with a needle to draw his plasma. Yes, he was that committed. Every chance we had, we would spend together.
Looking back, I wish we would have given each other a bit more space to let the other be more independent. But it was so hard! We always wanted to be together. During Christmas break, he drove 2 days non-stop across the country to spend the holidays with me and meet my family. He didn’t even speak English. Or have a license.
A few months after we had met, we were engaged. It was quick. My parents were worried. I was stubborn and defensive of our relationship, despite having certain hesitancies myself. All of his family was in Colombia so I didn’t have a connection with them either.
I was excited, but so scared. I had feelings of uneasiness moving forward with the wedding planning. I had so much love and support from those around me with the decision I had made to seal the deal. We decided on a beautiful dusty blue to be the main color for the big day. We began finding florists, figuring out our cake flavors, etc.
Little did I know that when I had my dress picked out, it would be the last time I would lay eyes on it. To this day, it is bitter sweet looking at photos of the dress that was never meant to be. It was so beautiful.
I always thought that the girls in movies who broke their engagements or called their weddings off were so strong. That’s because they are. It’s not easy to do.
My heart shattered when a string of lies was slapped in my face. I couldn’t believe that it was happening to me. And like many girls often do, I blamed myself. I felt that if only I was good enough, this wouldn’t have happened.
Breaking an engagement is hard. It hurts. But, it’s also the easiest decision ever. I knew with a perfect clarity that I had to break it. And I did.
Well, sort of.
We broke up… But we didn’t. I’m sure you know how that goes.
The following weeks were a jumbled mix of emotions. I tried to be firm in the decision I had made to separate myself from him. But I was met with his outrageous efforts to try to win my affections again. There were more tears shed during those several days than in my entire life. We still saw each other every day. I tried to hold my ground but I fell again. The little girl inside of me wanted nothing but to believe that everything would be okay no matter what.
Perhaps it was my naivety that led me to crash into this awful mess of a relationship. Maybe it would also be what we needed to hold on until the end. Maybe it was what gave us both enough hope to stick it out.
I forgave, but I couldn’t forget.
In the midst of the tears and heartache and confusion, I began to feel sick. I thought that this stupid boy was surely wearing my body out with so much grief. But one night, I couldn’t help it. On my way home I bought a 2-pack of pregnancy tests.
As any mother can attest to, seeing those 2 dark lines is completely surreal, especially when you’re least expecting it. I quickly reached for the second test, because surely the first one couldn’t be correct.
Another 2 lines appeared.
I immediately fell to my knees and prayed the hardest I have ever prayed. It was the only thing I knew how to do in the moment. I felt so ashamed. But I needed my God. I let Him know that I was fully aware that I didn’t deserve a whole lot of help, but that this child inside of me did.
I prayed to be a good mother, and for guidance as I continued down this path. And so I fled for home. I packed up as much as I could and left everything else behind. I didn’t even tell the love of my life, because I knew he would stop me. I bought the cheapest plane ticket I could, made a few phone calls and living arrangements, and took a one-way flight to Georgia.
I was two months pregnant already. There was a little heart furiously beating inside of me.
I devastated the father of my child when I ran away. There were so many things that we didn’t know about the future, but I at least knew that I was meant to be with my family at home.
The following weeks were filled with numerous heart-to-heart discussions, trying to figure out the future of my unborn child, as well as my own. Many suggested the idea of giving the baby for adoption. Though I tried to consider it, deep in my heart I knew I could never carry this child only to give her up. I already loved her too much.
My baby’s father and I maintained daily contact via Facetime calls that would continue long into the late hours of the night. We had always been chatty, and it quickly became tradition for us to spend our entire evenings talking.
Being lied to cut me to the core. But if there was one thing that I never doubted during this time, it was that this young man truly loved me.
He flew out to visit me several weeks later. As one can imagine, there was certainly tension in the air as he walked into my father’s home. It was totally nerve-wracking. But I am eternally grateful for the loving and forgiving hearts that my parents had for the boy that hurt their daughter.
He asked my dad once again for my hand in marriage. I suppose I don’t actually know how that conversation went. But he then proposed to me in the parking lot outside of the ice cream shop we had just visited. There were no cameras, no videographer, no supporting friends. But it was one of the best moments of my life. It was far better than the first time he proposed, on a bridge under a beautiful snow-capped tree, littered with photos of our relationship. This time it was just the two of us, at 10 pm, with our hearts more knit together than they had ever been. It was personal, spontaneous, and simply special.
During his visit, we paid the extra 85 bucks to get an early gender reveal so that we could share the special moment together. The dust that popped out of the balloon was pink. We were going to have a little girl.
A month later we were married. I desperately wanted to elope. I’m glad we didn’t, because we had nothing. We hardly had any possessions between the two of us. Everything that my soon-to-be-husband owned was packed up in a single suitcase, and I had left many of my own belongings behind. I will be forever grateful for all the individuals who helped us get back on our feet.
My wedding dress was nothing compared to the ones that I had tried on only a few months earlier. It was $20 off of Amazon. I doubt that it was made for brides, but it was long and white, and it suited my 5-month pregnant body. It was also what I could pay for with my income coming from the local smoothie joint. I loved it.
We decided that pink would be our wedding color this time, in honor of our precious child.
With the help of lots of amazing individuals, we were able to pull off a somewhat impressive wedding, considering the time we had to plan it, which ended up only being a handful of weeks.
Invitations were sent out with photos of our first engagement. We were able to string up beautiful lights from a friend’s quinceanera, have a dainty wedding cake baked from a wonderful lady at church, borrow decorations from multiple other people’s previous weddings, etc. It was truly amazing what we could make happen with several phone calls.
I will never doubt the willingness that people have to help others. I believe in the goodness of people. People are far more willing to serve and help than one might believe.
September 14 was the day we got married. It was a happy day. It was as if broken pieces our relationship were somewhat being put together again. Believe me, our marriage was really just the start of a long healing process, but I am grateful for the leaps of faith each of us took so that we could be in each other’s lives.
I suppose that is the end of my story. What more can I say? I guess I could add that my $400 car broke down the day after our wedding so we had to move back in with my parents. But that wouldn’t have really fit in with my title… As you can see, the events in my life are far from glamorous. There was a lot of embarrassment, shame, and heartbreak in these 6 short months of my life. There were also several moments of healing, love, and joy, that would extend far beyond this period of time in my life.
I found myself having to put one of my core beliefs to the test during this time, and it was that “everything would be alright, no matter what”. I repeated that to myself on the daily. I had faith that what I wanted to believe would come true. And it did. I learned to take things one day at a time. With earnest effort to see the good in all circumstances, everything will eventually fall into place exactly how it should.
