Katie's Glimpse (The Glimpse Series) (10 page)

As February arrived,
I realized my period was late. It should have come the last week of January. I
panicked and drove to a pharmacy one town over and bought a home pregnancy
test. I couldn’t do the test at home, so I snuck into the pharmacy restroom and
did it there. I sat on the lid of the toilet, willing the test to be negative.
I closed my eyes and did something I hadn’t done since before I’d slept with
Seth- I prayed.

“Lord, I know I
shouldn’t ask you for anything after what I’ve done, but please don’t let this
test be positive. I promise to never have sex again. I’ll do whatever you want.
Just don’t let this be positive.” I opened my eyes and peered down at the stick
as it shook in my hand and through my tears, saw the plus sign. I was pregnant,
and my life was over.

 I drove home slowly
and as I pulled into the driveway, noticed my parents were already there. I must
have looked terrified when I walked through the door because as soon as Mom saw
me, she yelled for Dad. She dropped the folder she’d been holding and papers
fluttered to the floor as she ran to me. I glanced up and saw Dad rounding the
top of the stairs before I collapsed against her, sobbing.

As soon as he
reached us, Dad grabbed me and began checking my body for bruises. “Wh-what’s
wrong, Katie? Did Seth hurt you again?” he asked, the panic obvious in his voice.

I couldn’t speak. I
was too overcome by emotion. He picked me up and sat me in his lap on the
couch. I buried my face in his shirt as my sobs subsided. “Lisa, get her medicine,”
I heard him say between my hiccups.

A few minutes later
Mom appeared beside me and handed over two anxiety pills. I was about to put
them into my mouth when I suddenly remembered something from health class; some
medications could be dangerous during pregnancy. I quickly lowered my hand. I
might have been afraid, but I would never hurt my unborn child.

“Take them, Katie,”
Dad demanded. I shook my head. Taking the pills from my hand, he forced one in
my mouth. I struggled against him and finally managed to spit the pill out in
my hand.

“No, I can’t. They
might hurt the baby,” I blurted out.

I heard a whimper
escape from Mom’s lips while Dad reeled back against the couch like I’d slapped
him. I watched as he opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. All the
color had drained from his face. “You’re pregnant?” he finally asked, his voice
low.

 “Yes. I’m so sorry,
Daddy,” I whispered and tried to get up, knowing he probably wanted away from
me, but he pulled me back into his lap. He wrapped his arms around me and
buried his face in my hair. I heard my father weeping, and it broke my heart. Mom
clung to both of us and cried too.

I don’t know how
long we sat wrapped up like that, but it was a while. As we finally managed to
stop our tears, and my parents got over the initial shock, Dad cleared his
throat and spoke, “We have to talk about this.” He lifted me off his lap,
sitting me down on the couch. He moved to the coffee table so he could face me.
“Did he rape you? Did Seth force you to have sex with him?” he asked, staring
into my eyes.

 I knew this
question would come. My parents had seen the bruises and wanted to think the
worst of Seth, that he did this to me, that me, their daughter couldn’t have
been a part of this of my own free will. “No,” I whispered and hung my head.

“How long-” Mom’s
voice broke, and she closed her eyes for a second before continuing, “How long
have you been having sex with Seth?”

I cringed at her
words and stared down at my hands, unable to meet her eyes. I didn’t want to
have this conversation with them.

“It was only once,”
I answered softly, my voice full of shame.

The room was
engulfed in silence. The only thing I could hear was the roaring of the blood
in my ears and the pounding of my heart.

Dad finally spoke,
“Why, Katie? We raised you in church. You knew what God expected. You knew you
should have waited until you were married.” He paused and gestured to the
kitchen. “We even talked about this with both of you right over there at the
kitchen table.”

 What could I say?
There was no good or right answer to this. I knew what I did was wrong and went
against all my beliefs. I felt the guilt and heaviness of it every day in my
heart and soul. It clung to me like a dirty second skin, a skin that wouldn’t
wash away no matter how much I scrubbed. I felt broken, and knew I would never
be whole again so I answered the only way I could.

 “He said he loved me
and that if I loved him too-” my words were cut off by the sound of Dad’s fist
hitting the coffee table. He shot up and stumbled to the kitchen. Mom just laid
her head on her knees and began to weep again. I heard Dad muttering to himself
as he paced around the kitchen.

A few minutes later,
he came back and resumed his place on the coffee table. “Katie, that’s not
love. Love doesn’t demand that you give yourself away to prove something. I’m
sorry to say this, but he used and manipulated you, honey. Real love doesn’t
work that way. Believe me, I know. I was a teenager once too and loved your
mother very much but never once pressured her to do that. I respected her
decision to wait until we were married. That’s what real love does. I’m not
telling you this to hurt you more. I’m telling you this so you will understand
the difference,” he said softly.

I didn’t know if
Seth really ever loved me, and that made it even worse. I’d believed every word
he said. I trusted him when all he’d done was lie and hurt me. I would never
make that mistake with anyone else again.

***

     My parents
decided it was best for me not to return to school. I didn’t care since I’d
gone back to being a complete basket case. The depression, panic attacks, and
nightmares were worse than ever. I wouldn’t shower or eat and was too afraid to
sleep. My parents were at a loss as to what to do. Dr. Baird recommended a
clinic in Memphis that specialized in high risk pregnancies. I was considered
high risk due to my fragile mental state.

My parents also decided,
after much prayer and discussions, that they would raise the baby as their own
and never tell anyone it was mine. I couldn’t really disagree since I was such
a mess. I wouldn’t be able to care for a baby. They didn’t think it was safe
for me or my unborn child to be anywhere near Seth either.

     Mom and Dad worked
on their cover story for a few days before breaking the news to their friends.
They told everyone Mom was pregnant but due to her age and previous
complications with me, she would have to move out of town to be closer to a
specialist. They kept the answers vague when asked where we were moving to.
They didn’t want any visitors who might see me and learn the truth. Since Dad
had to stay in Springfield because of his business, my part of the story was
easy. I had to move with Mom so she wouldn’t be alone. Their friends were very
supportive, but Hallie took it hard. She put on a brave front, but I could see
the hurt in her eyes and hear the strain in her voice when she visited those
last few times.

     Two weeks later,
we packed up and made the almost four hour drive to Memphis. Dad had us set up
in an apartment not too far from the clinic I would be going to. Dr. Baird had
said they would help keep me stabilized with therapy and medications that were
safe for the baby. He also reminded me the therapy was confidential, but it
made no difference to me. My secret would stay locked away forever.

As time passed, I
slowly got better. My therapist finally found a combination of medications that
kept most of the nightmares away, which stopped the panic attacks. I still
suffered from depression, but it was better. I could actually function. Mom
home schooled me when I felt like it, and I ended up getting a high school diploma.
Dad drove in and took us out to dinner to celebrate. It was nice to go
somewhere besides the therapist’s office and my obstetrics appointments. Dad
usually came in every Friday night and stayed through Sunday. He and Mom would
usually go out one night, but the rest of the weekend was spent as a family.

I had an easy early
pregnancy. I didn’t have much nausea and aside from being tired, I felt normal
physically. Emotionally I felt nothing. Some of that was due to the medication,
but the rest of it was all me. I wasn’t angry at the baby or anything. I think
I was in denial. I just tried not to think about the new life growing inside of
me too much.

Around the third
month of pregnancy, everything changed. My belly started to really grow, and I
found my hands caressing it without even being aware. The first time I felt the
baby move I knew I was in love. I sat very still, hoping to feel it again and
when I did, I couldn’t hold back my tears. It was an amazing feeling.

As my belly slowly
got bigger, so did the love for my child. When we found out the baby was a boy,
we were all so excited, but especially my parents- they had always wanted a
son. Some nights before I fell asleep, I would sing lullabies, but occasionally
I whispered to him how sorry I was for being his mother. He deserved to be born
to someone better than me.

 We didn’t leave the
house much once I really started to show, for fear we would run into someone we
knew. Time passed slowly, but I kept myself occupied. I read books, watched
movies, and explored pregnancy websites on the internet. Hallie called me
weekly and it usually brightened my day. The conversations turned tense for me
when she mentioned college. As the long hot days of summer slowly came to an
end, I tried to sound excited as she went on and on about the new things she
bought for her dorm room, but it all reminded me that my life would never be as
carefree as hers. She mentioned several people from our high school who were
attending the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. One of them was JT. I
cringed at hearing his name. I’d not heard it in almost five months and the
sudden onslaught of memories was almost too much to bear. I barely heard her
voice when she asked if I would visit her there. I managed to answer yes, but
knew I would never step foot on that campus.  

 September finally
rolled around and my apprehension grew with each passing day. I tried to prepare
myself mentally for the tough times ahead, but really, how could I?

Dad came in the weekend
before my due date and went to the big box store for all the baby necessities
we would need. Mom and I were going to have to stay in Memphis for a little
while after I had the baby, just long enough for my belly to return to its
pre-pregnancy state.

Sunday night, after
Dad left, I went to bed with a backache and woke up at 2 am with severe pain in
my lower belly. I rolled over trying to find relief, but it didn’t help. The
pain continued and I held my breath, willing it to end. When it finally stopped,
my breath came out in a giant whoosh. I closed my eyes and tried to go back to
sleep, but the pain hit me again. My entire belly hardened like a rock, and I
yelled out into the darkness, “Mom, I think I’m in labor.”

 She ran into my
room lightning fast. She came to my side and laid her hand on my tight belly. “I’ve
had two strong contractions already,” I said, watching her eyes widen as she
felt my belly relax, the contraction over.

 She swallowed
nervously. “How far apart are they?”

 I shrugged. “It
didn’t feel like much time, five minutes at the most.” I’d barely gotten the
words out before another contraction hit. “It’s happening again,” I panted out
as tears welled up in my eyes.

  Mom snatched her
cell phone from the pocket of her housecoat and called Dad. “It’s time,” I
heard her say. “I’m taking her now.” She hung up and helped me roll out of bed.
She grabbed a pair of sweat pants and helped me get dressed before kneeling
down to put shoes on my swollen feet.

A little sweaty from
her efforts to dress me, she smoothed back her hair and said, “Sit down so I
can go get dressed. You’re going to be fine so just relax.” It surprised me
that her voice sounded so calm. I was anxious from head to toe.

The contractions
came in steady waves, and I knew we needed to get to the hospital soon. Mom
darted back into my room, her purse slung over one shoulder, my overnight bag on
the other. She led me carefully through the apartment and outside to the car.
My whole body shivered as she helped me into the passenger seat. The shivering
wasn’t caused by the crisp fall air. It was caused by fear.

As she reached for
the ignition I grabbed her arm. “You need to drive fast,” I said, the
seriousness of the situation evident in my voice.

 She didn’t hesitate
a second longer. She slammed on the gas and we made it to the hospital in less
than ten minutes. She parked in the ER drive and after insisting I stay put,
hustled inside. She didn’t have to worry about me trying to follow after her,
the onslaught of contractions had me paralyzed in pain.

Mom returned with a
wheel-chair-pushing nurse and together, they unloaded me from the car and
gently eased me into the chair. I white-knuckled the arm rests as I closed my
eyes and tried a technique I’d learned from a pregnancy website. It supposedly
helped take your mind off the pain. I began to imagine myself on a beach where
the sun warmed my face, and the steady sound of waves lapping the shoreline
soothed my ears. After a few minutes, I gave up. It wasn’t working. All I could
concentrate on were the waves of pain crashing over my entire belly.

They wheeled me into
a private birthing suite that looked more like a hotel room, with the exception
of the medical equipment. The nurse, Susan, patted my hand and told me she was
there to help me. I wanted to smile as I looked into her kind face, but the
pain and fear I felt kept my teeth gritted. She and Mom helped me out of my
clothes and into a hospital gown, before easing me into the bed. Several people
scrambled around, hooking me up to all sorts of machines: a blood pressure cuff
on one arm, two belt type things around my bare belly, and an IV in the other
arm. I didn’t even flinch as the needle entered my arm; that pain was nothing
compared to the other I felt.

Susan explained to
us what the belts on my belly were for. One monitored the baby’s heart rate
while the other, my contractions. I listened to the steady “thump, thump” of my
son’s heartbeat coming from the machine in awe. In just a little while I would
be holding him in my arms.

     Susan leaned
down close to my face. Her breath smelling of cinnamon. “I’m going to give you
something to ease your pain as soon as the doctor checks you.”

 I managed a smile
at this. All the nurses left the room, and Mom scooted her chair close to my
bed. She reached over and brushed the sweaty hair from my forehead. “His heart
sounds strong,” she said with a tearful smile.

 I panted out, “Yes,
it does,” between my contractions.

A few minutes later,
an older, gray headed woman walked into the room. She smiled as she approached
my bed. “Hello, Kaitlyn. I’m Dr. Lee, and I’m going to check to see how you are
progressing.” I tried to relax, but the pain had taken its toll on me. I was
ready for some relief.

After she finished
the exam, she informed us that I was almost ready. She stripped off her gloves
and came around to the head of the bed. The look on her face was grim, and I
knew I wasn’t going to like what she had to say. “Katie, it’s too late to give
you any pain medication. You’ve progressed too far. You’re going to have to be
strong and do this on your own.”

 Could she not
see the sweat rolling down my face and realize what she wanted me to do was
more than I could handle?
There was no way I could do this without drugs. “I-I can’t. It hurts too much,”
I stammered out.

 She reached out and
grasped my hand firmly as her eyes bored into mine. “You can do this. You have
to, sweetie. Now, I’ll be back in about an hour and then together, we’ll bring
your sweet baby into this world.”

 I nodded my head as
tears streamed down my face. The doctor gave me one final smile before leaving
the room.

Mom leaned over and
kissed me on the forehead. She took my hand in hers and squeezed it. “Katie,
it’s almost over, honey. You just have to hang in there a little bit longer and
then the pain will be over.”

 I closed my eyes
and thought about what was going to happen once my son was born. Mom was wrong.
The real pain was only beginning.

***

     Asher Wesley
Crane came into the world at 7:30 am on September 21
^st
, and he was
beautiful. He had a rosy color to his skin, blue eyes, and a round head with
just a tiny bit of light colored hair. I knew one thing for sure; his lungs
were fine. He cried so loudly I thought he was in pain. Mom reassured me it was
normal and I guess it was, because once they put him in my arms, he stopped.

From start to
finish, I’d only had to endure five hours of labor. Nurse Susan’s kind words of
encouragement throughout the ordeal had given me the strength to do what I had
to do. That last hour was the worst hour of my life. The pain was indescribable,
and I was left completely exhausted- physically, mentally, and emotionally.

 The nurses had whisked
him away to the nursery with Mom hot on their heels. Susan held my hand while
Dr. Lee finished up with me and only left once my dad rushed into the room. He
made a beeline straight for me, a giant grin on his face. He told me he had
made it in time for the delivery but had stayed in the waiting room until Asher
was born.

 With tears in his
eyes, he kissed my cheek. “You did good, pumpkin.”

 I knew Dad really
wouldn’t have wanted me to have my first child like this, but Asher was here,
and he was already loved so much. My heart broke at the sight of Dad’s glowing
face. Asher was theirs now. I had to let him go. Silent tears rolled down my
cheeks as I closed my eyes. I felt him gently brush them away before I found an
escape from my terrible reality in the sleep that finally claimed me.

***

     The remaining
time in Memphis was a very difficult time for me. As we settled Asher into the
apartment, my heart and mind were at war with each other. My heart yearned to
be his mother, but my mind knew I could only be his sister. The torment got
worse when my milk came in. The desire to nurse my son was almost overwhelming,
but my parents kept it in check for me. They didn’t think it was a good idea for
my mental health or for Asher. They were afraid it might confuse him.

As the days passed
and my unused milk dried up, I found myself crying uncontrollably. I suffered
more heartbreak every time I heard him cry in the night and went to him. I
wanted to be the one who comforted him and rocked him back to sleep, but Mom
wouldn’t allow it. She told me over and over that it was for the best, but it sure
didn’t feel like it. It felt like my heart was in Asher’s tiny little hands, and
I knew deep down that I would never get it back.  

***

We moved back to
Springfield when Asher was a month old. My mental health had taken a turn for
the worse, and I was put back into intensive therapy with stronger medications.
I continued to keep the secret about JT to myself. The nightmares and panic
attacks returned with a vengeance. So now, my parents not only had to take care
of my son, they had to take care of me too. He wasn’t the only one keeping them
up at night.

Thanksgiving came
and went along with Christmas. I barely recognized myself in the mirror
anymore. I’d lost weight and my once vibrant hair now looked dull and lifeless.
Dark circles under my eyes were a constant reminder of my lack of sleep, and I had
almost forgotten what it was like to smile.

As I stared at the
shell of my former self, I made a decision. I had to get away from my parents,
Asher and my hometown. I knew I would never get better if I stayed here, so I
enrolled myself in the winter semester at Union University. I still felt drawn
to that college even though I had no idea why. I had no plans in place. I was simply
trying to survive.

My parents were very
upset, but I informed them this was the only way for me to keep my sanity. They
discussed it with Dr. Baird, who amazingly sided with me but only if I stayed
on all my medications. I reluctantly agreed and my parents finally gave in but only
on one condition- that I live in an apartment off-campus. They didn’t think I
could handle dorm life. They insisted on paying all my bills so I could focus
on my studies, or so they said. A part of me thought they were doing this out
of guilt, but I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted to be gone.

***

Two weeks later we
loaded up most of what I owned into both cars and headed to Jackson. Dad had
managed to find me a furnished, one bedroom apartment in a decent neighborhood
not too far from school. We spent the day getting me settled and as I walked
them back to their car that cold January afternoon, I could no longer hold back
the tears that had been threatening to fall all day. My parents held me in
their arms and cried along with me. As my tears continued to fall, I kissed my almost
four month old son on his cheek and watched as they got into their car and
drove away, taking my heart along with them.