What Are My Options?: My Reaction to Learning I Was Unexpectedly Pregnant

The following is adapted from Finding Hope by Hope O Baker.

“You’re pregnant,” the nurse told me, her voice soft. Like she was walking on eggshells. Like she knew what she said might break me, even before she said it. I couldn’t look at her.

I’d come to the clinic because I knew I wasn’t feeling well. Something wasn’t right, and I’d been trying to figure it out for weeks, months maybe. I’d gone to two different clinics, but never once had anyone tested my urine for pregnancy. I hadn’t thought to, either, because of my medical history. I’d been on the Depo shot in the past, which had stopped my periods. I just didn’t think of being pregnant.

Neither did the doctors, apparently. In fact, they gave me a CT scan in the beginning of my pregnancy, but ultimately they said I was probably paranoid given my mom’s diagnosis. They called it phantom pain. Eventually, they treated me for a severe urinary tract infection, mostly, but it wasn’t helping. I’d just returned from an x-ray, as the doctor was trying to determine the cause of my symptoms. My mother — who had just been diagnosed with breast cancer and was fighting her own battles — sat in a different room to wait, likely fearing the worst.

Instead of a tumor, though, they found a baby.

Pregnant? I thought. What? I’d never thought that was possible.

“Wait, what?” I asked, this time aloud.

“The x-ray technician who did your procedure saw a skeleton on the scan,” she said. “And we’ve now tested your urine. It’s positive for pregnancy.”

A skeleton? I can’t believe they used that word.

“Where is my mom?” I managed to choke out between tears as I rocked back and forth in the bed, cradling myself. “What are my options?”

I repeated those two questions over and over. They were the only words I had.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was twenty-one years old and in college. I didn’t think kids were ever part of my plan. I had no clue what to do. Disbelief and shock rocked me to my core.

Before finding the skeleton — which still bothers me, to this day, that they worded it that way — the doctor had me on an IV because my kidneys were failing. As soon as they discovered I was pregnant, the nurse rushed to switch the medication in the drip.

The nursing staff quickly sent me down for an ultrasound. Upon arrival, the technician spoke to me about God during the entire examination. I was crying uncontrollably, unable to look at the screen, as she continued to explain that this situation was a gift. She told me stories about her son, who was once “living in sin” and had gotten his girlfriend pregnant. She went on to tell me they’d gotten married, had the baby, and done “the right thing.” Throughout the examination, she’d stop every so often to cry and tell me point blank that this was one of God’s children, and this baby was God’s gift to me.

I didn’t know I needed to be saved.

I did know I had just learned I was over twenty weeks pregnant. Yes, twenty.

I was vulnerable, still in shock, and would have given anything to get out of that room with that woman. The woman I wanted was my mother, who had been told I was moved to ultrasound, but not why — likely making her fear that I had cancer all the more real. I asked if she could be in the room with me while a nurse explained the situation. I wanted us all to be there together so everything could be clear.

That didn’t happen.

When I finally made it back to my room and my mom walked in, I didn’t have to tell her the news. The nurses already had, against my wishes.

My mom looked at me then, and I could see her heart break for me. There’s this face my mom makes when she’s going to cry but is holding it back, and she made that face then. She held my hand, acting as my advocate. She said we would look at all our options and make an educated decision based on the information we had. All we wanted was more information. We both asked a version of “What are my options” at least eight times, but the nurse and the OB doctor on call only answered with statements like, “You’re halfway done,” or “There are people out there who would want this child.”

I couldn’t stop shaking. My mom was getting pissed.

The doctor then said I should be checked in to the hospital immediately to be started on medicine and receive prenatal care. She added that a social worker would come talk to me about adoption — which I’d never once requested. My mom saw the look of fear and hurt on my face. The Christian rhetoric, the over-the-top language, the refusal to answer my questions — it was too much. I had to get out of there.

That night, my mom took care of me. Together, we researched the options they wouldn’t tell me about in the office. We made calls, even reaching out to organizations to help with costs associated with not only the abortion, but travel, etc. We found so many resources and so much support. We learned there was a clinic in Kansas City that would perform abortions past twenty weeks, and we decided I would go there.

In the end, I had a change of heart, and I placed my son for adoption. I opted for the open route, and I met (and even lived with) my son’s adoptive mother before he was born. I knew it was the right decision for my son’s life at the time, even if it didn’t feel best for mine. It was important, though, that it was my decision.

Don’t ever let someone else force you into a choice, because you will be the one that lives with the consequences. Take your time, think it through, and explore your options. No decision is going to be easy, and sometimes the deepest hell is the one that you had to consciously choose.

What matters is that people go through the pain, find the best option they can, and eventually, hopefully, at the end of all that pain, they can be confident that they did what they had to do. I’m here to tell you that there’s light through all that pain, even if it’s hard to see sometimes.

For more advice on coping with an unexpected pregnancy, you can find Finding Hope on Amazon.

After placing her newborn son for adoption in 2013, Hope O Baker struggled with depression, addiction, and overcoming the stigma that surrounds birthmothers. In her first book, Finding Hope: A Birthmother’s Journey Into the Light, she shares her story of a successful, open adoption — and all the heartache and light that came along the way. Hope is a passionate advocate for those on all sides of adoption. You can find her online at HopeOBaker.com or follow her on Instagram at @HopeOBaker. Hope visits her son regularly, and she currently lives with her loving partner and her wonderful stepkids.