No Matter What

Unpacking

I made some boxed mac and cheese for the both of us. I needed to change the conversation. This was all too new and too scary to keep talking about. I needed some junk food and some TV to quell my anxiety.

After Connor and I watched a few hours of TV, his mom came to pick him up. I was left alone in the house as usual, but now feeling suddenly more boxed in because Connor brought all the years and years of clutter to my attention. There was so much of this we needed to unpack, mentally and physically.

I cleaned the rest of our dishes and started running the dishwasher. After that, I put on my headphones before I got the crusted, cheesy pot soaking, then walked my shaky self over to my backpack. I picked up one of my spiral notebooks, tore a piece of paper out, then found myself at the kitchen table, staring into a void of nerves.

I couldn't get past, "Dear Dad." Somehow I thought it would be easy to write a letter to my dad, telling him his little girl was eighteen and pregnant with high-risk twins.

"I think I should just get straight to the point," I said to myself.

Dear Dad,

There's no easy way to say this, but I'm pregnant. I'm so sorry if you're disappointed in me. You know how the doctors told Connor he can't have kids? Well, he can. To make matters worse, and I hate to break this to you: it's twins. Even worse than that, the twins are really rare and high risk.

Doctor Andrews told me they only have a 50% chance of making it long enough to be born (I'm almost 10 weeks and need to make it to 24). I thought about abortion but I don't think I wan't one. Connor wants to keep them so badly and I feel like I can't break his heart. I'm starting to get attached to them, too.

I'm so sorry, Dad. I'm sure this is so humiliating for your reputation. I'm sure you're beyond disappointed in me. I hope you kindly find it in your heart to let me and the twins stay here, if they make it. The picture in the envelope is an ultrasound from today.

-Ayla

P.S. The twins are identical.

Once I was done word-vomiting all over that paper, I folded it up, threw it into an envelope, and wrote "Dad, please read ASAP" in huge letters. I placed it on the tupperware of his leftovers that I knew he'd be eating once he finally got home from the conference.

There. That was it. My note was done. I thought I'd have a big "weight-lifted-off-my-shoulders" kind of feeling, but I definitely didn't. It was all kinds of dread, because now he'd find it. Then he'd talk to me and it would be super embarrassing and uncomfortable.

With the time getting late and school in the morning getting closer, I needed to finish getting the mac and cheese pot cleaned and then go to bed, which was exactly what I did. Didn't sleep, but that was expected. I turned on a Podcast about the new Mars rover and ended up drifting off at some point. Of course, this was just to be woken up five minutes later, or what felt like it.

"Ayla, wake up," Dad said.

I flicked my lamp on. He was still dressed in the dress clothes he usually wore to conferences. The letter was all crumpled up in his hands, right in the middle, like he was squeezing the guts out of it.

"Is this true?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I know I really let you down."

"Let me down?" He came over to my bed and sat down at the edge of it. "Everyone makes mistakes, but you're my little girl, and to me, you're perfect no matter what. You'll never let me down."

"You're not mad? You're really, seriously, not mad?" I asked.

He sighed. "Believe it or not, I almost became a teen dad. I was being an idiot my first year of college and got a girl pregnant. We were both only nineteen. She had an abortion, though. It was the right choice for us."

"Oh," I said, looking away.

"But, that's not the choice for you and Connor, and that's okay."

"I'm just really surprised that you're not mad. I thought you'd be really upset with me," I said.

"I'm stressed. I don't know what we're going to do," he said. "Twins? Identical twins?"

"I know. I can't believe it either," I said. "Connor and I wrote down some notes for what we want to do. We have school figured out for next year."

He shook his head. "Oh Ayla, I wish I could tell you that taking care of kids was as easy as following a sheet of notes...but enough of that. Are you feeling okay?"

"No."

"Great. Me either. Glad we're on the same page." He patted me on the shoulder. "I love you, kid."

"Love you too, Dad," I said.

"I'll let you get some rest. We can talk some more tomorrow night," he said, walking out of my room. "Do you need me to pick anything up for you at the store on my way home from work?"

"Uh...I got a paper," I said, pulling it from my drawer and handing it to him. "Doctor Andrews wants me to take some vitamins. So I guess I need these."

"Of course. Your mom had to take vitamins too. I'll make sure to get them." He walked over to the door and put his hand on the doorknob. "Goodnight."

"'Night, Dad."

He shut the door, then I flicked the light off and stared up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. I set them up in a particular way, to make out all my favorite constellations. My hand found its way to my bloated stomach and I patted it a few times, then quickly took my hand away. I was so afraid that any wrong twist or tap, any bump or nudge, would cause their umbilical cords to get twisted up. I didn't want anything bad to happen to them because of me.

I tried to turn my podcast back on and fall asleep, but it wasn't working. My anxiety level was through the roof. I grabbed my phone and started doing research about my special twins. I was hoping it would put my mind at ease so I could finally get some sleep. After what I was reading, needless to say, it didn't.