The Mocking Red Lines

I remember clearly how blank I was when the test showed the two mocking red lines. I was pregnant! And when I say blank, I don’t mean mixed emotions or confused or whatever. I mean blank. I didn’t know what to say or if I should even say anything because if there was anything I knew at that point, it was that I wasn’t ready for the change that those two mocking red lines implied. And so I got home and took even more tests (like any pregnant girl in denial would do) telling myself that the first one was definitely “faulty”. And we all know how this story goes. I got even more red lines staring me in the face and that’s when I knew, it’s serious.

The following days were more or less a daze. Some moments were crazy scary, others depressing while others were just nothing but glorious numbness. My parents finally got to know within my first week of being at home and that’s when things got really real. My parents are the most loving people I know and they are incredibly warm and kind. But this one outright broke them and it was all my fault. The moment you are face-to-face with the pain of breaking your mum’s heart and seeing disappointment written all over your dad’s face is the moment you realize just how far you’ve fallen from their trust and expectations of you. And that’s what defined the lowest moment in my life.

Needless to say, it was a difficult few months as my family got to understand the situation and come to terms with the fact that I was one more statistic on the list of kids who go out of their parents’ sight and just spectacularly screwed it all up. And that was me. When I’d be in the house, many days were spent in my room crying in complete and utter depression, lost in the darkness of sadness that I had created for myself. I’d read online and occasionally watch stories about how it was going to be okay but I wasn’t buying any of that. I wanted desperately to believe it but I couldn’t.

Fast forward many many many months later, my child is big and healthy, goes to school now and I love every moment of being her mum. I found my God again and it’s great how, looking back, HE was there all along, loving me and taking care of me despite the dark lonely pit I was in.

Why am I writing this? Because it’s true when they say that it gets better. And while this short and insanely summarized story tells a very small fraction of my story, I hope that later posts will add some flesh to it and show you that it will be terribly difficult to see the ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ but trust me when I say, it’s there and it’s real as those two mocking red lines.