This pregnancy was unplanned, though I admit the sex was unprotected. I have never been very good in that department; I've been having unprotected sex since I was 16, over the course of 4 serious relationships. It took 14 years for a sperm to finally pin down my egg. And the moment I learned I was pregnant, my world crashed.
I had never really wanted kids. I'd talked about it with girlfriends, joked about getting pregnant together, discussed it with previous boyfriends. My high school sweetheart once told me (during one of our many breaks) that I would be an awful mother. And I agreed with him. I'm an independent person, and I expect the people around me to be also. I don't like to rely on other people, and I really don't like people to rely on me. I'm borderline OCD when it comes to things being in their place (and yes, everything has a place). I lack patience, and I've always been intimidated by children. So when I saw 2 pink lines, I grabbed a pillow, curled up on the couch, and cried like it was going out of style. When I was finally able to pull myself together, I called Matt. And for the first four months of my pregnancy, I regretted that decision. On a daily basis, I questioned why I told him and why I didn't get an abortion. Because two days before I saw those two pink lines, I had decided to stop dating Matt.
We had been dating for about 5 months. A couple weeks prior, we had engaged in a lengthy conversation about our future together. He most definitely wanted kids, and I was nearly 100% sure I never would. We had horrible communication issues, I felt like he didn't quite 'get me', and we couldn't be more opposite in terms of personal finance practices. He didn't want to end the relationship; he ended the conversation by simply asking "Do you care enough to put in the effort?" After a lot of soul searching, I came to the conclusion that, no, I didn't care enough. I didn't believe that a relationship requiring so much effort was a relationship that should exist.
For four months, I punished him for getting me pregnant. I made snide remarks attacking his character, I showed no affection, I stopped smiling, but mostly, I just didn't talk. We would still see each other twice a week, but I would basically ignore him. But four months later, when I was ready to let him in and put in the effort, he was right there. I wouldn't say he was there with open arms and a smile, but he was there. And that was probably more than I deserved.
I've always believed that everything happens for a reason. We may not realize what that reason is for days, months, or many years, but eventually we are able to say "This is why I had to go through that". It's taken me almost one year to realize this, but I believe that the life purpose of this one little sperm was to keep me with the right guy when I was too selfish to put in the effort myself.