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It would break their hearts to know I would be a single mother.
My mother, always the logical one, leaned forward, her eyes filled with questions.
"So, when is this engagement party, and what are the plans?"
I leaned in closer and faked excitement to share the details of the upcoming celebration.
"The party is in two weeks and will be a grand affair. There will be a reception with Family and close friends attending. I want both of you to celebrate this special moment with me."
I had dreamed of something like this and let my imagination run wild as I explained how it would go. By the end, I had almost convinced myself I’d be getting engaged and would enjoy this party soon.
My parents exchanged glances, and my mother grinned.
"We wouldn't miss it for the world, Elizabeth. We'll be there, and we'll bring our dancing shoes!"
We continued to talk and laugh, sharing stories and making plans for the engagement party. A party my supposed partner knew nothing about. Despite the lies I couldn't stop sharing, there’s an overwhelming sense of happiness and unity.
The moon hung high in the midnight sky, casting a soft, silvery glow over my parents' front porch. I sat there in the stillness, wrapped in my thoughts and the cool night air.
The weight of my fake engagement and the news of my pregnancy left me confused, excited, and terrified. I needed some quiet time to sort through my emotions. And the lies. So many lies.
As I sat there, lost in thought, I didn't hear my mother approach. She‘d brought two mugs and a bottle of wine.
I began to refuse, not wanting to indulge in alcohol while pregnant, but then she showed me that it was non-alcoholicwine, so I accepted the mug with a faint smile and watched as she poured it into the mug.
My mother settled into the chair beside me, her gaze soft and understanding.
She knew something was bothering me, and she was giving me the space to open up when I was ready.
For a moment, I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to burden her with my fears and uncertainties and not wanting to lie to her anymore. But the silence between us was comforting, and I knew I could trust her with my deepest thoughts.
Finally, she asked quietly, "Is there something wrong, Elizabeth?“
I sighed. "It's not that there’s anything wrong, Mom. I'm just not tired enough for bed yet?"
She sipped from her mug and nodded, but I could sense her curiosity. She knew there was more to my restlessness than a simple case of insomnia.
I waited a few minutes, then looked down at my mug, my fingers tracing the rim.
"Okay, maybe there is something on my mind."
My mother patiently waited, occasionally taking a sip, allowing me to speak in my own time.
I took a deep breath and confessed.
"I'm scared, Mom. Scared about having a baby. Scared about what comes next."
My mother listened intently, her presence a soothing balm to my anxieties.
"It's okay to be scared, Elizabeth. Pregnancy is a big step, and it comes with its own set of uncertainties."
Tears rose as I continued.
"I'm scared about meeting Alexander's family. What if they don't accept me? What if they think I'm not good enough for him? Or that I’m using him?"
My mother reached out and gently placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Elizabeth, listen to me. Your fears are completely normal. I was scared when I found out I was pregnant with you, too. But I trusted your father, and we faced it together."
