By Paula Drake
“Oh, no, I’m expecting again! Not a good time to have a second child,” I sighed. Already wallowing in despair after discovering my husband sold and used drugs, I fell deeper in after finding out about my pregnancy.
Being a latchkey fatherless teen drove me to find a man to love me way before I could see the future of my decision. But I certainly could see it now.
Raised a church girl, believing in Jesus as my savior, and even rededicating my life to the Lord at 12 made this new way of life scary and foreboding. I hid the drug dilemma from everyone.
Bringing another child into the world during such a grim time in my marriage threw me into a deep depression. I tried to “lose” the child. Since I would never think of abortion, I started strenuous bike treks, jogged, dove recklessly into pools—any activity that could possibly cause a miscarriage. Nothing worked. I plunged further into despair as I felt the child moving in my womb.
One day while driving me home from a store, my Godly grandmother mentioned getting some baby clothes.
“Dina, considering you’re six months along, how about shopping for baby clothes today?” asked Grandma.
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