Tough Decisions

The only thought on my brain since finding out has been whether to share the news with the father of this baby, or keep it all to myself and make any important decisions…alone.

Then I think about the decision itself. Am I going to have this baby? Or the alternative, am I going to abort this baby?

I’ve always been Pro-Choice, but then it’s so easy to be pro-choice when it isn’t my body, my baby, my moral delimma. I sit and cry because the decision is too much to bear alone. I may be unsure about how I feel about being pregnant, about having a baby at forty-four years old (because I will be forty-four by the time this child is born,) but one thing I am absolutely sure about is that the decision to abort this baby will scar my soul and mark my psyche in a way I’m unwilling to consider. Leaving my only option to tell the father because at some point it does become his decision as well.

So, how do I tell the man I barely know that I am disruptting the marvelous, insanely fast paced romance that has only been in progress two months? It hardly matters that he wants to marry me … to spend the rest of his life with me.

I remember only the words he said when we talked those first sweet moments on the phone … pre-dating, pre-relationship: “I don’t have any children, I don’t want any.”

The bigger fear, even bigger than the news that I am pregnant becomes, what if he doesn’t want this baby? What if he insists on an abortion? What if I say no? Can I do this again …alone?

The question now is not, do I want to raise a baby at forty-four years old? But, do I want to raise a baby at forty-four …alone?