If anyone told me eight years ago that my life would be as it is now, I would have scoffed. Never could I imagine that someone who made my life complicated, difficult and stressful could now be making my life bearable and even fun. January 2012, I was in the second semester of my freshman year as a student-athlete at an HBCU I will not name. MLK weekend approached. For me, it was the last hurrah before I had to start traveling for games and buckling down to manage my new responsibilities and maintain a good enough GPA to keep that scholarship. I learned a lot of hard lessons that weekend. I was blessed and cursed with high alcohol tolerance, and I found that out at a young age. Essentially, I never knew my limit, and in the arrogance of my youth, I was invincible. My floormates and I planned on heading to a party held in one of the residence halls. We would start the night pre-gaming in our rooms as we got dolled up, finishing about a liter of Smirnoff strawberry before we left, pouring some concoction in water bottles we took with us. On our way to the party, we met classmates from other dorms and exchanged mysterious candy-colored liquids from water bottles, jugs, and containers on the way. By this time, I’m tipsy and ready to dance. We get there, enjoy ourselves, but the night was still very young. I’d heard there would be a kickback with my teammates there, and a friend at the time was going, so off I went. We approached the house, and I was taken aback by how dark it was initially, but I saw a few familiar faces as I went into the kitchen. I was offered a drink; a red solo cup filled halfway with straight peach flavored Cîroc. Now, I was invincible (and a show-off), and in a matter of seconds, that cup was empty. I met a few people that lived in the house, all older than me, but they seemed harmless and were familiar with my friends, so I figured everything would be fine. After marveling at my drinking prowess, they challenged me to drink some more, and before I knew it, I’d consumed the entire bottle. I came there with a girl I’d considered a friend at the time who would alternate drinking days with me. A good friend in this situation would have gotten me the fuck up out of there, but no, the clout she was gaining by being with the fun girl who could keep drinking was too delicious to refuse. I wandered upstairs to see my teammates, danced and flirted with this football player, and (what felt like) 30 minutes later, and I was in a fog. I remember telling myself to sit down, but then someone approached me.
The rest of the night comes back to me in flashes. I have no idea how I got downstairs, but I remember being on a bed, then a jacket and a tattoo. The next thing I remember was being carried into a car, driven back to my dorm, crawling to my floor alone, and a different friend trying to make me throw up. The next day, I thought the worst of it was behind me; boy, was I wrong. I woke up, drank some water, used the bathroom, and to my horror, a filled condom fell out. What the hell was I supposed to do now? What exactly happened that night before? I had to do something, so I concocted a lie to my mom about an antibiotic that I needed cash for, got $60, and bought a plan B. In retrospect, I’m such a terrible liar. I think she knew I was full of shit. I figured I was in the clear; I was young and healthy and took it within the suggested timeframe. Was I able to put this ugly thing behind me? Nope, not even close, but we’ll get to that later.
I was always ballsy, so I wanted to confront the guy who took me into the room and took advantage of me. I did, he apologized, and we agreed to put it behind us. A little while later, I started feeling strange. I was having strange abdominal pain, odd discharge, and various other vaginal phenomena. I recalled my encounter and realized I never got tested and panicked. Did I have an STD? I made the mistake of googling my symptoms, and it sent me straight to the student health center in a frenzy. I waited for what felt like hours in the waiting room but had a practice that day, so eventually, I left without being seen. I kept feeling so strange, and I thought I was dying, so I confided all that occurred to a girl I made friends with on my floor. She felt for me, and unfortunately, it was late at night, and I couldn’t go to the student health center. That’s when she suggested that we rule out pregnancy. It never dawned on me that it would be possible after taking a plan b, but whatever, it wouldn’t hurt to rule out. I peed on the stick, and within seconds that tiny digital screen read “PREGNANT.”
I saw my life flash before my eyes, took a breath, and knew that any choice I made at that juncture would change my life. Inconsolable, I cried to my RA and my close friends on campus. I couldn’t think or breathe; I was angry and afraid. I didn’t know what to do, so I called him (someone anonymously texted me his number from the previous incident) and begrudgingly told him I was pregnant. I don’t know what I expected to happen next, but he responded that he would pay me whatever I needed to get rid of it. At this point, I felt my stomach in my throat as I never wanted to have an abortion, and I didn’t know who I would be afterward. I was already on thin ice with my mental health, and I didn’t know if I could take another traumatic event in my life (another convo for another time).
Time passed, and after several hospital stays, a few travel games, and almost miscarrying, I decided I wanted this baby, so I had to let him know. He didn’t take it well and spent about a month trying to harass, sway and menace me into aborting this baby. I had many nightmares and was scared to walk around campus. I felt like I was being watched and would purposely leave my phone in the dorm so he couldn’t call me (pregnancy brain had me forget about the block caller button). Finally, after I had enough of the harassment, I told him to leave me alone, and he would never hear from me again. I resolved that I wouldn’t reach out but will still be a mother, good, bad, or indifferent. As you can imagine, the next few weeks, months, and years were a struggle. I didn’t finish school, but I’d attempted to go to a private one near my hometown. I had several minimum wage and service jobs on different occasions trying to make ends meet but thank God for my family’s help.
It wasn’t all bad; I’d been blessed with a beautiful baby girl. She is more than I could hope for, she cried and wouldn’t cooperate at bedtime, but she’s such a loving and brilliant little girl. Her being here made the most challenging part of my life the best. We were content with our two-person unit, the mommy and baby show. We were blessed to have familial support and love surrounding us everywhere we went. She drew my family closer and softened up many once hardened hearts. I knew I made the right decision.
I’d heard through the grapevine that her father was in prison for some foolishness he got himself into and was going to be there for at least five years. In his 4th year, the unthinkable happened. He managed to contact a friend of mine and asked for my information so that we could chat. As you can imagine, I was immediately filled with anger, fear, frustration and felt a pain I hadn’t in a long time. My body shook, and I started to sweat. I was not ready at all. I declined; I felt like we had what we needed so he could rot for all I cared. He made more attempts through others over time, and a few months later, he somehow contacted me directly on Instagram. I thought about blocking him, but I realized I had to settle this once and for all. He asked for a phone number so we could speak, I obliged. Some weeks later, I received a phone call from a number I didn’t know and felt compelled to answer it, so I did. It was him.
My body shook again, and I started to sweat with rage, and I could only manage to croak out a weak ass “hello.” It was awkward for a moment, but then he broke the silence. He told me he couldn’t sleep and was haunted by what he did to me. Shamefully I was relieved and glad he was suffering from guilt. He asked a few questions about the Little One. Then I let him have it. I told him we were just fine pretending he didn’t exist, that he should move on and find someone else and start his own family, that I didn’t need his sorry ass sympathy or regret and that we were great despite him. I gave him an out. I hurled every insult that had accumulated in my body from the moment I’d come in contact with this man so many years ago. I let him hear all the hurt I felt but let him understand that he had no obligation to me because I chose to have her. He understood but would not let me get rid of him.
After that conversation, he called more often to check in even when I was mean and cursed him out. He sent gifts for Little One with no expectation that I would tell her who it was from as she still didn’t know about him yet. May 2018, it had to happen. I picked her up from school, parked in front of the house, and I finally told her. I sat in the car with my six-year-old and finally told her she had a father. Her response shocked me because she wasn’t surprised, “Everybody has a dad, mom.” Little One told me she figured she had to have a dad somewhere or she wouldn’t be alive (this kid is sharp). Embarrassed and relieved, I let her ask any questions she had, and I answered them honestly. By the time we left my car, she knew his name, age, and that he was in jail. I asked if she wanted to meet him, but she declined (that answer would change several times over the next few months).
The next year was very touch-and-go, being that he was still incarcerated. In November 2019, I got a call from him telling me he’d been released. I was afraid again because I hadn’t seen this man since that awful time in the past, and I had no idea what condition he would be in after five years locked up. At this time, I was bedridden due to a terrible accident that impaired my walking, so naturally, I had a lot of time to process. One morning in late November, he called, and it was the first real conversation I’d ever had with him. We hashed out the details about what happened that night. He apologized profusely for his actions, and he told me as much about his life as he could fit in 3 hours. This person on the phone was drastically different than the one I’d encountered years ago. He was reflective, remorseful, and adamant about making things right if I would allow it. I needed time and proof that he was serious about this. I could not let him in her life if he were inconsistent or half-assed about this whole thing. So, I told him that there was much work to be done and much to make up for; he accepted my challenge.
Two weeks later, I let them FaceTime each other, and it made me nauseous how much they looked alike. Everything about their faces was the same, mannerisms the same, and even their speech pattern. I was overwhelmed, but I couldn’t turn back now, I let this man in, and I had to prepare for the best and worst-case scenarios actively. Either A, he would end up a great father, or B, get bored being a father and go back to being a deadbeat. Either way, I needed to be there to help the Little One process all of this. I wasn’t back in school because of a debt I owed, and due to the accident, the chances of that debt getting paid down were zero. It was also about to be Christmas, and I was in a panic. My temporary disability had yet to arrive, and I couldn’t get unemployment and any savings I had up until that point was gone (the accident happened in October). I prayed, cried, and prayed; I felt useless for the first time because I knew I couldn’t make the holidays as exciting as Little One needed them to be. Little did I know, he asked her what she wanted Santa to bring for Christmas. He asked me what she might like and stuff, but I didn’t expect anything. It felt like for two weeks, Amazon packages were coming in, and I had to hide them before she saw them frantically. I know holidays are not about gifts, but I knew that she would be excited. All the gifts were very thoughtful and precisely what she wanted or would like, he even sent them wrapped, and gift bagged. He asked me what I wanted, and I said nothing at the time. I just wanted him to do right by her.
Not too long after this Christmas stunt, right after the New Year, I was stressed. I wanted to go back to school, but it seemed impossible. We had a conversation about it, and he asked the amount. Then without hesitation, he offered to pay for it. I am a proud person, so accepting help is difficult for me, but I agreed and sent him the information. My expectations were low; maybe he would forget, maybe he would pay a portion, maybe it won’t happen. By the next afternoon, my balance was zero. I cried. It felt surreal; so many things were hanging over me, and for the first time, I felt light. I thanked him and enrolled in my original school. He had been consistent in calling her at least 3x a week. She often didn’t answer, but he still did it anyway and did my best to encourage her to get to know him. I would ask her daily if he called, and she was very nonchalant about it all. After a while, the conversations between them flowed a bit more naturally, and she started to call him at times as well. July 2020 approached, and he was finally free to travel. He decided he wanted to see us. I expected this to happen, but I was still nervous and afraid. I didn’t think I would be ready to face him in person. I wasn’t the victory story; I wanted to show that I was unfazed by my circumstances. I was kind of broke, overweight, self-conscious, and scared. At this point, I was working overnights; 3 12 hour shifts and one 6-hour shift that ended at 7 am every week. I was tired, but I had the time to facilitate the meeting. The day came, and I was frantic. I still didn’t completely forgive him, and I had no idea who this man was or what his character was like. He flew to where I live and arrived at my housing complex in a rented black dodge charger. I had to let him into the building, so I approached the vehicle, and out he steps, obviously nervous and more human than the last time I saw him. I croaked out a weak ass “hi” and instructed him to follow me to the apartment. Little One knew he was coming, so there was no surprise there, but she was nervous. He stepped into the apartment, and they made eye contact. She screamed and closed herself in my room frantically. I had him sit in the living room while I went to console my child. The first thing out of her mouth was, “Mommy, why does that man have my face?” It was true. The resemblance was uncanny; it was so on the nose I couldn’t help but laugh. After a quick lesson on genetics and inquiry as to why she was surprised (she’d seen him on FaceTime for months), we went to the living room. The air in the room was thick, there he was looking at her in awe, and she looked at him nervously but with excitement. She extended her hand for a handshake, and that broke the tension immediately. Slowly she eased back into her normal, quirky, and energetic self. They took to each other wonderfully, and he explained that he intended on being in the area for a few days and that we should plan some outings. After he left, exhausted by the events of the day, Little One knocked out, and I was alone to process what just happened. The next morning, he called and asked if I could do a paternity test to make sure. This irritated the shit out of me but, I agreed even though I knew the truth. He let me choose the testing center, and about an hour later, we headed over there. I don’t know what it is about situations like these, I knew the truth, but I couldn’t help but be nervous about the whole thing. I played out several scenarios in my mind where the result came back that he wasn’t the father, and my palms started to sweat. I asked him what he would do if the results came back and he wasn’t the father, and he replied, “I would have rather tried to make it right and then find out she wasn’t mine, Instead of not trying at all and never knowing.” Hearing him say that calmed my nerves a bit. Despite my certainty that he was the father, I have a wild and torturous imagination. We got the test done. It was a quick and painless process. The technician looked at the two of them and was baffled as to why we were in there in the first place because they looked so much alike. It also struck me that they had the same initials, which was entirely coincidental because I didn’t know his full name. After the test, we had lunch at her favorite restaurant. He took her shopping, we ate, and then he took her shopping again. It dawned on me that he was certain she was his as well after spending time with her. The test was a formality so that he could have proof.
The next day, he took us to the aquarium because Little One is obsessed with animals, and later we ate seafood at this restaurant on the water. He got a call that one of his friends from school years ago was having a barbecue and asked if we minded going. I decided it was harmless and would give Little One more time with him, so I obliged. We get to the barbecue, and my arm hairs stood up. From the car, I looked at the faces there and recognized many from that night years ago. After a while, I finally got out with Little One in tow and was received a lot warmer than I expected. I was offered food and drinks; everyone was glad to meet Little One, and she went along and played with the other children. Odd as it sounds, it felt nice being there, the three of us. All my apprehension dissipated, and I felt myself relax cracking jokes with his brother and in conversation with the wives of his friends. Once we left, I was overwhelmed. It was awkward and silent for the first 10 minutes of the 30-minute ride back. I guess it dawned on him who was present and how uncomfortable I might feel, so he offered more details about his side of what happened. I was the prize of a pissing match between friends. He and his friend were rivals, and when his friend spoke to me and got my number, he wanted to win. Hopped up on drugs and drunk from insane amounts of alcohol, he approached me, and the rest was history. I really could have done without that explanation, but I understood it came from guilt and regret. I felt for him a little bit, every decision he made created complications in his life, and they haunted him. I no longer hated him or wanted to torture him; he was suffering enough. He honestly was suffering long before we crossed paths.
The Wednesday after he left, we got the results. She was 99.99987% his child. As time went on, I guess he realized I wasn’t a shitty person and that I had some experience getting through difficult times, and we would talk often. I think we both realized that we had a lot more in common interest and personality-wise than we desired to believe. It would have been simpler if he were a monster who wanted to prey on me or just an all-around bad person. To see him as a human who feels regret and shame was jarring and unexpected. I assumed he would be angry and aggressive, but he was gentle and soft-spoken.
A year has passed since their first meeting, and it has been an incredible year for her. I didn’t realize how much Little One longed for that piece of her, that completed family picture. He decided to help me financially on his own and has been consistent. We speak daily about life, goals, and Little One. He flew us to his home to spend the holidays with his family, and we had a fantastic time. We’ve had great moments as a unit and great moments alone. For the first time, I feel supported and cared for, and Little One is spoiled rotten. We aren’t romantically involved, but I have a unique love for him. I am proud of his growth and my own. This whole ordeal has worked out better than I could even imagine. He showers Little One and me with gifts, attention, and time and takes the initiative to solve problems before they become problems. We come to each other with our dilemmas, and it’s nice to have a person who wants to be there around. I tried to distance myself and shake him loose on several occasions, but he won’t let me. It is a complicated situation that I’m in, but I’m finally enjoying it.
