Life... Before and After Cerebral Palsy: We are Their Voices...

By Tammy T Floyd-Westmoreland

Life before and after Cerebral Palsy: We Are Their Voices is based on real life events. In this story, the author, Tammy, takes us on a whirlwind of events and one heck of a roller-coaster ride. She allows us in her life to show us what it was like being a young, teen mother of a child with a disability. She talks about the trials and tribulations of being a young mother and dealing with diversity and disappointment. She speaks about how what she went through made her into the woman she is today. She shows us that despite all the challenges in life, that you can still live life and not allow the turmoil of life to keep you down. She hopes that by sharing her story, she will help someone to overcome some hardships and look at life differently.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781641389570

Book preview

Preface

Carefree

I loved my life. At fourteen years old, I was living the average American teenage existence. I lived at home with both of my parents and my two sisters. I was a preacher’s kid with great parents who, while instilling Christian values, allowed me to enjoy being a teenager. Some people thought that since we were the kids of a preacher that we were bad and off the hook. They would say that my father was strict because of our religion. But quite frankly, we were just your normal average kids. We didn’t do any more or any less than the average. We actually had more freedom than most. I must admit that it bothered me being labeled as an off-the-hook kid only because my father loved God and chose to become a preacher. My father was and still is a good man and did his best to instill good values in us. He never wanted us to make any of the same mistakes that he endured as a kid, but despite everything he instilled in us, we still were our own person and mistakes of our own would be made.

I was a varsity cheerleader, an honor roll student, and pretty popular to say the least. Life was going good for me. It was early spring, and my freshman year was ending as a hit! I was enjoying social activities with my friends, prepping new cheers for my sophomore year, envisioning and perfecting my craft because one day, I knew I’d make a great captain of the cheerleading squad. Every day, I would go running up and down our street. I would do stretches and practice my jumps in the front yard. I would ask my older sister to help me with cheers and perfect my jumps. All this prepping and planning to be a cheerleader came to a halt one early spring Saturday morning when I found out that I was pregnant by my unfaithful boyfriend. My heart dropped, and I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. I cried, right on the bathroom floor. This couldn’t be happening to me. Pregnant? Is this thing right? How could God allow something like this to happen to me? A good kid who just got caught up, thinking I was in love. My dumb behind trusted this guy, my boyfriend, when he told me to stand up right after sex and the sperm would come right out. What a fool I was! But in all honesty, I didn’t know much about sex, sperm, and getting pregnant. My parents shied away from that conversation and would just preach, No sex before marriage. I had other friends who were engaging in sex, but pregnancy really never came up. I knew he should have worn a condom, but he assured me that I wouldn’t get pregnant. I was mad at him! But I needed him. I couldn’t share this information with anyone else, so he was all I had.

Instead of prepping and planning for new cheers, my now-immediate focus was prepping and planning for an abortion.

Chapter 1

They Are All I have . . . So I Thought

Abortion (the deliberate termination of a human pregnancy, most often performed during the first twenty-eight weeks of pregnancy) was the only option for me. I could not go to my Christian parents asking for an abortion—hell, I’d have to tell them that I was no longer a virgin first. I didn’t know how to confide in my friends—fear of judgment. I did confide in two of my best friends, Dawn and Qiana. They didn’t turn their backs on me; instead they were very concerned and wondered what my next move would be. They both knew I had to get an abortion but didn’t have the money to do so. This led me to depend on my unfaithful boyfriend and his mother for a life-changing procedure that would never happen. With desperate attempts at trying to cause a miscarriage (the expulsion of a fetus from the womb before it is able to survive independently, spontaneously, or by accident) by default, I tried a couple of dumb options—hitting myself in the stomach with the doorknob and using the end of my banister. Of course I didn’t inflict any harm or pain to myself because I truly wasn’t trying to hurt myself. Yes, I wanted this baby to be gone, but harming myself was idiotic and just not going to happen. I couldn’t inflict pain or harm to myself; who was I kidding? I don’t know how those people in those movies did that. I wasn’t crazy enough, plus, there was no way I was even reaching the fetus inside of me. He or she was so tiny, I would have to be in a fatal accident for something to happen. I did have thoughts of making myself fall down all ten steps from my bedroom, but then again, who was I fooling? I then tried drinking castor oil, which was supposed to cause me to miscarry (his idea). I remember the day he came over with the castor oil. He was so sure this was going to work. Deep down, I just knew that this wasn’t going to work either; his idea was just as dumb as mine were. I didn’t understand how drinking this stuff would make me miscarry. But I drank it anyways, wanting to trust that he would be right for a change. He made me some cherry Kool-Aid and poured two big tablespoons of the castor oil inside the cup. That stuff was so nasty! I can still taste it! Yuck! I am sure that is the reason why I dislike oils now, but working on getting past it. I cannot believe I was so stupid and trusted him. Especially after the stand up and let the sperm come out speech. Days after praying that the castor oil would work, nothing happened. Not even a spot of blood. No cramping, which was supposed to be a sign of me miscarrying. Nothing. Just this fetus inside of me steadily growing, and I was running out of options and time. I was so sad but kept a brave face for my family and friends. I wish I had them to lean on at this time, but telling them was out of the question.

By the time, his mother had gotten me scheduled to go get the abortion; the news I would receive would not be good. I remember sitting in the car as we pulled up to the clinic. I was so nervous I didn’t know what to expect. People were standing outside with signs, pictures of babies, and they were chanting something. His mom told me to ignore them. I didn’t understand then, but I learned and understood some years ago that they were protesting people who were there for abortions. They were against abortions and felt that it was wrong and we would burn in hell because all babies deserved to be born.

After we parked, all three of us walked inside. At the front desk, there were bowls of condoms. How ironic. They won’t help me now. We took the elevator up to the right floor to be seen by the doctor. His mother signed me in, and we sat down. He kept assuring me that everything would be okay and he was there for me. I wish I knew then that he was full of it. Since I hadn’t confided in my friends or family, I had no other choice but to believe him. A nurse called my name and escorted me to the back. Once in the back, she took my weight and asked me to go pee in a clear plastic cup. I agreed. Once I was done, she escorted me to a room where she took my vitals. She asked me several questions, like when was my last menstrual cycle. How did I know that I was pregnant. My response: I took a home pregnancy test and thought something was strange when I only came on my cycle for one day in the month of March. She asked me of my plans to keep or abort. I advised her that my plans were to get an abortion. I have my whole life ahead of me. I am too young to have a child, ma’am. She said, Before we continue and before you speak with the doctor, I have a few videos I need you to watch. Those videos were torture! It was all about making the right decision because if you don’t, it could lead to all types of depression. Did they not understand if I was to have this child then I would be depressed! Having a kid was not an option, period! My parents still knew nothing, and I needed it to be taken care of before they ever found out!

After watching the video, the same lady escorted me back into the same room where she took the vitals and told me the doctor would be in shortly. I could feel my heart beating fast, my palms sweating and thinking this has to be over soon. Finally, after what felt like an hour, which in reality was only about fifteen minutes, the lady doctor came in. She confirmed I was pregnant and asked me some of the same questions that the nurse had already asked me. I told her my same responses and that even after watching the video, I still wanted and needed to go forward with the abortion. Then the bomb dropped. My world stopped. The tears came. The doctor told me that I was too far along to have a typical one-day procedure done. That I now needed a two-day procedure, which would have to be performed in Columbus, Ohio. I would have to go nearly two hours away—that would be impossible! My parents are not going for that. This procedure just so happened would have to be scheduled for the weekend of my fifteenth birthday—an impossible day to be absent from my family. What in the world was I going to do now!

After leaving the office and explaining everything to my boyfriend and his mom, they still somehow made me to feel hopeful that I would not have this baby. My heart was broken. My life was over.

Forced to hide from my parents my growing belly, I wore baggy clothes, stayed in my sister’s bedroom, which happened to be on the third floor (mine was literally across from my parents), or just hang out over a friend’s house. I felt like Chantel from the movie Just Another Girl on the I.R.T. I was so disappointed in myself. I hadn’t even confided in my entire group of friends yet because I just didn’t know how. I was only fourteen, just finished my first year