Pregnant with purpose, being delivered into my destiny. Pt.3

Part 3

 Realizing my son was not going to have his father in his life was disappointing. I was scared to raise this child on my own. I felt like I was an embarrassment and a disappointment to my family. I was hungry for something and felt like I needed a void to be filled. Even as I'm writing this, I can remember being hungry to read the Quran and the books about Islam. I was intrigued by the discipline I saw from Muslims. I was impressed with how they lived their religion and did not take it off and on as I saw so much in my Christian experience. I was also impressed with the way Islam, specifically, the Nation of Islam, shaped African American men and made them be the best versions of themselves. It taught them self-respect, chivalry, and the importance of putting your best self forward. Shortly after Tyree was born, I moved back to Philadelphia and found myself in a Nation of Islam mosque. I felt like Judas, like I betrayed Jesus by investigating Islam. I tried to mask this betrayal by saying, “I don't see Jesus as just a prophet; I see Jesus as The Prophet.” No matter how I reasoned it in my mind, it felt wrong. The more I tried to force myself into the religion's customs, the more I felt distant from my friend, the Creator. Even in the distance, I felt what I describe as an authorization from God to try Islam. This was the Creator's mercy, allowing me the free will to explore. After a year or two in the Nation of Islam, I left. I had questions about the religion that were unanswered, as they were in Christianity. More importantly, I had a deep and personal knowledge that Islam wasn't the right place for me. I would find that Islam would later shape the way I approach my Christianity. The discipline they showed me and daily commitment to live my spirituality and religion would become my foundation.

I wasn't active in religion for many years after this, but I still prayed; I read my bible from time to time and was intentional about raising my son to know God. I went through life during this time pretty empty. I felt like it was just Tyree and me alone, even though I lived with my parents. I had wonderful sister-friends but felt distant from them too. I let my own shame and the embarrassment continue to shape me. I was shame. I was embarrassment. I was not whole. I presented a confident face, especially at work, but it was a veil. My relationship with the Creator became more and more distant on my part, but I still had that hunger. I didn't feed the hunger much. 

 After more than two years of trying to heal from the relationship with the Haze, I met another man who would father another of my sons, Zyon. Let's call him the Mirage. While I had changed so much as a woman due to becoming a mother, I was still very broken. As a woman, I was beginning to have confidence in what I could accomplish in my career. But I had not faced who I saw myself as. My prayer life was still minimal. I talked to God in the way you talk to a distant relative at a family reunion. Have you ever seen someone you used to work with in a store but didn't really want to talk to them, so you act flighty and aloof? Yes, that is how I approached my relationship with God. I realize this disconnect, coupled with my broken womanhood, which was covered in the budding confidence in my career, attracted the Mirage to me. I can remember him telling me that he needed me to help save him from a "crazy" girlfriend with whom he had a small child in our first phone conversation. He appealed to the motherly nature that was still in its infancy but is innately who I am. I can see now that even the very first interaction was all wrong. First, according to the Bible, the man is supposed to lead the woman. How could this relationship be destined for anything but ruin when he was looking to me, a new mother nine years his junior, to lead him out of a bad relationship? A relationship that he led himself into? Secondly, why would I consider a relationship with a man who would speak so badly of a woman who bore him a child? He even showed me scratches on his arm, from when they had fought the night before, to invoke sympathy and drive me to feel like I needed to comfort him. To a woman in a healthy state of mind, these would have been red flags. But I wasn't whole, and I didn't stop to ask why he would tell me these things. I didn't consider what it said about him. Instead, I focused on the fact that he chose me to help him out of his mess out of all the women around. I focused on the fact that he needed me and my direction.

 Monique Moment - The older version of me would have told the younger version of me, "Girl, get your whole life together!" A man you consider having a relationship with shouldn't need you as your son does. If that is what you see now, it's what you will always see. In fact, you are seeing the best version of it now, because it's new. You will never be able to lean on him because you picked the role of  "Nurturer and fixer of all things" in this relationship, and he picked, "Can you do it? I can't. So, go do it, Babe." Needy and manipulative ain't sexy; leave it alone! This is a huge red flag that's been dipped in "poop" and set on fire!

I can remember talking about him to my friends. I talked about how he was the total opposite of the Haze. I mean, they are literally opposites of one another physically. I thought that I left something bad and something good found me. He was accomplished, athletic, handsome, articulate, and very charming. He looked good on paper and good enough to hang on my arm when I was with my family and friends. What I mean is he checked all the boxes of what a potential mate should have, on a rudimentary level. I spent time daydreaming, trying to determine if I could see him as the man in the vision I had of my family. Oddly enough, I saw quite a few children, but the image of a man wasn't clear. The image of him was like a mirage, not really there. I would later learn that is exactly what he was. There were lots of red flags with the Mirage, but I didn't walk away. I decided to stay until I had all the proof I needed. I decided to stay to see what happened, all the while trying to make it right. I knew deep down he was living with his girlfriend. I asked myself how strong could their relationship be if he spent so much time with me. This really sent me in a tailspin. He needed me, I thought. That's not all he needed from me. During the course of this relationship, I would do things that ranged from developing and organizing processes that would streamline his work, positioning him for promotions, to buying and delivering suits to his office so that he "looked the part when he met with clients and ran events." I quickly learned how he really felt about me one night while we were talking. He reached across me, and I saw the light reflect off of his wedding ring. I got up immediately and asked what that was. He responded with, "Oh, I was trying to decide which one of you I should be with, and then I got married. I was gonna tell you. But it's not what you think." He got married on the one weekend we were not together. I was dizzy and nauseous.

 There are no words to describe what I felt. I sat in my kitchen, apologizing to my unborn child. I was sorry because, once again, I had this all wrong. This time was a little different. I knew that I didn't need him there. I had one son on my own, and I knew that the road would be hard, but my small family was all we needed in this world with my determination and love. When I told him that I was pregnant, he asked me to have an abortion. He said it was the wrong time for him. I knew what this meant. I knew he was not leaving his wife for me. I was fine with that. I told the Mirage I wasn't going to stop him from being a father if that is what he wanted, nor would I beg him to be a father. I explained that I was going to make it one way or another. He decided to be a father to his children with his wife. I was pregnant at the same time his wife was pregnant with their second child. Coincidently, our sons were in the same class in preschool. Imagine my surprise, nausea, angst, confusion when I saw she was expecting. The one thing I really couldn't understand is how he could say that he didn't want to be a father to my child, but he thought that we were still in a relationship. He would call and invite me to his home while his wife was at work. Please keep in mind we were both pregnant. Through my disgust, I was able to say, "Do you realize I am pregnant? Did you stop to think about how I would feel walking into your home and seeing pictures of you and your family knowing you turned your back on my unborn baby and me?" His response was, "Okay, I will take the pictures down before you come over, or we can go to the playground on the side of my house." This is where the call ended, and my anger raged! Enough is enough! I was low and disgusted, but I felt power at the same time. I had control. I had the courage and control to say, "Nah, homie! I am a lot of things, but not that! Come off my phone!" I said a whole bunch of other things too. Let's just say the non-sanctified version of Monique showed up and aired -his -whole - life - out!! Then I promptly ended the call. I was pleased.

Telling my parents that I was pregnant again was once again a stressful situation. I didn't have a boyfriend or mate who wanted to be active in my child's life. I had my own apartment and was working full-time. I had even managed to get back into school because I realized the salary I was earning as a customer service representative at the investment firm where I worked was not going to cover my expanding family. Dealing with the shame I felt from my parents was easier because I didn't have to live with it. I only had to deal with it during family functions and when I went to their house to do my laundry. On this one particular Saturday, I was in a pretty bad mood because I failed an exam in the Microsoft Certified Professional series by one point. I was exhausted from being pregnant, being a single mother, working full-time, and going to school. I sat at the table with my mother just being, and my father came into the room. He asked what was wrong, and I explained that I had just failed the test by one point and was fed up. He said, "It seems like the only thing you can do right is get pregnant, huh?" At that point, it would have been easier to mop me up and throw me out than it was for me to get up and leave. It was like he had no empathy for me at all. His words rolled off so easily. I didn't get mad; I didn't argue. I just gathered my child and my belongings and prepared to leave. As I left, I said I would be back to do my laundry. My father informed me that he was having a meeting with the Masons at the house later and wanted me to find another time to come. He did not want them to see me like this. I was crushed but not surprised by his remarks. My father simply said what I knew he felt about me all these years. It's one thing to have an idea that a person has a particular idea of you; it is another to have it confirmed. 

My prayer life started to increase in proportion to my loneliness. As I talked to God, I asked to be led to a biblical name that symbolized strength, something I had very little of. I knew whatever name I gave him would be what he grew up to be. I was drawn to the Archangels' names and even the name Angel, but they didn't seem fitting. I remember the name “Zion” coming to me. I grabbed my bible and read the verses that referenced Zion and knew this was it. His name would be Zyon. The time came for me to deliver him, and I reached out to his father. He said he would be there but did not show up. It was fine because I was prepared for the labor process. I spent months leading up to labor reading, studying, and preparing physically for the process. I was calm and in control. I had been through labor, so I knew what to expect. I knew my body would do what it was trained to do. I just had to surrender. I labored for most of the day at home alone. Tyree was hanging out with my parents. My mother was on notice that I was in active labor. Being in my own space to focus my thoughts and feel what was happening was important to me. I drove to my mother's house, and she took me to the hospital. I was only in the hospital for a few hours before it was time to push, and that process was pretty easy as well. I was shocked that the process was so much easier this time around, especially since Zyon was 2 pounds bigger than Tyree. But it wasn't the size of the package that made the difference; it was my approach to the process. I prepared; when the pain and contractions started, I didn't fight. I relaxed into it. I was intentional in releasing my breath, all the energy, and even relaxing my muscles. I let my body do what it does naturally. Ironically, the act of surrendering gave me the power to push Zyon out with so much force the doctor said she had to catch him. I learned a vital life lesson at this moment. I learned that God could take something steeped in shame and bring about something so beautiful. I also learned that strength is surrendering in the midst of your storm and pain. The Creator designed the surrender to carry you through the part of the process you are NOT supposed to control. God does this because he needs you to conserve your energy to do your part, pushing or birthing that purpose to the world. In short, let God be God! That is when I started to see that life is co-creating with the Creator. I remember looking at Zyon, another perfect and pure co-creation with the Creator, and thanking God for safe delivery. I marveled at his potential as I held him. I promised to love, protect, and care for him. I promised him a peaceful home and a loving family with his brother. As I held him, I did feel some fear. I was still fearful of being alone. I was sad because I was rejected again but felt worse for the Mirage because he was missing out on the miracle that was Zyon. I also felt confidence and resilience growing in me. I could feel the love as he looked at me. What I felt coming from Zyon was pure, honest love. He was quiet and alert. He had a presence even as a newborn. This presence would cause me to be the strong woman that just labored naturally for hours alone. The look in his eyes didn't allow me to sit in my self-pity; instead, it required action to move, to start our lives. I accepted the challenge and eagerly left the hospital to start my life as a single mother of two boys. 

I had no idea how incredibly fun, scary, and rewarding my life would be with these little guys. I continued to work hard, but I made time to play hard with them. Being an awesome mom became my goal. I didn't hang out with friends if my boys couldn't be there. I didn't go places where they weren't welcome. We were together ALL the time, outside of when I was at work. When I got off work, I rushed to get them. I was teaching them about God and prayer, as well. It was important that they know God and realize that God was covering us. I wasn't connected to a church at this time. I wanted to be part of a church but had so much fear about being in a small church because of what I'd experienced. A close sister-friend would introduce me to her church, Enon Baptist, during this time. Enon was perfect. The pastor was of fire for God, and he was doing so many positive things in the community. It was also perfect for me because it was growing into a megachurch. There were so many people there; I could be totally anonymous. I was comfortable with anonymous. I felt drawn to join. I didn't date the church long at all. I visited, and I joined. I knew I needed to belong. I needed to be connected to the church. I understood that cultivating my relationship with the Creator on my own was essential, but in this season, I needed to be fed. There was something in me that was hungry, and Enon fed it.

After joining Enon, I would like to say that I lived happily ever after, but that isn't true. The bad thing with being anonymous in a church or any organization is the lack of responsibility and accountability. I was in the church being fed, but I needed the church's community to see me. I needed to be held accountable and responsible for my actions or lack thereof. I needed to be coached and counseled. Without that, I was doing the same things outside of the church and then coming to church to confess and make promises that I couldn't keep to God or myself. The cycle would repeat every week. I wasn't settled in being a single woman, although I was happy being a single mother. I craved love from a man but didn't want the number of men that I had been intimate with to increase. I was proud that until this point, I had only had three sexual partners. This is not something that I hold against anyone; it is simply a standard for myself. While the standard itself was good, the mentality behind it was sick and confused. This was my justification for resuming a relationship with Zyon's father again. 

Honestly, the circumstances around how I resumed an intimate relationship with Zyon's father are fuzzy at best. I know that I tried to get him to know his son, which he obviously had no interest in. He was more interested in me. I could feel it but couldn't wrap my mind around how a man could be in the same room as his son and not want to give all that he could to him. The attention he showed me unarmed me. I took what he gave me and, in my mind, compartmentalized this situationship away from the fact that this man was a deadbeat father. I was used to the deadbeat father because the Haze was one as well. I was not used to being intimate with a deadbeat father, let alone one who fathered one of my own children. Strangely I felt like I was showing him I could handle the blatant disregard of Zyon and me. I felt by living the saying, "I am not going to force a man to be a man or force a man to be a father," I was demonstrating my strength and resilience. I figured I was enough for my boys, and everyone saw it. 

I knew deep down what I was doing was wrong. My own guilt would lead me to not spend time with him when my children were awake. I did not want to confuse what they saw. Tyree was at an age where he wanted to know why all of his other friends had fathers, and he didn't. He would make up stories to tell his friends and teachers about why his father was not around. I knew I had to be careful not to confuse him or set unreal expectations for either of them. At least I had the presence of mind to care more for my children's mental state than my own. My situation with Zyon's father was pretty cut and dry for me and probably was the same for him. There were a few big differences this time around. The first is that his wife would call and ask me if I knew him. My response was always no. I would tell her she had the wrong number. Something in me wanted her to know, but I didn't want to be that girl. I didn't want her to hurt because I was hurting. She had the family, and I didn't want to take that away or cause her stress. As a more mature woman, I realize she knew; she was looking for confirmation. I also became the "I don't have any money" girl to the Mirage. I knew that I couldn't go back to paying for everything and partnering financially with a man who was married. I also didn't assist with his work or career path. I redirected that energy to developing my own career. It was no longer my role to take care of him. This was difficult for him to accept. He was used to coming to me for his car payment (did I mention that I didn't have a car payment? How could I have money for his?). He was used to me paying for his car's maintenance, buying clothes, and buying and paying for his cell phone. He never even took me out to dinner. He would cook for me in my house, but I was not valuable enough to him for him to spend a dollar on. I would ask him if he would like to help with the expense of Zyon and pay half of the daycare tuition. He offered to do that…once. The one-time payment he offered was $125. That $125 is all he would ever contribute to Zyon...

I put all of these emotions to the side and ignored them when he showed me attention. This would lead me to get pregnant again. As I write this, it breaks my heart to see how much I really struggled with self-worth. Having sex is one thing, but to have unprotected sex with the Mirage and jeopardize my health, knowing I was the sole parent of two sons, is a sobering thought today. I guess the reality is I was using him as well. I was using him physically to scratch a spiritual itch. I had a heart issue. I have never shared this with anyone. Writing and releasing this to the world is the first time I am revealing and releasing it. I knew that having another child with him was stupid. I was ashamed and embarrassed. When my pregnancy was confirmed, my prayers were primal and shame-filled. I felt disgusting in the eyes of my Creator. I recall lying on the ground crying out loud and praying, asking God to forgive me and help me. I felt that I let God down. I felt like I let Tyree down. I felt like I downright betrayed Zyon. I felt like I continued to let my family down. I knew I was out of control. I was ashamed for considering abortion because of my past. How could I consider it after all I had endured? I asked God how I would make it because I was barely making it now. I asked God what would people say about me, what would my parents and my family say about me? I remember looking at my two boys, especially Zyon, and feeling like the worst type of person. I felt like my careless actions compromised their future. I decided to terminate the pregnancy. As I mentioned, I didn't tell anyone. I felt so much shame in doing this; I devised quite an elaborate plan to get the procedure. I decided that I could not have the procedure near my home. I feared that someone would see my car in the lot and know my secret. I rented a car and took my boys to my parents’ home early one Saturday morning. I told my parents I was working overtime. I drove to another state and got the procedure alone. The emotional pain and guilt I felt at this moment can't be put into words. I was so emotionally distraught that the staff asked that I stay longer to compose myself. They could tell that I was in no state to leave the office at all. I stayed and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. I was weak, breathless, and limp. I knew that I had to pull myself together because I had to be a mother to my boys, even if I had just been the worst type of mother to the child I just terminated.

Having that procedure changed something in me. I left that office different. I evolved a little. I felt like I had done the right thing on paper, but I knew the lack of trust in God to make something beautiful out of my mistake was soul-crushing. I felt unclean and unworthy to be in the presence of the Creator. But that is the beauty of the relationship with God: when you can't, He can. The Creator sent the Holy Spirit to minister to me because I was so low I couldn't cry out for myself. The Holy Spirit is a comforter and a counselor. The Holy Spirit will minister to and pray on your behalf when you have nothing left. The Holy Spirit ministered to me and prayed for me during that drive home. That ministering gave me the strength to agree to some immediate changes. The first agreement I made is that I have to walk in my faith more. I didn't quite know what that would look like, but I agreed. I could not bear the feeling of disappointing God. I also agreed that I was strong. I felt weak, but I knew with all I had endured that if I could stand up and wipe myself off instead of checking myself in for mental evaluation, I was something. I owned being strong. I agreed to be alone. You would think that I would have tried to negotiate this with the Creator since I had such a dire need to be loved, but no. I simply agreed. I informed the Mirage that we were done! In every way, we were done! I knew he would think it was temporary, but he quickly understood that I was serious. He even tried to use my sympathy to get me to let me guard down. Y'all know what I mean; the way men use your best qualities to manipulate you into doing what they want you to do. How to identify and stop the pattern is a whole separate post. He learned quickly I was not a joke! I wasn't rude or mean, rather stern and matter of fact in my delivery. When he called, I would ask if he was calling to see his son? If he was calling to give money for Zyon's care? Of course, the answer was always no. So my answer was, "I gotta go." My next agreement was to raise sons that any woman would want to have as mates one day. That was big, but I felt that I was already doing that. This was one of the first calls to authenticity and transparency that I can remember. I agreed not to do anything in private that I would not want my children to know about. When I was in a relationship, my kids would know. How the relationship would impact them would become the priority, not fulfilling a selfish desire. I also agreed to walk with confidence. I didn't feel like much as I looked at my tear-stained face in the rearview mirror, but I believed that I would be something one day. This is the day I started to move like I was something, even if it was a little something.

I quickly got used to my new life on my new terms. I worked harder. I focused on my agreements daily. I was diligent in my prayer and bible study, less diligent in my church attendance, but no one knew or missed me. I had two relationships during the next few years, but it was nothing significant. When I was disrespected or saw behavior that I knew was a problem, I ended the relationship. I had learned how to separate myself from the feelings I craved and saw things for how they really were. I didn't wallow in bad situations or mince words. When I knew it was over, I would have the conversation. I would listen to the other person's side and hear their promises, but I held on to the respect and value I was promised by God and the agreements I made. If their actions didn't align in our past, chances are they wouldn't in the future, so I ended the relationship. I was no longer afraid to be alone. I was still lonely at times, but I was not alone. I had these crazy, fun boys to distract me. We would have PS One tournaments and all-day movie days. We were always on the go. We would visit farms, go on walks in the park, visit museums, go to the ballet. I took them to restaurants that I wished men would take me to (for lunch, that is) and taught them how to act in public. We laughed, and we shared. I was there for them, and they were there for me. I was intentional about getting to know them. I wanted to know what they thought, how they felt, what hurt them, and their dreams. I wanted them to really know me and to feel, know, and see that I loved them. I planned things for our time together. I put effort into our relationship, the best relationship.

I will pick up with part four soon.

Keep evolving toward excellence!!