Rambling Through The Hurt

They tell me not to bite the hand that feeds me. They tell me I should be happy they are even taking care of me after the disgrace I brought down on them. They tell me to be grateful and shut up. Don't you just love parents?

I tell them I would rather walk on my own two feet than be shunned and shamed for something that will never change. Well that's what I should tell them but I don't. It's not because I'm chicken, I'm far from it. The reason I don't tell them exactly what I think about the way they treat me is currently sleeping in her crib in the next room. My life, my whole reason for living, my 7 month old baby girl.

My story is one older than time. Girl meets son of dad's boss and is told to make nice. Girl falls hopefully in love with said boy, thinking he completely understands her and her feelings of suffocation. Then on one drunken night, girl sleeps with boy believing he's the one who will get her away from everything. Boy turns out to be jerk, claiming the girl is a whore when she goes to him a couple weeks later and tells him she's pregnant. Parents of both boy and girl are ashamed, both blame girl for ruining the boy's and her life. Girl is sent off to a distant relative to have the baby and give it away.

That is the age old story, right?

Only in this story, girl grows a backbone of sorts and refuses to give away her baby. Telling the whole world to accept her little girl for she is here and isn't going anywhere. Good for the girl, I know you are thinking. Too bad things didn't work out the way you hope in this life.

My parents refuse to accept my daughter, they don't ask about her and they don't tell their friends about her. If you were to ask my parents where I was, they'd tell you some lie about being in school in some distance city, studying to be whatever the trendy job is this year.

To make sure that I never go back to the place I grew up, they pay for all my living expenses and make sure I have access to spare cash in case something happens. Sure it may sound like I'm living the dream, with no worries in the world but I'm not.

What I wouldn't give to have my parents ask about Alexis; for them to want to know how she's doing, want to see pictures of her and for once refer to her by her name instead of my 'mistake'. How nice it would be to hear my parents call her their granddaughter and brag to their friends on how pretty and smart she is. But those are all wild dreams of mine.

One day, I will be able to give Alexis everything she'll ever need. One day I will go back home and show them that I'm proud of my little girl. When that day comes, I hope they are ready to admit they were wrong.

This is my story.

This is my life.