Musings of a broken heart

What in the world have I done to myself? How could I let this happen to me? I, that advice young girls of this very thing – how could I have made the same mistakes I cautioned them about? These were the questions I was asking myself as I sat in my mother’s living room thinking of the curve life has thrown at me and how I was going to handle it. As I sat there sniffling with tears streaming down my face and catarrh running down my nose, I thought back to how it all started. Because make no mistake about it, the decision I make from here on out will have a life changing effect on me and for you to understand my predicament and foolishness I have to start from the very beginning.
I met Larry in church two years ago and we became fast friends. After a few months of being friends, he told me he would like a whole lot more than just friendship between us. I was flattered – here is a cute, fun, God-fearing guy asking to be mine – it felt like an answered prayer and I accepted. Both of us were very active in church. I was in the teenage ministry and I counsel young girls; I enjoy impacting lives and being a part of someone’s success story so I try as much as possible to be involved. I’m digressing – back to Larry and me.
Our relationship progressed from there and we started seeing a lot of each other. I would go to his family’s house whenever they have a function and as a typical African lady in her in-laws house; I would wash and clean as needed to garner support and likes from his family; I was that invested in the relationship. There was a particular red-flag that should have warned me that the relationship was doomed before it even started – his mother does not like me – and we as Africans know that the mother of the groom has to have mad love for the bride for it to work out. Even if the guy has doubts, it could still work out with his mum whispering her wishes in his ear.
Her reason for not liking me? I am an average individual; I’m not educated nor beautiful nor witty enough for her Ivy League son to marry. She would prefer an ‘Ivy leaguean’ like her son. Don’t get me wrong, I get where she is coming from; every mother wants the best for her child but sometimes the best is not what you make it out it to be. Sometimes what you think is the worst might actually be the best. Anyway, that didn’t deter us from going on with our relationship – we were happy and in love.
About two months ago, I discovered I was pregnant – a result of one night of weakness and vulnerability. That didn’t faze me though; the fact that people will see it as a disappointment especially from me. I didn’t care how the church folk will take it – I was ecstatic to be having a baby with the love of my life. He was happy too; at least it seemed so.
A while ago though, I started noticing some changes in his behavior towards me – another red flag I should have flapped down which I ignored. I noticed he doesn’t come to see me as much as he used to and even when he was around he was usually distracted. I didn’t want to make a mountain out of a mole hill so I disregarded it.
So what is the problem – you ask me? The very big problem I have is that the father of my unborn baby just broke the news of his engagement to someone else to me. He eventually found an ‘alakada’ like him and the ‘Ivy leaguean’ his mother has always been rooting for.
Here I am; pregnant, alone, broke and living in my mother’s house. Did I misinterpret the signs? Did I imagine myself to be in love when it was nothing as substantial as that? Was I living a dream and projecting a reality? I really don’t know. I’m so confused, I don’t know what to do or where to go from here, hence the sniffles. What I know for sure is through thick or thin – whatever I have to do, I am keeping this precious one. I am having this baby no matter what I have to do or who I have to be.