Two and a half weeks ago, I celebrated my daughter's eleventh birthday and became reflective on one of the greatest, yet hardest times of my young adult life. I found myself a single parent, at a time when I wasn't even expecting to be a parent. I was in my junior year of college (Temple U baby!), with my boyfriend of four years, when we found out we were about to become parents. I was not happy or ecstatic, instead I instantly began to think about college and my scheduled graduation date. I got an attitude at the thought of having to move back home. I was not ready. My daughter's father, on the other hand, felt differently. He was happy! He started talking marriage - marriage? He called and told his family. He was ready.
Six and a half months later, I came home to an empty place. Literally and figuratively. Literally: What was empty? The closest. What was gone? All of my daughter's father's belongings, along with the Playstation and my fave game, Mrs. Pac Man (such a LOSER). Figuratively: What was empty? My spirit and mind. What was gone? My hope and aspiration for the near future. What was going on? I was at a place beyond confusion. I remember calling, and calling, and calling, and calling him all evening, receiving no answer. Honest to goodness, I didn't know what this all meant. We weren't arguing, in fact, we had a pretty great relationship and we were having a baby.
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