My Father

Every time I see my father dote on my son, it makes my skin crawl. It’s hard for me not to feel total disgust when I hear him going on and on about his grandson. See I remember when he first found out I was pregnant.
“You whore, how could you do this to me?” He yelled. The words stung like a slap in the face.
“This isn’t about you.” I said feeling the anger beginning to rise.
“Don’t you talk back to me. You shamed this family. I’ll never be able to show my face in church again. I’m a Deacon for God sake.” I laughed.
“You hypocrite. I don’t care if you go to church or not. As far as I’m concerned you can go to hell.”
My father raised his hand to slap me. My mother who had been completely stunned up until this point stood between us. She didn’t say anything, but my father understood and sat down.
The way people treat you when you’re sixteen, pregnant, and unmarried is really hard. So many of my family members and teachers kept telling me how disappointed they were in me. They acted like I didn’t know that I had made the wrong choice. I knew sixteen was too young to have a baby… But that doesn’t mean my life is over. Sometimes they act like this baby growing inside of me is killing me. It’s not. It’s making me stronger… Every time I feel my baby moving inside of me it helps me go on. It’s like it’s saying,
“So what if you’re sixteen, I love you. Keep going this is not the end, this is the beginning.”
But then I look at my father who hasn’t spoken to me in four months and I want to give up. Mom says he’ll come around, but how do you recover from something like this. Our relationship will never be the same. Because every time I look at him, I’ll know he sees me as a whore.
You wanna know what the funny thing is? He never even asked me who the father was, and when he found out it was Mike (the ministers son) he was surprised. Like Mike was the victim. I’d love to tell him how Mike suggested it, but somehow I don’t think he’d believe me. He’d just turn it around somehow. You wanna know the worst part? He didn’t even get mad at Mike. They hugged and my dad forgave him and now they hang out like their buddies or something… It makes me sick. Mom says I shouldn’t let it upset me. It’s not good for the baby.
Mom really loves me. You know that unconditional kind of love where no matter what happens it doesn’t change how she feels about me. My dad doesn’t. Sometimes I can feel him looking at me and it makes me feel dirty... like I’m some kind of criminal.
I moved in with my sister in my sixth month because I just couldn’t live with my parents anymore. I didn’t even see either one of them during my last two months. It was just too painful.
On May 8, 2000 I gave birth to a seven pound eight ounce baby boy named Zackary Nathaniel Lemon. I think his last name is ironic because my pregnancy was so bitter.
My dad was still mad when he came to the hospital, but once he held my son in his arms all the hate and anger left and he just stood there weeping.
I never got over that day. Because it was the day I realized that my father loves me for what I do and not for who I am, and for me that’s just too hard to swallow.