FCYU-Feature Story

Manning Up
I age out the same month my baby is born. Gulp.

By Christopher Guzman

I was chilling at my godparents’ house when I got the text from my girl Corrie. It had a picture attached that I didn’t understand, so I texted her back, “wwwhhhhaaaaatttttt?” Her next text said, “Negative is the straight line; positive is the plus sign.” I looked back at the picture: a plastic stick with a plus sign.

I knew her period was late, but now it was real. I threw my phone in the air and laughed and yelled at the same time. I was scared but also amazed that I was bringing a life into the world. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.

We didn’t intend to get pregnant, but I don’t believe in abortion. To me, it seems like killing a human being who didn’t even get to open his eyes. I asked Corrie what she wanted to do, and she told me that she doesn’t believe in abortion either. She said, “I’m going to leave it in; we’re going to have a family.”

So I’m going to be a father. I don’t know much about what’s going to happen, but I know I don’t want to do what my father did—he left my family the day I was born. He just walked out and left a letter to my mom saying, “I’m not ready to be a father to three boys. PEACE.” He moved to Puerto Rico to make a whole new foundation, including starting another family. That hurt. He didn’t see me before he left, but it still feels like a personal rejection.

Me as a Father

I feel like a kid in a kid’s body, partly because I’m short, and also because I’m only 20 and haven’t even aged out of care yet. I need a job and a place to live. I don’t really feel ready to be a father. I feel more stress than ever imagining what it will be like when the baby is born. I know it’s going to be stressful when the baby wakes up early in the morning, needs changing, needs feeding. It’s hard for me to deal with new things that I’m not used to. Knowing that I’m not ready makes it more difficult to hear family members, friends and associates say, “You’re not ready! How are you going to pay for this? Where are you going to live?” It’s too much.

I need to get a job to support my child. I need money for rent and health insurance and to take the baby to the hospital if it’s sick, to buy formula and baby food and clothes. There’s so much I don’t know about a baby, but I do know that responsibility comes first.

To be a father, I have to change my life and become a better person because I’ve been a knucklehead. I’ve been hanging around with my friends—smoking, drinking, partying, doing what normal teenagers do. In August my life will change completely: the baby is due, and I turn 21 and age out of care.

I’d like to worry less, but I have more to worry about than ever. Becoming a father is the hardest and scariest thing that I can think of besides going to war.

How Do I Learn This Stuff?

I didn’t have a father to look up to who could understand what I was going through. I had role models and father figures, but no one can replace a father growing up. I always wanted what someone else had because there was no one to buy things for me or take me to the movies. Even after I turned 18, I still missed having a father. I wish that I’d had a father to talk to when I needed some advice about things that I don’t know—including being a father!

I don’t want my child growing up like I did. That’s why I’m going to give my baby what my father didn’t give to me: guidance, encouragement, strength, hope, and, the most important, love.

Taking Care of Others

I’ve made a good start by going with Corrie to her doctor’s appointments. The day that I went to the first ultrasound was the happiest day ever. I saw my baby for the first time as an embryo. I was proud of myself for playing the role and stepping up.

Corrie was in a lot of pain during the ultrasound. I was holding her hand throughout it. I told her “Baby, you OK, everything’s going to be OK,” letting her know that we’re in this together. I felt like a husband holding his wife through the pain and struggles.

While the nurse was taking the pictures of the baby I was asking her very important questions about the baby, but she ignored me! I was shocked. Corrie asked a question and the nurse answered her. I got very offended. I asked her another question, same thing, no answer. I was really getting mad.

Then Corrie and I both asked if we could see and hear the heart. She showed us the heart. Then I asked her if we could hear the heart beating. No reply. I asked her again, no reply. It reminded me a little of the way Corrie’s mother sometimes leaves me out of the picture when we’re talking about the baby.

I wanted to smack fire out of the nurse. But I calmed down. I was proud of holding my temper because it showed me that I’m not quitting for anything. I’m already doing more than my father ever did. I got a book about pregnancy and I’ve been reading about the growth of the baby, how it looks when it’s in the stomach, how much it should weigh, and things like that.

When we left the doctor’s office, Corrie immediately called her mother and told her about the ultrasound. I took her to the train and she went home. I was walking home just looking at the picture of the baby I’d taken on my phone and I started crying again. I cried every emotion, but mostly I was scared about the responsibility and happy because I’m bringing another human being into this world.

Me and Corrie

I told my best friend Dre the news first, and he asked if I was sure Corrie was the one for me. I answered, “Yes, she is the one. She’s there for me and supports me.” She made me feel loved from the first time I met her, nine months ago. Even after one month, it felt like I’d known her forever.

My girlfriend and I do have a good connection, but things have changed since we found out about the baby. We barely speak to each other or see each other anymore. I call her and we only talk about the baby and what we’re going to do and stuff. We used to joke around more. Things are more serious now, not fun.

We’re losing a part of each other because of the baby. We’re losing love because things aren’t the way they used to be. She’s tired and nauseous and I’ve been tired and worried about where we’re going to live. I need help with everything.

We’re going to be One no matter what, but now we’re not One, feelings-wise. I told her that I was worried that we were drifting apart, that we barely kiss or converse. She said, “Sorry that it’s happening like this; it will get better.” I said, “Whatever.”

I wonder how it would be if we were not having a baby. Sometimes I wonder if she would have broken up with me by now. She was on me to get a job even before she got pregnant.

Family

Corrie’s dad died when she was young, and she’s very close to her mother. She has a sister who also had a baby last year. Corrie’s mother and cousins and aunts and grandmother fight over who gets to babysit that baby.

I wish I had a mother like that and I’m glad for the support. But sometimes it seems like I have to prove myself to Corrie’s mother. I look for jobs and apartments every day, but Corrie and her mother act like I’m not trying hard enough. They’ll ask, “Well, why didn’t you do this or do that?” It makes me feel like they don’t believe me, like they’re asking for proof of what I do all day.

Corrie doesn’t like any of the names I’ve picked for the baby. I wanted my friend to be the godmother, but Corrie chose someone else. I want my kid to eat chicken and meat, and Corrie’s already decided the baby will be a vegetarian.

An apartment below her mother’s apartment might become available, and if we live there, I know her mother will be making a lot of the decisions about the baby. I worry that if I don’t get a job or get into school or get a place to live soon that they’ll only treat me like the baby-father, not the father.

But I want to be the father. I want to wake up every day and strive to provide for my child. I’ve accepted that this baby is what matters most now, more than all of my fears and the obstacles in my past.

Even though I don’t have parents, I have people who will help. My godparents will be like grandparents. I know that they will help me in any way possible. They took me in after I left from a group home upstate and accepted me into the family. I didn’t have a father, but I do have people to look up to and who love me just like I was their own child.

I’m also glad to have my friends Kalid, Marc, and Dre, even though Dre moved to Texas last year. He and I always joked around calling each other “son” and “my child.” When I told him Corrie was pregnant, he said “Wow, I’m going to become a grandfather,” and we both laughed. I asked all three of those guys to be godfather to my baby. They said that they were happy to be a part of the baby’s life and that they’d be there for us 100 percent.

August

I turn 21 and age out on August 5. What turning 21 means is losing all the money I got for school, for clothes, food, housing, transportation, haircuts, everything. My baby is due August 22, and I have to be there to take care of it. I want my baby to have birth parents, not be part of the system.

Now my responsibility is to become a good father. I’m getting up every day to look for jobs and internships and colleges that will accept a special education diploma (which is really a certificate that says I completed highschool). I’m writing a lot for Represent, and I study on my own time just to stay on track with my education.

I’m going to take a fatherhood class to prepare me to become a successful father. I’m still afraid because we’re in a recession, and how am I going to find a job if nobody’s hiring? But even though it’s hard, I won’t stop trying because somebody is depending on me now to live a successful life.

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