Yellow Brick Road (an Eazy-E Story)

THIRTY FOUR

June 2nd, 1993 | Los Angeles, CA

I glanced at the monitor in disbelief.

I had taken the proper precautions to make sure this didn't happen. I guess I wasn't careful enough. I watched onward as my unborn wiggled it's tiny limbs on the monitor. She measured its length digitally before telling me how many centimeters long the fetus was.

I was alone. My denim shorts and panties folded hastily on the chair next to the table I'm lying on. The room was cold and silent. I didn't tell Eric that I would be here. I lied and said that I had errands to run and that my appointment was next week.

"You're seven weeks along according to the last date of your menstrual." Said the technician. She pressed over my uterus with slight pressure to get snapshots of the baby. I tried my hardest to keep my tears inside. I didn't want to break down in front of this woman. She's only doing her job.

What is supposed to be a joyous moment for most women isn't so joyous for me. This child would be born to a father who is known for his infamous sexual behavior, and to a mother who allows it by continuously running back to him. He has seven kids already. This baby would make it eight.

I didn't want to be another 'baby mama'. I wanted to birth my first born (and the children after) into wedlock. A strong family unit. One that I could be proud of. That our kids could be proud to hail from.

I didn't want to be a mother if it meant I would have to give birth under these tricky circumstances.

"Now, let's find baby's heartbeat." The woman said with such a wide grin on her face. It was wiped away quickly when she noticed how nervous and tense I had gotten. The tension ceased the moment the beating heart of my unborn echoed off the walls.

It was loud, strong—hard.

I felt a lump in my throat the moment I heard it. I tried my best to swallow it down. The technician pulled the device away from the lower left side of my stomach and reached over to grab clean towels to wipe the clear blue gel from my stomach.

"Honey, are you okay?" The older technician asked me. She was a light skinned woman in what looked to be her early forties. Her hair was brown and pulled back into a slick ponytail that stopped in the middle of her back.

Her ring finger was stacked with a wedding band and a princess cut diamond ring—solitaire. Her eyes were searching for something inside of mine, but I don't think she found anything alive in them.

"Not really." I said as I pulled the white sheet over my exposed lower half to cover myself as I sat up straight on the exam table.

"You can't predict when life happens." She said as sweetly as she could.

"Don't I know." I scoffed sarcastically.

"There are options. Every woman that comes to this clinic has them." She said as she walked over to the pamphlet wall. She grabbed one of each and walked back over to the table to hand them to me.

One pamphlet was about adoption. The other was about mothers that needed help with government assistance options. One was about abortion. And the last one was about parenting classes.

"Whichever you choose is confidential and strictly your choice." She reassured me as she placed her hand on my shoulder.

I stared at the pamphlets some more as I interchanged each one in my hands until I inhaled a sharp, deep breath.

"How soon can I schedule another appointment?" I looked at the technician in the eye after twenty or so minutes of avoiding eye contact.

"As soon as next week, I can have you right back on this table." She smiled as she tapped the table beneath me.