Told You So

by Mayci Neeley

I’ve known all along that God has a plan for everyone. I just don’t know why mine is so shitty.

Most of all, I want to tell her that the tragedies and trauma she’s experienced won’t define her. That there’s no reason to feel shame about any of her mistakes—that the only shame is in hiding them.

Why is a girl who has sex outside of marriage considered a slut when a guy can get away with it? Why can’t Mormons drink coffee when it’s made from beans but soda is OK when it’s artificial?

He says he lives his life in line with God and Jesus, and if he gets to heaven and learns the Mormons weren’t right, at least he’ll have lived in a good and moral way. I like that. It leaves some gray area. I’m the only Mormon girl I know who wears bikinis and tube tops.

It takes a year to return to good standing in the church after you’ve had premarital sex. It only takes a few months of repenting to come back from drinking or doing drugs.

I’ve become more of a feminist. I believe it’s not up to me to judge what other women do. Abortion isn’t the problem. The problem is the lack of resources for women. I should’ve been able to get birth control in college easily without having to drive an hour to Planned Parenthood and without seeing an OB-GYN.

I turn to Tom and say, “I made a mistake.” I’m crying. “I’m pregnant.” Tom stares at me across his desk and says, “A baby is never a mistake.” He’s so much kinder than I expected. My eyes burn.

all three of my conversations to go so well. Tom, Fui, and Vern all make me feel less horrible about myself. They each make a real difference in my life by giving me choices and options I didn’t think I’d have.

have that baby, and come back to campus. When you get back here, I want to see you. I want to give you a hug.”

The more time I spend online, the unhappier I get. But I can’t stop.

tiptoe up the stairs and into the room where Hudson is sleeping soundly in his crib. I stand over him and watch his tiny chest rise and fall. I exhale. I’m safe again.

I start to like myself. I appreciate who I’m becoming for the first time in years.

Giving birth with a partner is magical. I’ve never been so in love with Jacob. He helps me get into the shower at the hospital, changes every one of Harlow’s diapers, makes sure I have enough food and water, and asks the nurses to teach him how to swaddle. He’s the perfect newborn daddy. I’m so grateful. When we get home, he’s the one who notes Harlow’s poops and pees and how often she eats. He’s the one who protects my space.

My take is people can think what they want, but I know who I am and I know what I do.

if I did care what people think, I wouldn’t have made it out of 2015.

Through EMDR, I learn that I did the best I could for myself with the knowledge I had at the time. I shouldn’t hold my nineteen-year-old self to the standards I now hold myself to at twenty-seven. It’s similar to what Tom allowed me to see at BYU.

the fact that Dick was hiding from me too. He was scared to show his face. I’m in control. Not him.

remind myself that my body is healthy. That it was made to carry this baby.

And the video is sweet: Jacob stares at the screen, not moving, and then his face breaks into a huge smile when he sees the heartbeat. There’s instant relief there. Our baby.

I think of the version myself on that cruise ship, so depressed I contemplated jumping into the ocean. I’m so grateful that when the lab calls my name, I can stand and say, “I’m here.”