My Mother Kicked Me Out of the Church for Getting Pregnant Out of Wedlock

“My study group suggested cutting back on caffeine.”

“My dear Faith,” Mama said slowly, “in all your years of schooling, I’ve never seen you skip meals during finals. Something’s going on with you, and we both know it ain’t just studying.”

But before she could press further, I grabbed my backpack. “Sorry, Mama, I’m late for the library. Group project!”

I practically ran down the stairs, leaving her standing there with that worried look I’d been trying so hard to avoid.

The following Sunday, Mama called up to my room, “Faith, honey! We’re gonna be late for service!”

“Coming!” I called back, fighting another wave of nausea. “Maybe I should skip today…”

“Skip church? Are you feeling poorly?” Mama appeared in my doorway.

“Just a little tired,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Been studying real hard.”

“You’ve been ‘tired’ all week,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Something you want to tell me?”

“No ma’am,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

The church was packed that morning, all our neighbors dressed in their Sunday best.

Mrs. Jones was wearing her famous pink hat, and Mr. Rodriguez had his grandkids with him. Everything was fine until halfway through the sermon when that familiar nausea hit me.

I must’ve turned green because Mama grabbed my hand.

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” she whispered, her eyes narrowing. “Come to think of it, you’ve been actin’ strange all week…”