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I Had Sex With Two Guys and It Ended With A Miscarriage

I called my doctor and she told me not even to come into the hospital, I was probably having a miscarriage and there was nothing that could

Dating

As I sat on the edge of the tub waiting for the results of the pregnancy test, in true Lifetime movie fashion, I couldn't help but wonder how the hell I had gotten to this point.

I've always been naïve, but I was skimming real close to delusion when, for weeks prior, I refused to acknowledge the fact that my period was late and throwing up first thing in the morning had been added to my daily schedule. I was scared to look at the woman I had become; one that had been having unprotected sex with not one, but two, men at the same time and sneaking around in order to do so. Not only was I endangering multiple people, the results of the test showed there would be one more added to the bunch.


I took the news surprisingly well, accepting that this was the outcome of unprotected sex and I would just take things slowly. That didn't last long at all. It hit me when I was driving down the freeway, talking to the advice nurse about the possible answers to “what now?" and I began sobbing uncontrollably. Nothing makes you look at how full of BS a man is until you think you are carrying their child. I was sobbing because I wasn't in an exclusive relationship with either of the two, and quite frankly, I didn't want to be.

I had been having sex with a seat filler so to speak and now my life was about to be changed forever.

I had been involved with both men--I'll call them Jared and Carter for the time being--for a number of years before the relationships turned sexual. They became sexual because it was easy to differentiate the friendships that we had and the fact that we liked to hook up every once and a while. It was non-committal, and that's just how I liked it. While I was having sex with someone I was comfortable with, I could go on dates and meet new people without letting my sexual frustration rush me into bed with someone I didn't know. They both had equally bomb D but for very different reasons, and I felt like one lucky girl. But then my luck ran out. I played the pull out game one too many times, lost and now my ass would have to play Maury to figure out who baby-daddy-to-be was.

I went to the doctor and found out I was about six weeks along, then went from denial to acceptance rather quickly. I could never live with the guilt I would feel from abortion or adoption.

A month passed and I told a few close friends who were super supportive and excited. Weeks went by and I became attached. I picked out names, I would rub my belly and sing to my little nugget, and I was convinced that everything was going to be okay. I refused to tell either of the guys and avoided them completely by telling them that I just wasn't up for any romps in the sack. I didn't need either of them complicating things. If we weren't committed to each other, did I really expect them to commit to MY baby. Just when I had begun to be okay--no, excited-- about the idea that I was about to be a new mommy, I started having complications.

It started as spotting and quickly escalated to unbearable pain and heavy bleeding. I called my doctor and she told me not even to come into the hospital. She advised me that I was probably having a miscarriage and there was nothing that could be done but to grab a heating pad and wait until my already scheduled ultra sound appointment in the morning. It was then I decided to tell both Jared and Carter that I was pregnant. Dumb? Yeah, I know but I had one of those “I just felt like you needed to know" moments. I thought because I had been friends with both prior to the fact that they slept with me, that they would be nice or at least comforting. WRONG!!! When I tell you that both guys have never text me back so fast, I still have visions of their fingers smoking as they punched in the words I hoped no one would ever say to me: "Get rid of it!!"

I was dumbfounded. The words that followed were even worse ranging from blaming me to “I can't be there for you, even emotionally" to “it's not a good time in my life."

YOUR LIFE? You're not the one with a possibly detaching fetus in your uterus.

I was so done! At that moment, as I learned some very important lessons:

1. A pregnancy test or baby won't turn a sh-tty guy into a good one.

Sometimes, we trick ourselves in to believing that a guy will change, or want to commit if there is a kid involved and we are left disappointed when it doesn't happen that way. The guys probably aren't terrible, they are just scared out of their minds and wasn't ready for the responsibility that comes with a baby. However, before I became pregnant, I had looked past the signs so that I could enjoy all the sex I wanted.

2. If you are having sex with someone, especially unprotected sex, make sure they are at least mature enough to handle any and everything it can lead to.

You have to be ready for anything, and ask yourself questions like 'Will this guy be a good father' if there was a slip up and I did get pregnant. From going half on a baby to telling them a fun little STI invited itself to the party, those talks are not fun, and will show anyone's true character. Is unprotected sex really worth it?

3. Respect yourself first.

Even if it's not true, act as if you are the only person that's looking out for you. I let two people that were not my man talk me into not using condoms (dumb) while not on birth control (dumber), and I definitely was not prepared for a baby (dumbest).

4. Sometimes you just have to keep things to yourself.

Yes, telling them about the baby revealed their true colors and I know that we may never have been “best friends." However, it caused me a whole lot more hurt. So now that they are out there posting about their new #WCW, I went through some serious feelings of rejection, loss, betrayal and more.

In the end, I ended up losing the baby and two people I thought would be in my life for a while, but I gained a hell of a lot more self-respect, discernment, and now I know my worth.

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