“We need to discuss this privately,” he said cautiously. “But you should prepare yourself.”
The air was stifling. Hailey’s face tightened.
Before I could even utter a single word, before reality shattered against the stone, I screamed.
I don’t remember how I managed to get up. I only remember my body collapsing as Dr. Adler closed the door and uttered the words no parent should ever hear:
“Your daughter is pregnant. Approximately in her twelfth week.”
The silence was oppressive.
“No,” I murmured. “It’s impossible. She’s fifteen. She can practically go nowhere but to school.”
Hailey buried her face in her hands and began to sob uncontrollably.
I tried to contact her, but she withdrew – not from me, but under the weight of the unbearable truth.
Dr. Adler explained that a social worker was necessary given her age. I nodded impassively and listened as if I were underwater.
Shortly after, a social worker named Lauren arrived and asked to speak with Hailey alone. I paced the hallway, my nails digging into my palms, as the minutes dragged on.
Upon her return, Lauren looked serious.
“Mrs. Carter,” she said softly, “we need to talk.”
My legs were wobbly. “Please… tell me.”
She explained that Hailey’s pregnancy was not voluntary. Someone had hurt her. It wasn’t her decision.
I felt dizzy. “Who?” I whispered in a hoarse voice.
Hailey hadn’t yet mentioned the person’s name, Lauren said, but she implied it was someone she saw often. Someone she was afraid no one would believe.
Discover more
health monitoring devices,
medical clothing, and
resources for family therapy.
Then Lauren asked gently, “Does Hailey feel safe at home?”
