Disclaimer: In Real Life is a platform for everyday people to share their experiences and voices. All articles are personal stories and do not necessarily echo In Real Life’s sentiments.
This story is about a young M’sian woman named XY* (anonymised) who had a baby while studying abroad and kept it a secret from her family.
I’m a Malaysian woman who moved to the UK 12 years ago. Today, I have a stable job, a husband, and two dogs. But what many of my friends don’t know is that when I was a student, I fell pregnant and tried to keep it a secret from my whole family.
When I was 19, I had left Malaysia to study medicine in the UK. In my first year, I met a guy in my class, and we started dating. Fast forward 6 months later, and one morning I woke up feeling nauseous and dizzy.
I could tell the signs were there, but part of me refused to believe it until I was staring at the pregnancy test results. I was pregnant!
I couldn’t believe it, because I’d been using contraceptives from day 1. In a single morning, my whole world turned upside down.
I was a first-year student, with end-of-year exams coming up, and I had got myself pregnant.
I had no idea what to do. Telling my parents was out of the question. They were the traditional strict Malaysian parents who never let me hang out with the opposite gender, let alone go on a date.
If they found out that I had gotten pregnant, I’d say goodbye to my degree, goodbye to my freedom, and I’d be on the next plane back to Malaysia for good.
When I told my boyfriend, he urged me to go to the NHS (National Health Service) to ask for an abortion.
In the sexual health clinic, they told me since I was young, in good health, and not mentally ill, I could not apply for an abortion. I was given a pamphlet with the number of Social Services I could call if I wanted to consider adoption.
When I broke the news to my boyfriend, we had a huge fight over it. He tried to convince me to go for an abortion through illegal means, but I told him abortion wasn’t an option for me anyway; I was a Christian and in the eyes of God, abortion means killing a baby.
Furthermore, I knew that no doctor would perform an illegal abortion because they would lose their licence.
But since he didn’t want to take responsibility for my baby, I realised it was up to me to figure it out on my own, so we broke up.
I spoke to a nun who gave me a few words of reassurance.
I never felt as alone as I did back then. I had no one to turn to, no one who could help me. I felt like it was the end of the world.
The next few weeks were a blur. I remember missing my classes and not joining my friends when they went out on weekends.
At one point, I even considered taking my own life, rather than face my parents’ anger or drop out of my degree. I reasoned that, if I died, at least my baby would not face an unhappy life.
As I wrestled with these thoughts, I remember wandering the streets alone, crying and lost, and I ended up stopping in front of a church.
There was a nun inside, and she struck up a conversation with me. I told her everything that I was going through, expecting her to judge me or tut at me.
But she didn’t lecture me on seeking forgiveness or ask me to beg for mercy. Instead, she said:
“God’s plan works in mysterious ways. Trust in Him, and He will not forsake you. You are not alone.”
Feeling a little less hopeless, I carried on with my pregnancy in silence. I only told one other person, an older woman I was friends with at my church.
After my exams, I went looking for a part-time job and found one as a waitress at a cafe. I told my parents I found a job over the summer and I wouldn’t be coming back for the holidays.
They gave me their blessing, still believing I was their model student daughter. Inside, I felt so much guilt, but I had no choice but to keep it a secret from them.
By this time, I’d made the decision to give my baby up for adoption. The guilt weighed heavily on me. How could I give up my own baby? But the thought of going home and facing the church and my family’s shame felt like a heavier burden.
I called social services and they told me that immediate family members take precedent over adoption. If no relatives were willing to take the baby, then adoption can take place. My heart sank again.
Seeing my expression, the social worker reassured me, saying, “If you don’t want to tell your parents, we will keep this confidential.”
When I confided this with my close friend, she told me she knew a childless couple and said I could meet them next week. She explained everything gently and assured me the baby would be in a loving home.
I have her to thank for arranging everything for me, from the meeting with the childless couple, and informing social services, to getting me assigned to a social worker who handled the adoption process and paperwork.
I gave birth to a baby boy and gave him up for adoption.
When it was time, I went to the hospital to give birth. The NHS provided excellent care. This was back in 2012 when the system was still strong, before the budget cuts.
On the day I handed my baby over to social services, I broke down. I couldn’t stop apologising, feeling like I had failed as a mother and a Christian.
For months after, I suffered from post-pregnancy depression. I felt empty, like a part of me was missing.
It took many years to finally find closure for what I did. As for my parents, I waited until I graduated and found a job before I broke the news to them. Suffice to say, they didn’t take it well, but we’ve since patched things up.
Now, I’m 31 years old, married, and focusing on building my career.
My life is stable, but every now and then, I think about the baby I had given away. I wonder if he’s happy and if he’s growing up in a good family.
Looking back, I realise how fortunate I was to have people around me who were open-minded and educated about reproductive health. It made all the difference.
When I read about a young woman who was recently convicted of murder after concealing her pregnancy, my heart broke for her. I’ve been in that desperate place, and I know the fear that comes with an unplanned pregnancy.
I can’t help but think that if that girl in the news had similar support, maybe things would’ve turned out differently for her. If only Malaysian culture didn’t place such heavy judgement on young women who make mistakes.
I’m not proud of what I did at 20, but I’m not ashamed either.
Looking back, I was a scared girl with no life experience, doing what I thought was best.
If I hadn’t given up my child, I wouldn’t be where I am today. My experience taught me that life is messy and sometimes the right choices aren’t easy.
If you’re going through the same thing as me, my advice is not to give in to the fear and desperation. Talk to someone, anyone, even if you’re afraid of judgement.
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