Why Spain? A Backstory

06/23/2016

In 2002, I was a junior in college with plans to study abroad in Spain. I had honed my Spanish skills, passed the obligatory language test, selected a college–Universidad de Navarra at Pamplona–and chosen courses for the following semester. I moved with my mom in the summer of 2002 so I could live rent free and save money. The plans were set in motion, but the universe had other ideas in mind for my foreseeable future.The previous winter, I was at a friend’s birthday party where I met the man who would father my children. There I was, standing in the kitchen with my friend Johnna when a handsome engineering major wearing sunglasses (at night) tucked behind shoulder-length dreads approached us with a simple hello. He walked away and I remember Johnna saying, “he’s kinda cute for a Rastafest” and I agreed. When I ran into Brutha Brown a months later, he remembered my name, and we exchanged numbers.

Then what was supposed to be a study date turned into a kiss, which turned into me falling in love months before I was set to leave.

While I was living with my mom, Brutha Brown and I continued to send each other letters and poetry and drawings and pictures. When I was ready to return to Albuquerque, where I’d been going to school, I needed a short term lease with cheap rent. Brutha Brown owned a house and offered a room for $200. Not only was the rent affordable, but living with him would allow me to enjoy what I thought were inevitably going to be our last months together. 

I hadn’t lived with Brutha Brown for more than two months when I learned I was pregnant. When I realized the gravity of my situation–pregnant just months before I was set to leave for a dream trip Spain–I was, to put it lightly, heartbroken. Moreover, coming from a family with numerous unplanned pregnancies, I felt like I had disappointed everyone. I’d always prided my parents with my academic success and ambition–I was going to be the exception, the one who got out–and learning that I’d become pregnant felt like failure.

I was faced with one of the most difficult decisions I’ve had to face: to abort my pregnancy and continue with my plan to study abroad or to birth and raise a child far before I felt ready. I have always been staunchly pro-choice, and I will admit that I seriously considered abortion. Ultimately, though, it was a conversation I had with Brutha Brown that confirmed my ability to succeed with option two. 

So, I became a mother far before I felt prepared to be a mother and I canceled my enrollment in Pamplona. But I never forgot about Spain or about my desire to go there. 

In the thirteen years since my son was born, I finished college, got a PhD, helped raise two boys, went from minimum-wage poor to middle class, learned a lot about love and about life, experienced brokenness and healing, and had some adventures. But I have never forgotten about Spain.

It seems like the past thirteen years have all been leading to this trip. It has taken years of saving money and PTO and years of trusting, but here Papa Brown and I are: on a plane, headed to Lisbon to Spain to Morocco. To Pamplona, finally, where I was called to over a decade ago.

I’ve never looked back on my decision to have my son, for he is so much more than any experience in Spain could ever be. I just kept looking forward, trusting, knowing that Spain would always be there.