Becoming a Dad at 20, Part 1: Wait, I'm a Father?

Part 1: Wait, I'm a Father?

Born November 1998. Grew up in an ordinary household, went through middle and high school like everyone else. July 2017, I enlisted at 20 — 18 by international standards. Two years later, April 2019, I was discharged. Back in the world with zero plan.

Why Japan? Looking back now, I can piece something together. I was young and irrationally confident, Japanese was supposed to be easy for Korean speakers, and there were all these posts floating around about IT jobs being wide open for foreigners. Probably a mix of all that. After getting out, I did manual labor for a month, stacked that on top of my military savings, and left for Japan in June 2019 with about $2,200 total.

Everything was foreign from day one. Couldn't understand a word. The subway was confusing. At a convenience store, when the cashier asked if I needed a bag, I had no idea and just responded in English. "No, it's okay." Even now I genuinely don't understand what I was thinking, planning to live alone abroad without knowing the language at all. Maybe I was just dumb. Calling it "baseless confidence" feels too generous, honestly. That was just dumb.

Then came some ordinary summer day in July barely a month after I'd arrived and she messaged me. I'd met her a month before coming to Japan. We'd been in touch since, but that day something was off. Her messages felt wrong. She kept circling something without ever getting to the point. The longer it went, the louder that one thought got: no way... it can't be... she's not about to say what I think she is. I tend to trust my gut on things like this, and it's usually right. Funny enough, the moments I say "no way" are exactly when it turns out to be true. That day was one of those days.

She told me she might be pregnant. But since nothing was confirmed yet, I told myself again: no way, it can't be. She said she'd show me a test tomorrow. I didn't sleep a single second that night.
I spent the whole night telling myself it wasn't true. My gut was right.

At 5:34 AM, a photo came through. Two lines.

When something hits you too fast and too hard, you just stop. I once had a 500kg pallet come down directly on my hand, and for about five seconds I couldn't make a single sound. You know those movie scenes where someone's pinned under a rock and can't move at all? I always watched those and thought: if you just push hard enough, you can move it at least a little. Turns out no. It doesn't budge. Not even a millimeter. And in those five seconds with a pallet crushing my hand, that was somehow the first thought that came to mind. I still can't believe that's where my brain went. Opening that photo felt exactly the same. I couldn't do anything. Not a single sound came out.

I went outside, sat on the bench in front of my place, and smoked for three hours. I didn't know what I was supposed to be thinking about. Even so, I told her I'd take responsibility.
Looking back now, I think it was just instinct. I didn't tell my parents I already knew what they'd say, so there was no point. They found out five months later.

I thought back to a TV show I'd watched in high school. A young couple, barely past 20, raising a kid and barely scraping by. I remember watching and thinking: raising a kid at that age must be rough. Never once crossed my mind that a fleeting thought like that would one day be about me.

I knew, deep down, that my options weren't many. Before any of this, I'd always thought abortion wasn't something I was strictly against if the situation was truly unavoidable and both people agreed, it could be a last resort. That was my position. But when I actually faced it, I couldn't. There's a life growing that carries my DNA. I couldn't erase that. My wife felt the same way. She said that even if I couldn't take responsibility, she'd raise the child herself. The second option was to just drop everything and run. But I knew I'd regret it for the rest of my life. And honestly, I felt ready in whatever rough, half-formed way a 20-year-old can be. I thought: it's just me taking the hit, right? I can handle that. Simple as that. So no to abortion, no to running, and that left one answer.

And that's how it happened. One month in Japan, and I was a father. No Japanese, no job, money draining, head completely wrecked, no idea where to even start. I had absolutely no clue how to begin untangling any of this. And the whole time, somewhere out there, that tiny life was growing. Slowly, quietly, steadily.

One thing was certain. I need to find a part-time job.

To be continued.