When I was 16, I found out some news that would change the entire course of my life.
When the new year rolled around, I had to have my tonsils out. I had an allergic
reaction to the anesthesia I was given, and because of that, my doctor prescribed me an
antibiotic. Through the course of working with this brand new doctor, she informed me
that I wouldn’t be able to become pregnant with the infection that I had, but she did
recommend that I get on birth control. So my mom and I went to the doctor and was
prescribed the pill; she told me to just wait for my period to start taking the contraception.
Well I waited for a couple of weeks, and I never got my period. So we went back to the
doctor and she continued to tell me that I couldn’t be pregnant, but she gave me a blood
test anyway. We left the office, and I didn’t think about it again.
A few days later, I locked the keys in my car at school. So my sister and my boyfriend went
to my house to get the keys. When they got there, my mom informed them that I was
pregnant. She received a phone call from my doctor earlier in the day; I was at school,
so I was not there to answer. The doctor told my mom I was pregnant. My mom then
called my dad and grandparents to tell them the news; she also was the one to tell my
sister and boyfriend. When my boyfriend came to me with the other set of car keys, he
let me know the news. My response was “that isn’t a funny joke.” To that he replied,
“I’m not kidding.” When I walked in the door a few minutes later, my mom met me on the
landing and said, “Honey, you are pregnant. I just want you to know I will support whatever
decision you make.”
I was 16. I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do. I was not in the best mental shape. I had
been a major weed smoker and drinker. Pregnant, REALLY? I was 16, and now my
life was officially over.
I knew from the first moment I was not an advocate of abortion, for me. For other people,
I support their decision; it’s their body, their decision. I just knew I couldn’t do that to myself.
I also knew I couldn’t carry a baby for nine months and give him/her away. I made the decision
I was going to keep the baby.
For many people, learning they would become a mother at 16 is already terrifying, but I
was about to have another level of difficult life-altering decisions. I found out that my
boyfriend had a disease he was dying from and that the disease was genetic. The baby
I was carrying could have this debilitating, most likely deadly disease. Because of this
added factor, my doctor, boyfriend, and boyfriend’s dad all suggested I have an abortion.
I vehemently refused. I put my foot down and let everyone know this was my decision
and that regardless of the 50% chance my child could have the disease, that I was not
going to have an abortion. At this moment, I became the problem. I was knowingly
doing something against most people’s wishes. This ultimately resulted in my boyfriend
and I splitting up and me becoming more isolated than I already was.
My junior year ended with me being four months pregnant, and luckily few people knew
I was with child. I was out of the spotlight, in my mind. However, over the summer, my belly
got so big so fast, the doctor insisted that I come in for an ultrasound. Her concern was
that I was carrying twins. “Listen, lady, I’m not old enough for one let alone two babies.
You better make sure there is only one in there.” Thankfully the ultrasound only showed
one! A couple of months later, I came back for my senior year super pregnant.
At school, I was seen as a mutant. The school administration didn’t want me there; they
wanted me to drop out and to attend the teen parenting program at a different school,
as apparently my condition would be seen as cool and other teens would want to get
pregnant too. My response, “It isn’t in the water, and why would anyone want to be
pregnant in high school if they didn’t have to be?” was not the response they wanted.
Admin wanted me to become complacent and do whatever they wanted me to do. I didn’t.
I remained in school to the dismay of my teachers and staff.
I was put on display in many of my classes as an example of what not to do during high
school. I could hear whispers and see people pointing and laughing as I waddled down
the hall. Those moments taught me that the decisions I made were about me and what
I needed to do for myself and my child and screw everyone else. The more confidently
I carried myself, the fewer people made fun of me and talked about me. I lost a lot of
friends, but I gained the best one I could ever ask for.
My little sister and I were constantly at war, but the moment I found out I was pregnant
was the moment I found my lifelong best friend. We became two peas in a pod. We
hung out together, laughed together, cried together. Everything I was going through,
she was there with me. She would walk with me in the halls of the high school,
go to doctor appointments with me, and even became my Lamaze partner. In those
moments, I was so grateful for her. In addition to her, my parents were also so
supportive. They made sure I didn’t feel isolated at home. They knew when I set
my mind on something, I become unstoppable. Granted at the beginning, my
parents were less than excited, but they never kicked me out or made me feel like I wasn’t
welcome in the home. As a family, we made and decorated a nursery,
watched what we ate, and created a united front against the rest of the world.
Unfortunately, one set of grandparents, my paternal grandparents, were devout
Catholics and because I was an unwed, teen mom, I was going to hell. I was
not welcome in their home; they left me out of family celebrations and even
excluded me from holiday cards. I was the black spot that needed to be removed.
While one set of grandparents disowned me, the other set made sure I knew
that I was wanted. They, too, became my biggest supporters. For the holidays
and other occasions when my paternal grandparents that didn’t want me around,
my Granny and Poppa, maternal grandparents, made sure I knew that I was
wanted and so was my unborn child. My Granny, mom, and aunt threw me a
baby shower and made me so many handcrafted blankets, clothes, and other
items. I knew I had people who were in my corner.
Even with all of the stress, negativity, and pressures of being a teen, my pregnancy
was a healthy one. I had mild morning sickness and was fatigued in the afternoon,
overall things went smoothly and quickly. Then came the night I went into labor.
I thought for sure it was false labor because my contractions started at three minutes
apart. I knew from my labor classes I should be at the hospital at five minutes. So
I woke up my parents and asked them to time my contractions. They agreed they
were at three minutes apart; at that, my mom ordered my dad to drive me to the hospital.
When I walked into the ER, they asked my due date. It was still three weeks away.
They said based on the timing of my contractions, I would be having my baby in a few
short hours. I panicked. I immediately asked to go home and continued to tell my dad
that I wasn’t ready or prepared for any of this. He calmly hugged me and said,
“Let’s go have a baby.” To this, I replied with tears and a slight nod.
My dad called my mom who then had to go and wake up my labor coach. My sister
who was so abruptly awoken thought she was late for school. She grabbed her robe and
headed for the shower before my mom stopped her and informed her that I was in labor.
They joined me at the hospital along with the rest of my supportive half of the family.
Even the baby daddy and his parents were there. My sister and mom held my hands,
my dad rubbed my back, and everyone else watched as I labored on.
At 5:19 on the morning of Oct 27th, I welcomed a beautiful and perfect baby boy into
my 17-year-old life.
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