Support Teenage Mothers

It still amazes me how much my life has changed over the course of a year. Sometimes I think about the freedom most people my age have and I’m envious. I’m not angry about what I’ve lost, but I am disappointed by other people’s lack of appreciation for what they have. If I didn’t have any responsibility, I would be getting on a plane and heading out looking for adventure. I would travel and explore the world. Thinking about what could have been makes me a little sad, but I know everything happens for a reason. I know I have a purpose and the life I dreamed of didn’t fit into the bigger picture. I find it comforting to just go with the flow, day after day, letting life unfold around me. I’ve stopped making plans for myself because I know that wherever I’m meant to be is where I’ll end up someday. My son is the adventure that I was meant to have. Now that he’s here, I don’t know how I ever lived without him. If I could go back in time, I wouldn’t change anything. I’ve come to the realization that life will happen the way it’s meant to no matter what you do. Whether you’re rich or poor, beautiful or ugly, talented or not – you’ll still end up in the same place you were meant to. I find it funny when people try to plan out their future, like having it down on paper will prevent a turn of fate. A high school teacher of mine once said there are only two types of people in the world - those who walk through life backwards looking at the past and those who walk along looking ahead to the future. This has really stuck with me over the years because I realized that what he said made complete sense. You can either hold onto the past or embrace the future. I have chosen to look forward. My dreams may have been put on hold, but that doesn’t mean that I have to toss them out the window. I have learned to appreciate what I have, rather than wanting what I don’t. I consider myself a very fortunate person - not because I have nice clothes, a high paying job or a big house - but because I have a beautiful son, a loving family and a supportive partner. I have everything I need and I couldn’t be happier.  

When my baby was just three-months-old, it was time to go back to school. I made a promise to myself – that I would get my diploma. I was determined to finish what I had started. The first day was absolutely horrible. I hadn’t spent more than a few hours away from my son since he was born. Leaving him was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I cried when I pulled out of the drive way, but I managed to pull myself together before I got to school. I don’t think I let on how much it bothers me, driving away from him day after day. There have been so many times in the last six months when I just wanted to quit. I felt so guilty for going to school, like I was a bad mother. One night, when I was really stressed out about life, my mother looked me in the eye and said, “You have to do this for him.” From that moment on, I had a better understanding of why it was necessary to get an education. My son needed me to succeed, so we could both have a little stability in this crazy world. Every time I feel like giving up, I just look at my son and he gives me the strength I need to go on.

The first three months of motherhood was difficult for me, as I imagine it is for everyone. I came home from the hospital, with this helpless baby in my arms, and it was overwhelming. The responsibility is overwhelming. Every mother experiences the transition differently. My issue was exhaustion. People who don’t have kids don’t appreciate sleep. Even an hour of rest is a blessing for new parents. My son has never been a good sleeper. I remember talking to other mothers and they would tell me that their kids slept through the night from the start. I know envy is a sin, so I guess that makes me a sinner. My son was, and still is, breastfed – so he gets hungry more often. I knew I was sacrificing sleep for his well-being, so it didn’t bother me once I got used to being tired all the time. The first month, I was a zombie. When he cried, I got up, changed him and fed him. After a while, I could pretty much do the routine with my eyes closed. The hardest part was doing it on my own. My boyfriend started college in June, just a month after our son was born, and he had to live an hour away because of his class schedule. Taking care of a newborn is the toughest job on earth and I didn’t get many breaks. Excluding school, I’ve gone out maybe three times since he was born. Being with him is more important to me. Over the past eight months, I’ve watched him grow and change. I remember the first time he smiled at me like it was yesterday. We’ve laughed together, played together and, on occasion, cried together. But we got through it. The transitional stage of becoming a parent is tricky, but love and patience will carry you through.    

The day my son was born was the best day of my life. Everyone tells you about the pain, but nobody tells you about the incredible high you get when you see your baby for the first time. The process of getting to that moment was not quite as wonderful. I was induced at 8 p.m. and went into full-fledged labour at midnight. I remember lying in the hospital bed – my boyfriend and mother were sleeping on cots beside me – and all of a sudden feeling a sharp pain in my abdomen. The doctor had told me that I wouldn’t feel any contractions until the next morning and recommended that I get some sleep. However, I felt what I felt, so I got up and tried to wake my boyfriend. He told me to go back to sleep, so I laid down beside him. Then I felt another sharp pain. My mother woke up and went to get the nurse. She came in and hooked me up to a monitor that showed my contractions. I kept looking at the screen with all the wavy lines and it was comforting to be able to see the contractions coming on before it happened. I asked the nurse to leave me hooked up to the machine. Every time I had a contraction, I put my head between my knees. I used my breathing techniques, which came in very handy, to ease the pain. After a while, I just wanted to jump off a bridge to make it stop. The nurse came back after a few hours to check how many centimetres I had dilated. I was only at three. I asked her to give me the drugs, but she said I needed to be at least four centimetres to get an epidural. An hour or so - and many contractions – later, the nurse came back and told me I was still only three and a half centimetres. At this point, I was seriously considering the bridge. She told me I should get into the special tub they have in the birthing room and see if that sped things up. I stayed in the tub for about 10 minutes. When I got out, I went to sit down on the bed again. Then, I felt something quite unlike a contraction – it was the same feeling you get when you drop something and try to catch it before it falls. I called for the nurse and she checked me – sure enough, it was time to push. I could see the shock in her eyes when she said I was fully dilated. She ran to call the doctor and then rushed back into the room. She put me on the bed and called for another nurse. My mother and the other nurse held my legs up and they told me to push. My boyfriend was hovering beside me. I closed my eyes and held tightly to the metal bars on the bed. I remember screaming, loudly, and being told to conserve my energy. I saw the doctor frantically throwing on her scrubs and getting into position. Then, I felt an indescribable pain rip through my body and I knew it was over. I looked down – I hadn’t dared to open my eyes once while pushing – and I saw him. He was lying there on the bed between my legs and he looked so beautiful. I turned to my boyfriend and said, ‘it’s our baby,’ as though I was surprised to see him. My boyfriend was tearing-up, but I had used up my entire tear supply during labour. I just smiled and looked at the baby as the nurse dried him off. They put him into my arms and I was blown away by the rush of emotions. I fell in love, right then and there. Not like the love between a man and a woman – a much deeper love. The doctor had to clean me up, so the nurse took the baby into another room to get him warmed up and put drops in his eyes. When the doctor finished, I got right up and walked over to see him. He was in an incubator to keep him warm and I reached in and touched him. He was perfect. He was born at exactly 6:38 a.m. on a Friday. It was the best moment of my life.

Last year, when I was just 18-years-old, I found out I was five months pregnant. For most people, this is wonderful news. When my doctor said the words, ‘you are pregnant,’ I pictured a happily married couple with good jobs sitting in my place and grinning at each other. Truth be told, I never planned on having kids, so it came as quite a shock. I remember sitting there beside my mother and not being able to speak. My eyes slowly filled with tears and I looked down at the floor. The moment, if I were to describe it, was similar to being told the world was coming to an end. That’s what it felt like. My chest got all tight and my breathing became rapid. I got up and left the office. I went outside, where my dad was waiting in the truck for my doctor’s appointment to finish. I got in and I started to cry. He put his arms around me and asked what was wrong. In my opinion, there’s nothing harder than telling your father you’re pregnant. I could see the sadness in his eyes, but I realize now that he was upset because I was crying, not because of what I told him. When we got home, I called my boyfriend and went to see him. I told him in person because I wanted to make sure we could talk about it. He was distraught, to put it politely. He wanted me to ‘take care’ of the problem. At first, I agreed. We were young, still in school, living with our parents and flat broke. We were not fit to be parents. Two days later, I went to the clinic. My mother came with me, even though both my parents oppose abortions. It was then, as I sat next to other young women in my situation, that I realized something. I had a revelation, so to speak. I realized I was taking the easy way out. Something inside me told me to leave, to walk away and never come back. It was such a forceful urge that I stood up right then and left the packed waiting room. I was shaking, but as soon as the fresh air hit my face, I knew I was doing the right thing. I drove away from the clinic with a sense of relief, which surprised me. It was the first time I had smiled since I found out I was pregnant. I never regretted my decision. In fact, thinking back, it scares me to know how close I was to destroying the best part of me. I’m now in my final year of college and I have a beautiful eight-month-old son named Hendrick who has the biggest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Not only have I discovered an indescribable love, but I’ve learned I’m a lot stronger than I ever imagined. Even though everyday is a struggle, my son keeps me going and always manages to put a smile on my face. Hendrick is truly the best thing that ever happened to me. He is the source of all my happiness. As it turns out, my boyfriend and I are very capable parents, despite our age and financial situation. We know now that all you need is love and patience to raise a child. We worked through everything together and when our son was born, we both had tears of joy in our eyes. We fell in love instantly with Hendrick and grow more in love with him each day.