Forever A Teen Mother

I had been seeing a guy for several months when I realized that I was late and could possibly be pregnant. I was in my senior year of high school at that time, and was 17 years old.

I remember being so scared, but I was honest with him and told him that I may be pregnant. He was really upset and scared because he never wanted to have children, he always told me that and at that time in my life it was ok by me to date someone who didn't want kids even though I knew I wanted children one day.

We arranged to buy and take a pregnancy test the next day. We didn't want to have it in our homes, so I took the test at a local park restroom. It wasn't the greatest way to find out, but it was better than our parents finding it.

Sure enough the test was positive and I found out that I was going to be a teen mother. My first thoughts were "How am I going to tell my mom?". I told my boyfriend and he was really upset.

We talked about what to do that night, but I don't think either of us really knew what to do. We decided to tell our parents right away and not hide it. We talked to his mom first and she dealt with it ok. Her oldest daughter had a child at the age we were, so she'd been there, done that. My mom was another story. I was so scared to tell her. After I told her she just looked at me and said "Well I guess you better go to the doctor then.", then she stormed out of the room. That was it. I was left standing with my boyfriend and didn't really know what to do or think.

I know now that my mom really didn't know what to say or how to react at that time, but she did help me throughout my pregnancy. Once the initial shock wore off, she came around. I couldn't have made it without her.

Once I found out that I was pregnant, I had to figure out what to do. As I saw it the only option I could even consider was keeping my child. I am completely against abortion, and I didn't think I could live with myself if I gave my child up, but I did think those things through.

I knew I was about to go down a very long and difficult road, but I also knew that I could do it. I had to do it. I had been careless and put myself in a position to get pregnant, so I had to take care of my child no matter what.

I made a decision to always put my child first no matter what. I no longer mattered. I had to do what was best for my baby.

My relationship with the guy who got me pregnant was already strained before I became pregnant, but me being pregnant was just too much on us both. We didn't stay together very long after I found out I was pregnant. My hormones were so messed up and he was so stressed that we didn't enjoy our time together anymore.

I was devastated when the relationship ended. I felt so alone and abandoned. I was so scared, and I had no one to comfort me or empathize with me. It was so hard to deal with at that time. I really didn't know what to do.

He still picked me up for school and took me home some, but that was about it. We didn't spend much more time together than that.

I continued to go to school and work as a waitress throughout my pregnancy. I would go to school from 8am to 3pm, go home and get ready for work, then work from around 4pm till 10:30pm and sometimes 11pm, then I'd go home and do my homework. The next day I would do it over again. I worked as much as I could to save up some money to buy the stuff my baby needed. I worked weekdays and weekends, I never turned down work. I stayed tired. At school I'd catch a nap at my desk when I could, but I never felt rested.

I missed out on so much of my senior year. I didn't get to date or spend much time with friends. I had no energy to enjoy football games or pep rallies. I didn't go out and party for Senior skip day, I stayed home and slept. I missed my senior prom, and so many other things 'normal' teens get to do.

I was so different from most of the kids at school in so many ways. I was having to grow up so fast, so everything about me was changing. I had so little in common with people I had previously been so alike. It was such a difficult position to be in.

Being pregnant reeked havoc on my emotions. I was an emotional wreck most of the time and really didn't know what to do about it. I cried all the time, sometimes till I actually got sick. I was scared and hurt and angry all at the same time, and couldn't seem to process my emotions. I lashed out at everyone around me. I was not easy to get along with at all because I was so upset all the time. It was much worse than I could have ever imagined it would be.

Not only were my emotions out of control, my body was as well. I had a difficult time carrying my son. I don't really think my body was ready to carry a child.

The least of the worries was horrible stretch marks. My skin stretched so far that the stretch marks busted and bled. It would be horrible for anyone, but for a 17 year old it was kissing bikinis and midrift shirts goodbye forever. I worried at that time about my future as far as dating went. Could anyone get past something so ugly?

I was having difficulty with urinary tract infections. I never seemed to be able to get rid of them even though I drank a lot of water and took my meds. I soon found out that my son was laying in such a way that he was blocking off the passage way to one of my kidneys and was causing me trouble. I was hospitalized for several days. I was in so much pain, that I was always rubbing on my baby trying to get him to shift a little. (Like the doctor advised)

I had trouble breathing because I have a very short waist and my son decided he liked his feet up beneath my ribs. I didn't drive much because I was scared of passing out; I would get so light headed at times. I had to deal with all of this while attending high school and working

I also had the normal problems with pregnancy such as morning sickness, which was not just in the morning, and aches and pains. I was so tired that I'd catch a short nap whenever and wherever I could. I also craved chicken McNuggets from McDonalds and ate them often, but I'd get sick every time.

During my stay at the hospital for my kidney troubles I had an experience of being judged by someone who was supposed to be caring for me. It wasn't the first time I was judged for being pregnant at such an early age, and it wasn't the last, but it certainly has been the most memorable time of judgment I have experienced.

I was having severe urinary tract infections that would not get better and was having a lot of pain, so my doctor put me in the hospital to get some antibiotics by IV. When I was settling in a nurse came in to take my vital signs and all the other stuff they do when you first get to your room. As she walked in I noticed that she was a bigger lady and seemed sort of grandma-ish with a big bun up on top of her head. I could tell she had really long hair, and I was just thinking that it must be really beautiful when she let it down.

Not long after she entered the room, she showed me that I was wrong in my assumption that she was grandma-ish. Grandmas are so comforting and easy to be with, but this was not the case with this nurse. She was really short with me and made several comments about how young I was, and then the big one hit, "If you young girls would just drink enough water then you wouldn't get so many UTI's" which she didn't say in a concerned tone, but a condemning and judgmental one. As if I wasn't scared or upset enough, and this woman was doing her best to hurt me further. She made more comments about "all these babies having babies" and "if they'd just drink water, they wouldn't be put in the hospital" and other things like that before she left.

By the time she left the room I was so scared, upset and angry. I had all of these feelings before my encounter with her, but she made it much worse. I'll never forget how awful she was and I nicknamed her "Big Bunz" both because of the size of her rear and the bun on top of her head, both things that had originally made me feel at ease with her because she had seemed like someone who could be my grandma.

Not too long after all of that happened I was given an ultrasound where they found that my son was blocking off the passage way to my kidney by laying on it the wrong way. That was the reason I kept getting UTI's and why I couldn't get rid of them. It wasn't anything I was or wasn't doing, it wasn't my fault. It did give me a little satisfaction that "Big Bunz" was the one that told me about it and I think I saw a brief look of remorse, but I'm not sure.

This was one of the worst experiences that I have ever had with someone being judgmental. I know if that were to have happened now, me being the person I am now, I would have handled that situation differently. I would have directly confronted her and would have asked for another nurse after reporting her, but back then I was just a scared teen that was unsure about everything. I was vulnerable and I was in pain, and I really didn't know how to handle the situation. Lucky for her I guess.

My back hurt so bad and I was in a lot of pain, so my mom decided to take me to the hospital to be checked out. I found out that I was in early labor. My water had not broke yet, but I was having contractions and wasn't due for 2 months. Once again I was terrified about what was going on. I was scared for myself and I was scared for my baby.

We were both lucky this time because they were able to stop my labor and I was allowed to go home. I was ordered to take it easy, so that's what I did, but two weeks later I went in labor again.

When I went in labor the second time, I didn't realize it. I spent the day at home and I was really hungry, so I ate all day long. I didn't do much else because I just felt really tired. My back hurt some, but it was nothing major.

As the day went on my mom became really suspicious and wanted me to go get checked at the hospital. I really didn't feel like dealing with it, but I went because she wanted me to. Boy am I glad I did.

When they checked me, I wasn't dilated. When asked, I told them my water hadn't broke, but when they checked it had. I wasn't dilated, but my water had apparently broke without my knowledge. The nurses suspected that the fluid had leaked out little by little throughout the day as I used the restroom, and went unnoticed. I don't know how long I had been in labor at that point.

I was unlucky enough that "Big Bunz" was there that afternoon, but she didn't get near me. I pitched one of those fits, screaming at the top of my lungs and cussing, that only a woman in labor can pitch. I meant she wasn't getting in that room and she didn't.

I was in labor for 17 hours before a c-section was done. I will spare you all the details, but just know that it wasn't pretty. I wasn't in too much pain, but boy was I sick. The c-section was done because I had only dilated to a 3 and my baby was in distress.

When the anesthesiologist came in my room, I pitched another fit because they wanted to knock me out. I had trouble waking of from anesthesia when I had may appendix taken out and was not going to be put back under. I was 18 by now and refused to give consent. They ended up doing a local and letting me stay awake, but by this time I was so exhausted that I slept through the whole procedure. I even snored!

No one was allowed in the room with me during my c-section, not even my son's dad. When my baby was born I heard a weak cry and it was sometime before I was allowed to see him. When I did see him, he was put next to my head and I was allowed to nuzzle him for a second or two then someone told the nurse that was enough they had to go. I knew something was wrong, but no one told me anything other than it was a boy, which i already knew. I laid there for what seemed like forever being sewn up. Then I was taken to recovery where I was still alone.

I don't know how long I was by myself, but I was so scared and I didn't know what was going on. I was there alone, as I had felt my whole pregnancy, and no one would tell me anything.

I was finally taken back to my room, and my mom and my son's dad came in the room. I could see everyone had been crying, and they told me that Kenneth wasn't doing very good. He was breathing very shallow and rapidly, his lungs were underdeveloped and he was struggling to breathe.

I found out later that while I was in recovery they had whisked my baby to the nursery through a crowded hall and pulled the curtains. They wouldn't let anyone hold or see him, so everyone knew it was bad, but didn't know exactly what was wrong for quite a while. They eventually let my son's dad see him and I could hear him crying in the hall, so I knew something was wrong for him to cry. That's when they told me what was going on.

So there we were, left with so many questions and no answers until we were told that Kenneth was going to be sent 3 hours away to a children's hospital. The pediatrician called for angel flight, which is what the hospital called their life flight. There was bad weather though, so the helicopter couldn't take off and my sweet little baby had to wait for an ambulance. The hospital we were at had nothing that could help him, it was a small hospital and they were unequipped for the situation. My baby's only hope was for the ambulance to make it with the incubator and other equipment.

We waited and waited and waited. We prayed and cried and prayed some more. Finally they arrived and they went right for my baby. On the way out they brought him into see me, but I got the feeling they didn't want to because they were trying to hurry. I think they did let me see him because they were afraid it may be the last time I saw him alive. He was in that bad of shape, he was struggling so much, and he looked like he was in so much pain.

He was in an incubator so I didn't get to touch or hold him, but I got to stick my hands in these big rubber glove attachments and touch him with those. I was so scared that I was saying hello and goodbye all at the same time. He was only there for a few seconds, then he was gone again and I was left there crying screaming because there was nothing else I could do.

My mom and my baby's dad's mom followed the ambulance and he stayed to help me. My granny and aunt Cheryl were on their way by bus from 800 miles away to be with me and to drive me to my baby when I could leave the hospital.

A nurse came in and explained what was going on with my son shortly after the paramedics left. They gave me a pamphlet with information about the hospital and the neonatal intensive care unit where Kenneth would be kept. The pamphlet had all the information I would need about what was going on, how to check on my child, and what to do when I arrived at the hospital. I was given a phone number and information to give so that I could check on my baby any time I wanted. This hospital was set up to where I could speak to my son's nurse any time while she was there looking at my son. She could tell me what was going on, what his vitals were, and anything else I wanted to know. There were only two babies to each nurse, so there was a lot of individualized care in the NICU and the nurses had time to speak to us no matter how often we called.

I called as soon as my son was at the hospital and had had enough time to be situated. The nurse was really sweet and patient with me. She couldn't understand much of what I was saying because I was crying so hard. We made it through that first call and even though nothing had changed, I was relieved that such a caring person was with him when I couldn't be.

Prior to this call I had put all of my energy into doing all the stuff I had to do to be released from the hospital. I got up and walked as soon as I was allowed to. I was cut from the navel down, and was in so much pain, but I was determined to do what I had to do to be with my baby. I walked sooner than most people do after surgery. There was a very sweet nurse who told me she thought I was going to be difficult because I was so young, but she said I was doing better than anyone she had ever seen recover from that type of c-section incision.

The day after my son was born his lungs collapsed and he was put on a ventilator. He was also pulling out his IV, so they had to give him some medicine to calm him down. I didn't know what to do. There I was 3 hours away, and I was so scared my baby was going to die and I'd never be able to hold him. I made a decision that I would stay that night, but I was leaving no matter what the next day. I called every couple of hours to check on Kenneth, but I felt so helpless.

My doctor didn't want me to travel yet, so he wouldn't release me from his care. I told them I was leaving anyway, and I did. I left against medical advice so I could make it to my baby. I needed to be with him and I was his mother and he needed me!

My arms ached to hold Kenneth from the moment he was born. I had carried him for 7 1/2 months, then he was ripped from me, and I felt the loss. I couldn't reconnect from 3 hours away.

When we got to the hospital, I went right in to see him. He looked awful with all those tubes and wires connected to him. The nurse explained what everything was. She told me what each number on the monitor was and what it meant. She explained procedures she was doing, and what went on around us. She explained that premies didn't like to be stroked because it was too much stimulation, but they got comfort from touch as long as my hand just rested somewhere on his skin. The nurse also told me that I could let him wear socks that I had bought him instead of the hospital ones, and that I could leave a few pair and they would change them. He could also have a little hat from home too.

I was given a little blankie doll to wear under my shirt to get my scent on it. After wearing it through the day, it would be put next to Kenneth so that he could be comforted by it.

I spent hours by his bed. Talking to him, looking at him, touching him, looking at his numbers, all the while my arms ached to hold him. I would have given anything to be able to lift him up into my arms, but I couldn't. All I could do was what I had been doing, pray and just be with him.

I made a decision early on in my pregnancy to breastfeed. There were a lot of reasons behind my decision, but it was mostly because I knew it was healthier for my son.

Kenneth was unable to eat when he was born. At first he was just given IV fluid, and then he had a feeding tube where he was given my milk through it. I started pumping soon after he was born with a manual pump that the hospital gave me. They kept my milk in a freezer for me so that Kenneth would get the colostrum when he was able to have something to eat. When I arrived at the children's hospital they were really supportive of my decision. They had an excellent pumping room with electric pumps, tvs and glider rockers with curtains around each chair if you wanted privacy. I sat there so many hours pumping so that my milk supply would be good when Kenneth could eat.

I pumped round the clock every few hours. It was hard at times because I just wanted to feed Kenneth, not a machine. I spent many night pumping sessions crying. I learned that pumping was easier if I saw Kenneth first, so that is what I did. I visited my baby for a while, then pumped, then went back and see him again. I did this for a week and a half before I could nurse him.

The day finally came for me to hold him and that day was the day before my first Mother's Day. I got to hold and nurse my baby that day. He had improved so much from the day he was born. Nursing him felt like the most natural thing in the world and we both caught on quickly. I got to nurse him next to his bed in a rocking chair. There are no words to describe how I felt at that moment, but I will tell you at that moment I knew everything was going to be ok.

Kenneth was 2 weeks old when he was well enough to go home with us. I had previously refused to leave the hospital to take my finals and the nurses and doctors were aware of my upcoming high school graduation. The doctor made a decision to let Kenneth go home the day before my graduation.

He got to watch both me and his dad graduate high school, and what a day it was for celebration. I celebrated with my baby, safe at home.

I looked much younger than 18 when I had my child, although 18 is awfully young to have a baby. Everywhere I went with my baby I was given dirty looks. Some people were even brazen enough to ask how old I was and I got several snippy comments about "babies having babies".

I was judged everywhere I went. Many people were rude to me about being so young with a baby. Many mistook me for my son's sister, asking me where our mom was. Many people made comments about me being where their tax dollars were going. I had some really awful experiences as a young mother. The looks, the snippy comments, the rudeness...I never thought people acted that way before then.

During our time at the hospital, me and Kenneth's dad reconnected and decided to give it another shot. Driven by fear and out-of-wack hormones, we decided we both wanted to be there for our baby.

I will refrain from all the details about our relationship out of respect for my son, but I can tell you now that we were not right for each other. I can also tell you that two wrongs don't make a right and just because you have a child with someone, doesn't mean the two of you have to be together to raise your child together.

Caring for my baby was not easy. I was going to summer school to get my last credit. I was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster I had been on, and wasn't getting much sleep. I also wasn't yet confident in my parenting skills, and got really frustrated at the beginning because my son seemed to gravitate more toward my mom than me.

I eventually learned how to care for him, but it took a lot of sleepless nights and a lot of practice. I also didn't get much of a break because I was nursing and didn't want him to have bottle (and it turns out he refused a bottle anyway).

I moved out of my mom's house and into an apartment with my son's dad when Kenneth was a couple months old. In addition to caring for my child, I now had to care for a home. It wasn't easy, and I spent so much time alone.

I was battling severe migraines that left me partially paralyzed on my right side soon after my son was born. I started having them at age 16, but they stopped while I was pregnant. I found myself caring for a baby during horrible migraines when I needed to be taking care of myself. I had no phone to call my mom for help, and my son's dad didn't seem to think it was necessary to let her know what was going on before he headed off to work for the day. I can't count the diapers I changed with one hand.

In addition to the migraines, I was battling what they thought was depression, but later found out was bipolar disorder. I had a terrible time dealing with my emotions. I hated myself, I hated my life, I hated my boyfriend (eventually husband).

Kenneth was prone to getting bronchitis, so he cried a lot. He was so miserable. I had to give him breathing treatments around the clock for nearly his first 3 years of life. He was always sick. The treatments were awful, I'd have to hold him down to give them to him and it was exhausting for us all.

I had wanted to be a mother my whole life, although not as early as I did. I loved my baby so much, I had spent his first two weeks terrified that he wouldn't make it, and I couldn't be more thankful that he was alive. But I was so overwhelmed that the early days were really hard to enjoy because of all the problems.

We did have fun together, and we laughed and played, and did all the things mothers do with their babies, but I was never fully at ease because I felt like the next rough patch was right around the corner, and it was, it always was.

I married Kenneth's dad when Kenneth was 7 months old. It was not a good marriage. We had our good times, but but they got few and far between. Our marriage was full of fear and resentment, and led to anger. We were both angry, and we both felt trapped. Neither of us wanted to be with the other, but we were trying to "make it work" because we had a child.

With all the stress, came escalating abuse. Mental and physical abuse became the norm in our marriage. I don't know what we were thinking, but we stayed even though we brought out the worst in each other. I was married to him for 4 years, but I think we both checked out of the marriage way before that.

I am pretty sure I hit my midlife crisis in my early 20's, but I hope it wasn't my mid way point. Having a baby so young made it difficult for me to even know who I was as a person. I defined myself as a mom and that was all I really knew. I didn't have that period of self-discovery as a young adult that is so important. I only knew how to be a mom. I don't even think I knew what my favorite song was at that point.

I became aware of this as my first marriage was ending and I was entering into my second marriage. I began trying to cope with that feeling of restlessness I was having, so I spent a lot of time on the computer and reading self help books. I am still learning about myself and trying to answer the question "Who am I?".

I'll be 28 the end of this year, so I'm pretty close to 30. My oldest son is 9 years old now and is such a joy to be around. We have had more difficulties, but we have had triumphant victories over them. I have changed, my ex has changed, our son has changed, all for the better. There is one thing that hasn't changed over the years, I am still a teen mother.

I'm no longer a teen, but I am a teen mother. I still have people commenting that I'm too young to have a nine year old. I still have people add up the years to find out how old I was when I had my son. I still get "those" looks. People are still judgmental almost 10 years later. I guess I will be a teen mother forever.