My Personal Story
As Promised here is my story, of when I was sixteen, and had discovered I was pregnant. I wrote it when I was about Twenty or so, and have changed it and edited it since. Please read and enjoy.
The Longest Nine Months of my Life
Teenagers are invincible, or so we think we are at the time that we are teenagers, later on we will learn we are not, no mortal is. But, when we are young and in the heat of adolescence nothing can convince us otherwise. We have all been there,even the oldest of citizens if asked, will reach back inside themselves to that feeling of unadulterated freedom, and openness. That feeling of full exhilaration at being alive and unstoppable with the world at your feet,waiting for your turn to take a bite out of it. A world of fun and no responsibilities awaited you every morning that you woke. Being a teenager is one of the best times we will have in our lives, although, as many have learned,as I have, it can also be tumultuous. For some, that feeling of starting your adult life with an empty book open and in front of you, waiting to be filled with your words and actions, can slam shut as fast as it was opened.
The some I refer to are Teenage mothers. I was one, no I change that I am one. It is not a phase in your life like your twenties or thirties, that you go through in anticipation of moving forward to the next. It is a title and condition that will be how you are defined, by yourself and others for the rest of your life.It is an unchanging characteristic of your personality, of your life, and of you.
I grew up in an upscale middle class suburban Long Island with my parents who had been married to each other since 1968,and were still together and in love. There was also my older sister, an honor roll student, who excelled in school and music. And who was every parent’s dream of a child. My mom never worked outside of the home, and my father was home every night by six for dinner with the family.
I had it all. I was not beaten or molested, my parents were not drug addicts or alcoholics and I went to church every Sunday. I wasn't neglected or emotionally abused. I was loved, and nourished and given every opportunity within my parent’s means. I point this out to you, because so many people think that it is the girls from the bad homes, the ones with all the disadvantages, and cruelties in their life that end up a pregnant teenager. That is a myth. One I wish to dispel right here and now. Anyone can become a teenage mother. Teen pregnancy does not discriminate. Although once you are one, you are discriminated against. But to become one, all you need to be is a teenager, a girl, and sexually active. There are no other qualifications to meet. There is no typical inductee into this club that I belong to. We are all different from different backgrounds, races, and religions, and with only one thing in common between us, having a child, when we were still children ourselves.
In 1988, in the midst of my teenage days of fun and irresponsibility, I was sixteen and the epitome of a teenager. My life was school, breaking curfew,looking at cute boys, and trying to persuade my parents to let me go to the latest party. Always trying to convince them that I was old enough to be responsible, and be treated like an adult. Lying and manipulating were courses that I practiced and excelled in, as all teenagers do. I was having the time of my life, living as if the world was mine to conquer, with nothing to hold me back. In other words, living the typical teenage lifestyle.
I was carefree and reckless, nothing mattered to me but parties and friends and good times, and nothing could ever change that. Of course, everything changes, although as a teenager you have a hard time coping with that concept. It does nevertheless change. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse, but always for the unexpected. Something I found out one warm June morning in 1988.The following is my story. From how I went from normal everyday teenager like many of you reading this, to a Teenage Mother. And how my life and how I, have never been the same.
I met John quite accidentally. He was a casual acquaintance of a girlfriend of mine through her school. She and I not being old enough to have our drivers licenses yet needed a ride to the bowling alley, where we were to meet some friends of ours. After we had exhausted all leads with no success, Jennifer thought of calling John, and asking him to go with us. John, not knowing that we had asked him to come out with us solely for the use of his car, said yes.And history in my life was made. It was that small and that simple. No big fireworks, or hoopla, no warning, and no parade. My life was one way when I woke up that morning, and unbeknownst to be by the time I would close my eyes to sleep that night it would be changed forever.
John and I hit it off right away. He wasn't my usual type, but something between us clicked instantly. Although, I had had many boyfriends by my sixteenth birthday, and I had already begun being sexually active by then, John made me feel something different inside. Something I hadn't felt with anyone else yet.
John and I dated exclusively for four months. It was a good relationship I guess. As far as teenage relationships go that is. We liked each other, and enjoyed doing things together. We liked some of the same things, and we both seemed to hit it off with each others friends. So all in all I would have to say, it was good.We started having sex, about two weeks into our relationship. I was on the Birth Control Pill, I got them from my friend, she had a mom that was open to sex and birth control, so she would get extra supplies from her doctor and give them to me. All seemed fine. We were having fun, we were enjoying each other, and we had not a plan in the world past the next day.
The nausea started quite suddenly. Almost overnight, I was overcome with the urge to vomit, almost every hour of the day. It was horrible. One of the worst cases of the flu I had ever had. I didn't seem to have a fever, but the vomiting and the dizzy spells were overwhelming. My stomach fluttered when it wasn't busy vomiting, and my appetite suddenly became voracious. Within three weeks, I felt like someone else had taken control of my body. It wasn't mine, and I had no control over what it did, or when it did it. My breasts started to hurt, and feel heavier than usual. My stomach cramped, and I would get terrible heartburn after everything I ate. It never seemed to get better only worse. Something else was wrong.
I cant remember when Jennifer persuaded me to take a pregnancy test, but she finally did. So one sunny afternoon, we strolled into the local pharmacy together and nervously walked down the aisles. We almost laughed at ourselves for the way we suddenly felt once we got in the store. We had bought condoms at this pharmacy numerous times, but now that we were searching for a pregnancy test, we felt awkward and nervous. We kept looking around, to make sure no one we knew was around. And every time and adult came down the aisle we would pretend to be looking at something else, anything else, than what we were actually there to buy.
After reading the directions on numerous boxes, we chose the one that was the least complicated. Walking up to the cashier, I grabbed a pack of gum and threw it down on the counter in front of the test, in a lame attempt at hiding it. As if the cashier was not going to notice this huge pregnancy test hidden behind a small pack of juicy fruit. But I was desperate to hide from the world what I would soon hide from myself. It was funny, all the times that I had bought condoms at that store; I was never anxious or nervous. I didn't care that the cashier would know that I was sexually active. It never bothered me to flaunt that. Having sex was the popular thing. But, purchasing that pregnancy test,advertised something I wasn't happy to flaunt, stupidity and carelessness.Pregnancy was not the popular thing. Girls my age didn't sit around at parties talking about getting pregnant, or having babies. I was in big trouble and didn't want any one to know it.
The cashier gave me my change, and I sheepishly grabbed it and practically sprinted for the door. As Jennifer and I left, I watched the cashier lean over and whisper something to the older women standing next to her. I couldn't make out what they said, but I knew it was about me, and my pregnancy test. Jennifer told me I was just getting paranoid. But I knew I was just preparing for what lie ahead of me if that litmus paper in the test turned pink. Whispers and giggles behind my back for as long as I lived. Pointing and stares as I walked down the street with my baby in her carriage. Endless days of being referred to as, “The one who got pregnant at sixteen.
Even though the test said to use your first morning urine, we cheated and took the test the moment we got back to my room. I figured if my life was going to be over, I might as well find out as soon as possible. Although part of me wanted to get it over with, the other part wished to stay in the land of happy denial.Maybe I just wouldn't take the test, maybe I could convince myself that I was just really late, even though my period had come like clock work since I was twelve years old. Maybe I could just close my eyes real tight and wish the whole thing away. Or maybe I could wake up and live in reality. After all I had tried the denial thing for two months, and the symptoms were getting worse, I had to face facts, denial was no longer a viable option.
So reality took over, although not really by my choice, and together Jennifer and I stared at the little vial of liquid, to which we had to put a piece of litmus paper, with my urine on it.We stared,and stared and stared. All we could hear was my mothers egg timer counting down the seconds to the end of my teenage life. When the timer went off, I jumped out of skin and five feet into the air. It was the loudest noise that I had ever heard. Jennifer opened the vial and looked at the litmus paper. My room was so quite you could hear my heartbeat, and her sudden intake of breath,as she compared the color of the paper to the side of the pregnancy test box.In all my life I don't think I will ever experience a more tense and emotional moment than that afternoon. The afternoon, that Jennifer, a girl I had known since she and I were little girls playing with our Holly Hobby dolls together, Turned to me, and in disbelief uttered the words I will never forget as long as I live…” Your Pregnant.”
From that moment my life would never be the same. In that one instance I lost all I had ever had, never to get it back, and had moved on to a life I never expected. At that very moment that Jennifer said the word pregnant, my heart felt like it was hit by a freight train, and my stomach was sucked into the earth by the worlds largest earthquake. I sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity. Then when I was finally ready to speak, I threw up instead.
A million thoughts went through my mind, racing around in circles, jumbling themselves all up together. I couldn't get one single thought to make sense,let alone come out of my mouth. So many questions, so many fears, I thought my head would explode from the pressure. How could I be pregnant? That's the one thought that I could hear ring in my ears over and over again. I’d had sex so many times it wasn't like I didn't know what I was doing. I took the birth control pill, and used condoms on the few occasions when I had forgotten to take the pill. Only once or twice had I forgotten to take the pill, and John didn't have a condom on him, so he just pulled out instead. John said it was safe. I figured it was his body; he must know what it could and could not do, so I trusted him. How on earth could this have happened to me? At that moment I realized what a claustrophobic must feel like. Closed in, alone, trapped with no escape, and no air to breath. Terrified beyond words.
My options were obvious and few. Abortion, Adoption, or motherhood. None of them seemed to pleasing, or easy. And none of them could be decided until I told John. After all he did have the right to know, he was the father. Telling him wouldn't be easy, but once I did, at least I would have someone to turn too,and someone to help lift some of the weight of the situation off of my shoulders. After all it was his responsibility too, right?
Three days later while John was driving me home from a night at the movies, I broke the news. He didn't speak for a while, other than to ask me if I was sure. For the first time I got to see what my face must have looked like when I heard Jennifer say it to me. John turned pale as a ghost, and all expression left his face. He appeared to age right in front of my eyes, like in some futuristic horror film. I gave him time to let it sink in before I asked him what he thought we should do about it. Once I did, he didn't answer me. He shook his shoulders, and stared out the window of his car. I pressed him again with the question of what we should do about it, and when he finally answered me, He said, “ I don't know. Whatever you decide will be fine with me, I guess, I can`t handle this right now. I need time to adjust.”
He needed time to adjust, was he kidding? Adjust to what. I was the one with a life inside me. I was the one whose body was soon to become a creature from another planet. Getting fat, and throwing up night and day, bloated ankles, and swelling painful breasts. Cramping, backaches, and Charlie horses sprung on me out of nowhere. Heartburn, varicose veins, and water retention everywhere. Not to mention eating everything that isn't tied down, and thumping and kicking from inside my own body, usually right on my bladder, to send me running to the bathroom every waking moment. He wasn't the one who couldn't smoke anymore. He was the one, who wouldn't be able to party anymore, and hang out till all hours of the night.
I couldn't believe that was what he had to say. But as angry as I was by what he had said, I quietly shook my head in agreement and said nothing more. I was pregnant and 16, the last thing I needed was to be pregnant, sixteen and alone, without a boyfriend. Then where would I be? So I silently agreed, adjustment time was necessary.
Johns adjustment period went on for two months. By now I was four months pregnant, possibly five. I wasn't sure, because I hadn't been to a doctor. John said he didn't have the money, and I didn't know where I would find a doctor that wouldn't want to call my mother the minute I walked into his office, or one that would work for free, so I guessed at how far along I was. Even if I could find a doctor that fit that description, and could pay him, I had no idea how to find one. I was a girl from an upper middle class neighborhood. I had never seen a free clinic in my life. Besides, I thought Clinics like that were made for girls from low-income families, or minorities, and I wasn't either. So I figured they weren't made for me. I was the only one out there in my situation. Or so I thought back then.
For two months, we both walked around skirting the subject. I tried to bring it up, but John would continually say we have time, don't worry. But we didn't. I was already past the safe limit to have an abortion. Which really was OK with me, because the idea didn't thrill me in the least. I was pro-choice, I still am,but at that age the thought of an abortion, was worse than the thought of giving birth. I just didn't think I could go through with that. So I was slightly relieved for that reason that we had waited too long to talk about it.
The only time John did talk about our impending baby, was when I had my head in the toilet, which although was quite often, the conversation didn't amount to much. He would ask how I felt, and tell me once again, “ Don’t worry, we have time.Why upset yourself when you are feeling so sick.” End of discussions. I believed him, I had to. I was soon approaching my seventeenth birthday, I didn't want to be thinking about diapers, and formula, midnight feedings and teething pain. I wanted to buy some clunky old car, and make love to my boyfriend, drink with my friends and have a good time. I wanted my life the way it was before that damned pink strip. But that wasn't going to happen. I was reminded of that every night when I would attempt to go to sleep, but never did. Because a baby inside me would choose that time to kick inside my stomach all night long.
My parents were very Catholic, as was my family. They had raised my sister and I to believe that premarital sex was a sin. They would never understand or forgive me, let alone themselves. I knew my mother; she would have taken this pregnancy as her fault. She would question how she raised me, and her parenting skills. She would guilt herself into an ulcer, even though it was no reflection on her. She did nothing wrong, I did. She wouldn't see it that way. Although my mother and I back then fought over everything I did, mostly battling over who would control my life, I still cared how she felt. And I knew my pregnancy would kill her, and then me. Believe me their sixteen-year-old daughter coming to tell them she was pregnant was not something they ever thought they would hear. They couldn't even have conceived of it.
So I spent my days avoiding my parents at all costs. Wearing baggy clothes to conceal my weight gain, and locking myself in my room when I was home. Luckily for me I was always fluctuating on my weight, so no one was suspicious when I started to gain again. If I had to throw up I would hold it down, sometimes even swallowing it back down if I had to. Anything to avoid them from hearing me throw up constantly. That would have been to suspicious. It wasn't the best moments of my life, I can tell you that for sure.
Then there were my friends. Most of them knew I was pregnant, I had told them myself. Some thought I was lying, just to get attention, and some talked about it behind my back. Others believed me but didn't really want to talk about it either. What teenager do you know wants to spend their time talking about adult subjects like babies. None is the answer to that question.
So it became a long charade. I lost my job, because I was in the bathroom all the time feeling ill. It was one lie after another, one denial on top of denial; I was never so alone in all of my life. I had no one but myself and my bedroom walls to talk to, and they weren't exactly talking back. My life became acting like myself. I would go to parties and smile, go to church with my parents and pray, and go on dates with John and have sex, never mentioning that his child was inside my womb. I was becoming a very good actress. And it was beginning to take its toll.
Soon all John and I did was fight like cats and dogs. And when we weren't fighting,we just weren't talking at all. My friends started to drop one by one. No one wanted to hang out with a girl who couldn't drink or smoke, or have a good time. Who was always sick and too tired to come out and party. I as a downer. I was gaining a child I never asked for, and losing everything I ever had and wanted.
My life felt like it had been sucked into some huge blackhole, twisted and stripped of all I had and being spit back out the other side a whole new person. Naked and alone, confused and scared, with no control over anything in my life, including my own body. I was like a newborn baby again. Starting all over again from day one. I would soon give birth to my daughter, and at the same time give birth to a whole new me.
I agreed and hung up the phone, but I knew two things at that moment. The plan would never work, and even if it did, I would never be able to give my baby up. I had become attached to her, and although my future as a mother was uncertain, I knew I would never be the same, whether I gave her up or not. It was too late, the caterpillar I was, was already on its way to becoming a butterfly. The problem was I was still too scared to tell my family, but that wouldn't matter anymore, in a few more days someone else would tell them for me….my daughter.
Four days later, John was home on winter break from college. He took me out to dinner to celebrate our plan, and then to a motel to have sex. We had a good time for the first time in a while. John was very relaxed, more relaxed than I had ever seen him in the prior months. I on the other hand was a wreck, trying to figure out how to tell him, that I wasn't too happy with the plan. John was showering when I first noticed the change. My belly had been very active; kicks, and punches, one kick was good enough for me to see the outline of a foot. But then, I noticed the feet were up near my chest, when they were usually near my belly button. I was in the middle of calling John over to see my stomach and its antics, when the first pain hit.
I moaned in pain at the sharp quick pain that had hit my abdomen so suddenly. It was not a bad pain at first, but pain all the same. A stretching pain, as if someone inside me was pulling apart my intestines in different directions. All the blood drained from my face, as I was hit with the reality of what was going on. I was in labor. I froze in fear, and could do nothing but wait for John to come out of the bathroom and find me. Every time I tried to bend over and get out of the bed, the baby kicked me and a strong pain enveloped my back and stomach. Panic was about to set in.
John came out a few minutes later to hear the words, “ I’m in labor”, pass through my lips. “ Don’t be silly, no your not, calm down, its not time yet.” John replied to me very calmly as he helped me up out of bed and into my clothes. “Its just those false ones everyone is always talking about, my Mom said she had them with me.” He added as he shuttled me out of the motel room and into his car. As I sat down in the car I started to feel better, the night air was nice and breezy and the pains were quite dulled compared to what they had been in the room. By the time John dropped me back at my house, I was convinced he was right and was in false labor.
John kissed me goodnight and I went into my house hardly experiencing any pain at all anymore. I was so relived that I wasn't in labor. I figured that maybe I was just hungry, grabbed two pieces of leftover birthday cake from a celebration that afternoon for my dads’ birthday, and off I went to bed. But my relief was short-lived. The pains came back at around 2am. They were steady, long, and painful. I didn't know if it was real or false, but I knew it wasn't normal and it hurt like nothing I had ever felt in my life. Like a doctor was performing a kidney transplant without any anesthesia. The word pain failed to describe what I was feeling; no word could describe it, ever.
This went on for almost three full days. I was nauseous and feverish. I had horrible heartburn, and the pains never stopped. My stomach was achy and hard, and I was going to the bathroom constantly. My sister was sick as well with fever and nausea and horrible dizziness. I was beginning to think I had what she had, just more pronounced maybe because I was pregnant. That is what my parents thought as well. That last night, February 24th 1989, my father told me if I didn't feel better in the morning he would take me to the doctor, because my sister was getting better and I was only seemingly getting worse. I begged him not to, told him I was fine, and it would go away. I always hung onto flu's longer than most people, but he was adamant. At that moment I almost told him what I suspected in the back of my mind, but I chickened out again, and let him leave the room.
That night, probably from the sheer exhaustion of being up almost three days straight, with pain so bad that I bent the bars of my daybed from squeezing them to avoid screaming when they hit. I fell asleep. When I awoke, I heard my parents starting breakfast in the kitchen, and I felt something different from what I had felt in the previous days. I got up and went into the bathroom, clad in only a tank top and underwear, and sat down on the toilet. I felt like I had the worlds worst constipation, and started to push. But nothing came out. The pains were coming fast now, and throbbing as they did. Suddenly, and I don’t know why I did this, I put my hand down at my vagina, and there it was, I felt it, there was something there…the babies head.
I let out a scream at that moment that I don’t think I could ever duplicate. My mother was in the bathroom in a flash, and I asked her to close the door. I was in so much pain, all fear dissipated and I spilled the secret I had carried for months. As I clutched the towel rack on the wall next to me for support when the pains came, I told my mother I knew what the problem was. She looked at me,and knew instantly almost like we psychically touched. “Your pregnant”, she stated, and I nodded “Yes”. She quickly assessed the situation and stated I was having a miscarriage. “ I don’t think so“, I replied. She looked at me and mustered up all the strength that I knew she had in her to ask the next question, “ Why how far along are you?” I got another pain, and screamed out quickly ”Eight months I think.” I never saw the look on my mothers face; she was out the door, and screaming for my father before I could look up. And from then on things moved rather quickly.
There was so much chaos in my house at that point, I had almost forgot the pain that I had been in, almost. Nothing can take your mind from that pain completely, no matter how hard you wish it would. The ambulance arrived quickly and I was rushed inside. By then all I wanted was to give birth and get it over with I had had enough, I was mentally and physically drained, and was at my limit of endurance.
Once in the ambulance they begged me not to push, because my daughters head was already crowning. But even the thought of giving birth in the ambulance couldn't stop me from pushing. Not pushing at that stage would be like trying to stop a freight train with a feather, it wasn't going to happen. As much as I felt the pain, the whole situation was very surreal. I almost thought that it was happening to someone else, not me, I was watching from the sidelines, how could this be my life? I was sixteen, it couldn't have been happening; even then while I was in labor part of me was still in denial.
The moment we left the ambulance, I was rushed inside an elevator, and the last thing I remember seeing in that last moment of my childhood, was my fathers face at the side of the ambulance. Once I saw the look on his face, everything that was happening suddenly became real. It was me, and I was having a baby. In that split second, my childhood was gone. And things would never ever be the same for me again.
My daughter was whisked out of the room quickly she was in fetal distress and needed to go into the neonatal unit right away. I barely got a glimpse of her little blood soaked body. Suddenly fear, a type of fear that I had never experienced before swept over me. I was a mother, I knew it at that moment, and that feeling has been there ever since. I laid back and closed my eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when the doctor told me she would be OK, and then I faded out to sleep.
I spent a week in the hospital, and my daughter spent two weeks. She was very sick, between the fetal distress, the meconium, and the heart murmur she was born with. I hadn't taken care of myself while I was pregnant, and we both paid the price afterwards. She still has the heart murmur but other than that she is in good health.
I’m twenty-nine know, and my daughter is almost twelve years old. I married her biological father, but the wedded bliss only lasted eight months. We later divorced, and things between us, have never been good. I remarried back in 1993, and now have a six-year-old son as well. After a long time, and many talks, my parents and I closed the gap that I felt had been between us when I was sixteen, and know we couldn't be closer. They love being grandparents, and despite my age when I gave birth to their first grandchild, I think they are proud of me, well I hope they are.
I realize now that the fear I had of my parents was ridiculous and could have cost me my daughters life, as well as mine. Your parents are your parents no matter what, I know that now, but back then, as a teenager, sometimes you don’t realize that. Theirs is the only unconditional love out there; I should know I’m a mommy now too. If I had learned that lesson a little earlier, those nine months that are still etched in my mind would have been a lot easier.
Nothing is ever as bad as our minds make it out to be. Everything has a way of working out in the end. I may have lost past of my childhood because I got pregnant at sixteen, but I gained so much more. I have a closeness with my parents, now that I wouldn't give away for anything. I have two beautiful children whom I love and who love me. And I have learned from what I have been through. I spend my time talking and counseling pregnant teens and teen moms online, giving them my experiences and hoping, that I can help them, make it through easier than I did. As painful as my experience was, I would never regret it. The only thing I regret is putting myself through the lies,and secrets, and thinking that John and I ever had a
putting myself through the lies, and secrets, and thinking that John and I ever had a chance just because we had a child together. That doesn't make a marriage, and it never will.
Although it has been tough, I think I have made a good life for her. As I will continue to do forever. I still get comments from time to time from passersby about how young I look and so on, but I have learned to ignore them. What matters is my daughter, and that I make it right for her. I will spend my life with that goal in mind, and I will never stop. If I could turn back time, yes I would have waited to have a child, and I would tell anyone to take that advice, learn from my life. Live for yourself, and then for your children. Believe me there is time to do all you want to do, and your childhood can be the best time of your life, if you let it. Remember that the next time you are having unsafe sex, or your sleeping with your boyfriend when you think you aren't really ready. Being an adult isn't all its cracked up to be, don’t make yourself one before your ready.
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