Seventeen. My husband and I were seventeen and seniors in high school, when he proposed to me, and we decided to have a baby. WHAT? No, you didn’t read that wrong.
We were babies, having a baby. I’m sure most of you reading are shocked, and think we were crazy. My father in law didn’t believe us that our oldest was planned when we told him years later. I wouldn’t believe it either. Who in their right mind would decide to become parents at that age? Not to mention I looked like I was thirteen.
We found out in February of 2005 that I was pregnant. I was excited, but absolutely terrified. In that moment, it seemed to finally dawn on me that we were responsible for this tiny life growing inside me. I had to tell my parents. My dad took it rather well, but my mom who was a nurse and very pro life told me to get an abortion. I was in shock. She didn’t talk to me for about a week, and then slowly wrapped her head around what happened. Next thing I knew, we were talking baby names, and she told me she would have to be institutionalized if I ever had a girl because of all the adorable baby girl outfits.
School wasn’t too brutal. I informed each of my teachers from the beginning, and they were all understanding. My friends and most other classmates were wonderful, and didn’t judge. If they were, they hid it well. However, one particular moment stood out to me, and still hurts to this day. I was in the bathroom during break talking to one of my friends about my little guy, and another girl overheard. “You’re pregnant and keeping the baby?” she asked. I told her yes and then she said, “You actually think you can be a good mother to this baby?” She also told me I should put him up for adoption.
It broke my heart. I wanted my baby, I already loved my baby, and we were going to do whatever we had to do to give him the best life.
My husband started working right after graduation. Friends and family bought us just about everything we needed, even though he was working. They wanted us to succeed.
Life has been rough on us. We struggled for a long time, but he and our other two boys have never been without.
I’m not the perfect mom, no one is. I scream at my kids like a banshee and lose my damn mind almost daily. My first born is eleven, and the most amazing kid. Our choices were not the brightest, and we should have waited, but our boy wouldn’t be here if we did. I will always and forever be thrilled that we choose to be his mom and dad.