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Shelbie
Mom to Kamberlyn Nicole
Born Still on December 27th, 2010
Abbeville, Alabama
I had a perfect pregnancy, never had any blood pressure problems or any problems really. I was due on February 1, 2011.
Showing posts with label Teen pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Teen pregnancy. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Brooke
Mom to Maddox
September 14th, 2010 - January 14th, 2011
Dixon, Illinois
I got pregnant in December 2009. I am a teen so at first it seemed like a bad situation but I knew I was made to be a mother. Abortion or Adoption never crossed my mind. I knew I wanted to love and be with my child, and my entire pregnancy I studied, researched, and prepared for my beautiful son. I put my whole self into every decision I made for him and when he finally entered this world on September, 14th, 2010, my whole life changed. I was so ready to be a parent. I loved my son so much already.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Shawna
Mommy to Austin Liam
January 2nd, 2008
Adams, New York
On April 28th, 2007, I found out I was pregnant for my firstborn son, Austin. I was 17 at the time and scared to death but I was happily going through with the pregnancy. I went to the doctor that my boyfriend's mom recommended because she had him with her last son...and I wish that I had gone with my first instincts about him because he turned out to be the last person who should have taken care of us. He was very opinionated even going as far as to tell me that I was too young to be having a baby. That may have been, but I believe that it was completely unprofessional to say that to me.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Allyson
Mom to Olivia Grace
Born Prematurely on January 15, 2011
Frisco, Texas
I will never forget my first morning with morning sickness. At first I thought it was the stomach flu, but after a week I decided it was time for a test. It took 8 tests to make me believe I was actually pregnant. I called my boyfriend, who lived hours away at the time, with the news. The excitement started from there.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Angelina
Mom to Alana Elizabeth
November 16th, 2008 - December 26th, 2008
Tampa, Florida
On April 6th, 2008, at 15, I found out I was pregnant and my entire life changed. I moved in with my mom and enjoyed every second of my pregnancy.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Katie
Mom to "Sprout"
Lost on September 22nd, 1993
Columbus, Ohio
I was 18 years old in summer of 1993, soon to be heading away to college on a scholarship. I had broken up with my long-time boyfriend that spring and began dating someone new and fun, a summer fling expected to run its course by autumn.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Laura
Mummy to Lacey Jai Hughes
August 25th, 2010
England
When I found out I was pregnant, it was a big shock as I was just 19 at the time. I have grown up around young children and have always loved them.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Jenifer
First Baby, Miscarried August 27th, 2010
Ohio
I found out i was pregnant June 21, 2010. I told my parents a couple of days after.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Nycole
Mom to Catherine Lynn Kaat, Born and died January 2nd, 2005
Dakota and Adrianne Kaat, June 18th & 20th
Sheboygan, Wisconsin
I found out I was pregnant with Catherine when I was 15, she was my first child. I didn’t find out till I was already 12 weeks pregnant with her, and at first I had planned on giving her up for adoption. When I was 20 weeks pregnant with her, I went into false labor, and she ended up dropping into the birth canal.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Amanda
Mom to Ailynn Chevy
Born Sleeping September 12th, 2009
Mesa, Arizona
Last months of my junior year in high school I found out I was pregnant, yes I am a teen mom. Life for me truly changed when I say on the pee stick “Pregnant”, at that moment my heart broke and I just cried. This was the one thing that I never wanted to happen to me and it happened. There was no way I was going to tell my parents, they would kill me. So as time went by I did not tell my parents anything. I was also a single teen mom to make things worse on me, the ex wanted an abortion and I was not going to do that so he left, and I told him to stay away from me and my baby.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Mallory
Mom to Jacob "Brodie" Lankford
Born sleeping on February 28th, 2010
Mobile, Alabama
Mom to Jacob "Brodie" Lankford
Born sleeping on February 28th, 2010
Mobile, Alabama
I can‘t believe that a year has come and gone so quickly. An entire year since I sat telling my best friend how I just had to have my strawberry cheesecake ice cream at that exact moment. An entire year since I thought I had lost my mind when I cried while watching the movie, “Knocked Up.” Most importantly, it has been an entire year since the day I found out that I was a going to be a mommy.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Rachel
Mother to Isobel Nixie
Due August 7th, 2001; lost to miscarriage at 9 weeks
Kansas City, KS
Two months shy of my nineteenth birthday, I missed a period. As a freshman at college with few close friends and no mode of transportation, I didn’t know what to do or who to turn to. The whole thing was stupid anyway. I was having manic and depressive mood swings coming off of Prozac. I was feeling rejected by a guy so I started fooling around with another guy who was nice and who missed his girlfriend back home. It was just a silly fling to get us over them. None of these are excuses, just factors. Like I said, it was stupid.
Regardless, here I found myself. I had to ask my roommate for a ride to the drugstore so I could buy a pregnancy test. I tried to hide it from her but I’m sure she knew, even though she never said anything about it. I spent what seemed like hours in the “community bathroom” of my dorm floor reading the test instructions, peeing on the stick, and subsequently freaking out – all very quietly, I might add.
After a long night of crying, I started making a plan. I decided not to tell the father. For one thing, neither of us had any intention for our fling to last past the semester. I didn’t really want to be with him, nor he with me. Plus, I didn’t want him to have any say in the pregnancy or the baby’s future. I guess I was selfish, but we were both 18 and neither of us were ready for parenthood.
I started looking at open adoption agencies. I even thought of giving my baby up to a gay or lesbian couple to raise. I knew that I couldn’t provide for a child as well as a family could. I also knew that although I support the right for a woman to choose, I personally could not get an abortion because the whole procedure terrified me. I was going to have the baby. The problem was how to hide the pregnancy from my family.
By the time Christmas break arrived, I was going crazy trying to figure everything out and keep it all a secret. I truly had no one I thought I could turn to with this kind of information. I was so scared and worried about how my parents would react if they found out. I really don’t remember how I acted those weeks at home, but I vividly remember one night.
I was crying in bed after everyone else had gone to sleep thinking about what I was going to do. I finally broke down and prayed to God and told him that I just couldn’t handle this. I said I was lost and I needed help. The next day, my stomach hurt just a little. A few days after that, I started bleeding.
At first, I thought it was nothing, but after a day I started to worry. I read about ectopic pregnancies where the fetus attaches itself outside of the uterus and as it grows it could kill the woman. That had me really worried so I finally broke down and decided to talk to someone. I chose my preacher’s wife because I knew she was very young when she had her first child. I was so afraid to tell her because it would be admitting that I had done something wrong. However, I really had no choice.
We talked for about 2 hours before I told her the reason for my visit. She didn’t criticize or lecture or anything. For that I was relieved. She called a few people she knew with medical backgrounds and asked their recommendations. They suggested a visit to the hospital and so we went.
Once in the ER, time seemed to stand still. We waited to be called. We waited for a nurse. We waited for a doctor. We waited for a sonogram. We waited for results. It could have been days for all I knew. I remember when they did the sonogram and how I really wanted to see my baby, but was too shy to ask. I wish I had. I think that would have made it feel like a real baby instead of just some medical problem. They kept asking me how far along I was and if I was sure. I knew then that something was wrong.
The whole thing was very impersonal. It felt like they were all shaming me for what I had done. No one spoke to me like I was an expectant mother. They talked to me like I was a stupid child who had gone and screwed everything up. No one tried to reassure me that it would be okay. They acted like I was inconveniencing them. No one really acknowledged that there was a life involved, including mine.
The results finally came back. I was supposed to be 9 weeks along, but the baby measured at 7 weeks. The baby was at least two weeks too small and had no detectable heartbeat. They ruled it a spontaneous abortion (miscarriage) and said to go home and just let it pass. If I kept bleeding for more than 2 weeks, I was to return for a D&C to clear everything out. Then we left.
That was it. It was over. Immediately, I felt better. I could breathe again. I could think again. I could smile again. Even the pain seemed to go away as soon as we left the hospital. I just had to tell my parents. I felt like I could now because it was over and there was nothing that they could do or say to make it worse.
I was nervous and I could barely get the words out through my tears but I told them the bare details: that I was pregnant, but the hospital said there was no heartbeat and that the pregnancy would end on its own. My mom cried. My dad only asked if there was anything that could be done to save the baby and I told him no.
As far as the physical end of the pregnancy goes, I continued bleeding and having cramps, but took some prescription medicine to ease the pain. It felt like a normal period. One day I passed what felt like a clump of something. I went to change my pad and there it was – my dead baby. It was just a round, gelatinous clump of bloody tissue about half the size of my fist. I wanted to look at it, but I was repulsed. I flushed it like a goldfish. I wasn’t ready to admit it was my baby.
After it was over, I was so thankful that I didn’t have to go through everything and could maintain a normal life. I went back to school as if nothing had happened. I did tell the father that I had been pregnant and miscarried. All he said was “good”. We didn’t really talk much after that. I decided that there was nothing more to the story and never thought I would really care. At the time, I was still so self-absorbed that it didn’t really occur to me that I was rejoicing at the death of a baby.
It was months before I really thought about it again. It was approaching the due date and I started to think of the baby that wasn’t anymore. At first it was more like research. I wanted to see how far along I’d be and what the baby would look like. Then I started looking for information on miscarriages and the causes. Turns out there’s not much. Most miscarriages have no known cause. Some pregnancies just end. I started worrying that whatever the cause, it might affect me in the future and maybe I’d never have children. I still think about that.
Most of the stuff I found on miscarriages had to do with couples trying to have a baby. Very little had anything to do with teenagers and I found nothing on the loss of an unwanted child. I guess they figure that if it’s unwanted, the only thing to feel is relief at the loss. And I did, but then I didn’t. It became a child – a child with my DNA.
I decided that I should honor my baby and not just forget. I began by choosing a name: Isobel Nixie. Isobel means consecrated to God and Nixie means spirit. In essence, I named her for her death, though I picked the name before looking up the meaning. I also decided to give her a permanent presence in the form of a tattoo. The tattoo is her initials (INW) placed on top of each other to form a square with lines in the middle. It’s located on the inside of my hip, the relative position of her entire life.
I did all kinds of internet research on pregnancy, miscarriage, child birth, child development and all sorts of related topics. It was then that I discovered that there wasn’t much for people like me. I hadn’t wanted a child. I didn’t plan the pregnancy. But I was still feeling things for this baby. I constantly thought about how old my girl would be and how my life would be different with her.
That was almost 10 years ago. I still wonder about what my daughter would be like now. I still wonder if I’ll be able to have kids, should I decide to. My biggest fear is that she was my only chance to be a parent, and I blew it by praying for her to go away. There’s nothing like thinking you killed your baby. I know I didn’t do anything physically, but I still wonder if I didn’t kill her by not loving her from the beginning.
I know my story is different from many of the others, but I feel like I need to put it out there for the other women who may end up in the same position I did. Just because it wasn’t planned and it took me longer to come to terms with it, doesn’t mean I didn’t love my baby and doesn’t mean I don’t miss her. It’s so nice to see that there is more support out there now than back then.
Regardless, here I found myself. I had to ask my roommate for a ride to the drugstore so I could buy a pregnancy test. I tried to hide it from her but I’m sure she knew, even though she never said anything about it. I spent what seemed like hours in the “community bathroom” of my dorm floor reading the test instructions, peeing on the stick, and subsequently freaking out – all very quietly, I might add.
After a long night of crying, I started making a plan. I decided not to tell the father. For one thing, neither of us had any intention for our fling to last past the semester. I didn’t really want to be with him, nor he with me. Plus, I didn’t want him to have any say in the pregnancy or the baby’s future. I guess I was selfish, but we were both 18 and neither of us were ready for parenthood.
I started looking at open adoption agencies. I even thought of giving my baby up to a gay or lesbian couple to raise. I knew that I couldn’t provide for a child as well as a family could. I also knew that although I support the right for a woman to choose, I personally could not get an abortion because the whole procedure terrified me. I was going to have the baby. The problem was how to hide the pregnancy from my family.
By the time Christmas break arrived, I was going crazy trying to figure everything out and keep it all a secret. I truly had no one I thought I could turn to with this kind of information. I was so scared and worried about how my parents would react if they found out. I really don’t remember how I acted those weeks at home, but I vividly remember one night.
I was crying in bed after everyone else had gone to sleep thinking about what I was going to do. I finally broke down and prayed to God and told him that I just couldn’t handle this. I said I was lost and I needed help. The next day, my stomach hurt just a little. A few days after that, I started bleeding.
At first, I thought it was nothing, but after a day I started to worry. I read about ectopic pregnancies where the fetus attaches itself outside of the uterus and as it grows it could kill the woman. That had me really worried so I finally broke down and decided to talk to someone. I chose my preacher’s wife because I knew she was very young when she had her first child. I was so afraid to tell her because it would be admitting that I had done something wrong. However, I really had no choice.
We talked for about 2 hours before I told her the reason for my visit. She didn’t criticize or lecture or anything. For that I was relieved. She called a few people she knew with medical backgrounds and asked their recommendations. They suggested a visit to the hospital and so we went.
Once in the ER, time seemed to stand still. We waited to be called. We waited for a nurse. We waited for a doctor. We waited for a sonogram. We waited for results. It could have been days for all I knew. I remember when they did the sonogram and how I really wanted to see my baby, but was too shy to ask. I wish I had. I think that would have made it feel like a real baby instead of just some medical problem. They kept asking me how far along I was and if I was sure. I knew then that something was wrong.
The whole thing was very impersonal. It felt like they were all shaming me for what I had done. No one spoke to me like I was an expectant mother. They talked to me like I was a stupid child who had gone and screwed everything up. No one tried to reassure me that it would be okay. They acted like I was inconveniencing them. No one really acknowledged that there was a life involved, including mine.
The results finally came back. I was supposed to be 9 weeks along, but the baby measured at 7 weeks. The baby was at least two weeks too small and had no detectable heartbeat. They ruled it a spontaneous abortion (miscarriage) and said to go home and just let it pass. If I kept bleeding for more than 2 weeks, I was to return for a D&C to clear everything out. Then we left.
That was it. It was over. Immediately, I felt better. I could breathe again. I could think again. I could smile again. Even the pain seemed to go away as soon as we left the hospital. I just had to tell my parents. I felt like I could now because it was over and there was nothing that they could do or say to make it worse.
I was nervous and I could barely get the words out through my tears but I told them the bare details: that I was pregnant, but the hospital said there was no heartbeat and that the pregnancy would end on its own. My mom cried. My dad only asked if there was anything that could be done to save the baby and I told him no.
As far as the physical end of the pregnancy goes, I continued bleeding and having cramps, but took some prescription medicine to ease the pain. It felt like a normal period. One day I passed what felt like a clump of something. I went to change my pad and there it was – my dead baby. It was just a round, gelatinous clump of bloody tissue about half the size of my fist. I wanted to look at it, but I was repulsed. I flushed it like a goldfish. I wasn’t ready to admit it was my baby.
After it was over, I was so thankful that I didn’t have to go through everything and could maintain a normal life. I went back to school as if nothing had happened. I did tell the father that I had been pregnant and miscarried. All he said was “good”. We didn’t really talk much after that. I decided that there was nothing more to the story and never thought I would really care. At the time, I was still so self-absorbed that it didn’t really occur to me that I was rejoicing at the death of a baby.
It was months before I really thought about it again. It was approaching the due date and I started to think of the baby that wasn’t anymore. At first it was more like research. I wanted to see how far along I’d be and what the baby would look like. Then I started looking for information on miscarriages and the causes. Turns out there’s not much. Most miscarriages have no known cause. Some pregnancies just end. I started worrying that whatever the cause, it might affect me in the future and maybe I’d never have children. I still think about that.
Most of the stuff I found on miscarriages had to do with couples trying to have a baby. Very little had anything to do with teenagers and I found nothing on the loss of an unwanted child. I guess they figure that if it’s unwanted, the only thing to feel is relief at the loss. And I did, but then I didn’t. It became a child – a child with my DNA.
I decided that I should honor my baby and not just forget. I began by choosing a name: Isobel Nixie. Isobel means consecrated to God and Nixie means spirit. In essence, I named her for her death, though I picked the name before looking up the meaning. I also decided to give her a permanent presence in the form of a tattoo. The tattoo is her initials (INW) placed on top of each other to form a square with lines in the middle. It’s located on the inside of my hip, the relative position of her entire life.
I did all kinds of internet research on pregnancy, miscarriage, child birth, child development and all sorts of related topics. It was then that I discovered that there wasn’t much for people like me. I hadn’t wanted a child. I didn’t plan the pregnancy. But I was still feeling things for this baby. I constantly thought about how old my girl would be and how my life would be different with her.
That was almost 10 years ago. I still wonder about what my daughter would be like now. I still wonder if I’ll be able to have kids, should I decide to. My biggest fear is that she was my only chance to be a parent, and I blew it by praying for her to go away. There’s nothing like thinking you killed your baby. I know I didn’t do anything physically, but I still wonder if I didn’t kill her by not loving her from the beginning.
I know my story is different from many of the others, but I feel like I need to put it out there for the other women who may end up in the same position I did. Just because it wasn’t planned and it took me longer to come to terms with it, doesn’t mean I didn’t love my baby and doesn’t mean I don’t miss her. It’s so nice to see that there is more support out there now than back then.
You can contact Rachel at raevynfyre@yahoo.com
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