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I started dating my hubby when I was 13 years old. It was the beginning of my freshman year in a new school. I had just moved into this small country town- the closest place to buy milk was a 45 minute drive after 8pm. I was not thrilled. The school system was regional. This means it consisted of several towns.
A couple of weeks into school I was on my way to my biology class and the door was right past his locker. I hadn’t noticed him before but he and all his friends were all hanging out in the hall. When I walked by him he slapped my rear end with his books and made quite the perverted comment to me and asked me to meet him in the hall in 20 minutes.
I rolled my eyes annoyed with him and went to class.
Little did I know in I was going to be asked to drop something off in the office.
20 minutes later. In that hallway.
He was there.
He joked it was intentional, I ignored him.
For the next couple of weeks he declared his interest in me. We talked regularly on the phone. Even though he was older then me neither of us had our license in the beginning. Within 6 months are relationship was strong.
We dated on and off like regular teens for the rest of high school. It is funny when you look back in life and remember how you could break up and make up 3 times in a month when you’re 16. He was my first and only love.
When I was 18 I found out I was pregnant. I remember the exact moment I found out. I was late and hadn’t really thought anything about it because I was on the pill. I had finally gotten the guts to walk into the drug store and purchase a pregnancy test. I bought a 2 pack for just in case I did it wrong. When I got home my BFF Sara was at my house. She was going to my Dad’s with me for dinner. We read the directions. She insisted that I take one right away but didn’t see the point since it said to wait until the morning for best results.
I did it anyways.
It was 4 pm.
I was positive.
I freaked.
But there was no time. I had to be at my dad’s in 20 minutes. We left.
I realized half way there that I had brought the test with me. We hardly spoke. Then we tried to think of a plan for why I was red eyed and blotchy and why I was so anxious. I hadn’t really had the full time to absorb it before we got there and knew I could lose it any time. It was critical not to let my father know I was pregnant. My father is a recovered alcoholic but at that time he wasn’t. It wouldn’t be pretty if he learned about it.
After dinner my now step mother pulled me outside and asked me what the hell my problem was and told me to start talking. I lost it all over again and told her. She agreed not to tell my father. They were leaving for a 2 week vacation to FL in a week and didn’t want it ruined. We decided when they got back she’d help me. When we got out of the garage my dad had popped my hood and was checking my oil. I was horrible at changing my oil and it always bothered him. I was nervous though of him giving my car the one over. My pregnancy test was sitting in the car. Not hidden. Luckily, he never saw it but I remember being so nervous he would!
The next morning I took another test to be sure. Positive. Go to school. Way home bought a three pack. Over the next 24 hours I peed on all three. Positive. Positive. Positive. Call OB. Positive is positive. Demand blood test. Positive. Damn.
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When my Dad got back I talked her into telling him.
My mom was a hard one. I wasn’t as much worried about upsetting her as I was disappointing her. I didn’t want to tell her the one thing she had tried so hard to prevent for me. See, my mother was 16 and a junior in high school when she had me. She had always made it clear I had options and that being a teen mom wasn’t one of them. I was a coward and left my prenatal pills out until she found them and confronted me. Oddly enough she didn’t scream at me once. She actually confronted me one evening as I was about to go out with friends. She asked me straight out when my Friday wardrobe changed from mini’s and halter’s to baggy jeans and a pull over. I knew she knew. She knew I knew.
She made it clear that she raised her child and that under no circumstances was she raising mine. Yet, she was also supportive.
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Next week I’ll tell you more about my labor and delivery 🙂
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