The BS Files #5

This week was my oldest son’s birthday. So, let’s talk about teen pregnancy.

I was 14 when I first started “dating” my first real boyfriend.  He was 17.  Hindsight, I had no fucking business dating a guy that much older than me ever. That’s some inappropriate shit my mother allowed.

She had always told me to come to her and talk to her when I was considering having sex and she would put me on birth control. So, I did.  She looked at me without hesitation and said, “You’re not ready.” That was the end of that conversation. (As if any naive fucking teen is going to say “okeydokey”.)

Surprise, surprise, I completely ignored her and caved to my very persistent boyfriend. I was terrified. I absolutely wasn’t ready.  I am an only child, and I was completely sheltered in a lot of ways. I had never even had anyone go up my shirt. I truly believed if a penis touched my leg, I’d get pregnant because that’s the shit I was told. My mom literally told me that semen could climb up my leg into my vagina and I believed that shit.

 I just didn’t want to lose the fucking guy as idiotic as that was. Since he laughed at the shit I believed and told me none of it was true, I trusted him now. I believed his ‘pull-out” method was legit.

My first experience was AWFUL, disappointing, and so embarrassing. His mother walked in on us and even though she was so understanding and kind, I was mortified. That’s how I would remember my “first” for all fucking eternity. 

Fast forward to a couple of months later, and BAM fucking preggo (That pull-out method was shit). This was 1988 so it was TABOO, and you were marked as a whore.

My mom didn’t know what to do. She left the decision to keep or not to keep completely up to me.  My dad on the other hand, without question, wanted me to have an abortion (they were divorced).   He flew me to Dallas, made the appointment, and took me in.  I sat in this office full of pregnant women with the most intense guilt knowing what I was about to do.

Obviously, I couldn’t go through with it. I jumped up and ran out crying. My dad was furious (understatement). Yes, I know now that he was just trying to protect me, but he screamed “If you don’t do this, you aren’t my daughter anymore.”  I said OK. We left.  He didn’t speak to me for 3 years.

I called my mom who was 5 hours away and told her I couldn’t do it. She started crying in relief and said she was already on her way to get me. It was the longest fucking ride back to Southeast TX in my life. I had no idea what my future held. I was a competitive cheerleader, gymnast, class favorite and all the things and I was about to give up my life, as I knew it,for this baby growing inside of me. 

School was a bitch. The girls in it were even more so. Some of the grown as teachers were even worse.  The whispers, the stares, and the gossip were almost unbearable. I sat at lunch alone if my boyfriend was gone and it was all hard as fuck. I held my head high at school and then went home and cried every single day. My body was changing, and I was terrified. I felt so alone. My mother was always good at financial support and providing necessities, but emotionally she fucking sucked. She was not a nurturing person. She still isn’t. My step-dad didn’t speak to me for a year.  He wouldn’t even look me in my eyes.

Even though my boyfriend wanted to support me, and truly thought he was being supportive, I was alone. Utterly and completely alone. People don’t judge the guy in this situation. They only judge the girl. As fucked up as it is, you know it’s true.

I was a whopping 120 pounds when I went into labor at 7 months. I didn’t even know I was in labor, I thought I had a stomachache. He was born 8 weeks early and had to stay in neonatal for 6 weeks.

I went back to school with the help of my mom. She would keep my son. She wanted me to continue playing sports, cheering and all the things.  My mom and I don’t really get along, but I am thankful for how good she was to my son. I guess she tried to love me in her own way. She never looked at me the same after I had Brandt, but honestly, I’m not sure she ever loved me. She damn sure loved him though.

Fast forward to today and he’s 36. He’s thriving with 2 kids of his own. We haven’t had an easy life but we have always maintained a very close relationship. We don’t go a single day without talking.

I think the main thing I want you to take from this is not to be naïve about your children and grandchildren. Whether you believe they are “ready” or not, if they are brave enough to talk to you about sex, fucking listen. It may break your heart, and it will, but fucking LISTEN. Keep an open line of communication about real life shit and never make them feel too scared to come to you.

I had to make a lot of grown-up decisions as a child, and one of those changed my life forever.

Also, please talk to your kids about bullying. It fucking sucked being on the receiving end and it made me a bitter bitch with a chip on my shoulder. I am still healing from the bitter bitch part.

 

Xoxo,

B