My Story Begins

Girls my age are reading Cosmo before they go to bed, I’m reading American Baby. They’re watching the girls on Teen Mom, I’m watching SuperWhy and Dinosaur Train. They listen to the newest top-charting singles, I listen to Mozart and sounds of the ocean. Girls my age are comparing the price of fake nails and lattes, I’m comparing the price between Huggies and Pampers.
Now true, my baby hasn’t entered this world yet, but with only a few short months to go, I can’t afford to live like those other girls my age. I’ve had a lot of growing up to do since I peed on that stick. And the thought of that little plus sign is still as scary as it was from day one. I won’t lie and say that I know what’s going to happen once my baby is born, but I do know I can work hard everyday to make sure she has the best life I can give her.
Where I come from, there are a lot of young moms. And even more young girls becoming pregnant. I have never personally watched Teen Mom or any of those shows, but if there could be a show named “The town with the most single young moms” it would be here. My cousin has a theory. There is nothing to do where I’m from. We have a mall, a few movie theatres, and some bowling alleys. Finding something to occupy your time is pretty difficult. Anyways, her theory is, people get so bored here they just have sex all the time. Why? Because it’s free and fun. Unfortunately not everyone realizes those few hours of fun can turn into a lifetime of heartache and money.
So why blog about the misery of being a young mom? Because it’s not complete misery. I believe a baby is an angel sent straight from heaven and I have been blessed enough to have one for myself. I want those girls my age experiencing the same problems to know there are others out there and it’s not the end of life. It’s the beginning.

I wrote that almost a year ago. Now, my little angel is 8 months old, and living with her adoptive family. Coming to this decision was no easy task. In fact it was the most difficult choice to date I have had to ever make. This process has been a long and grueling one. The thing I’ve come to realize though, is that no matter how hard a decision is, if it’s the right one, it’s hard to feel regret.
My Lil Puddin was born in January at an amazing 7lbs 4.5oz and 19.5 inches long. From the moment I looked into her eyes I knew we were meant to be together. She completed me. I no longer felt alone and I was there to protect her. She gave me reason to breath. She became my life.
The next few months were both amazing and devastating. I loved every minute with her. I no longer had a reason to feel unimportant. I had a precious vessel who depended on me for everything. I was her protection, food source, and shelter. I found myself wanting to wake up early and go to bed late just so I could spend every waking moment with her. And as fantastic as things were, there were struggles I didn’t know how to handle. The father and I had problems from the beginning. Before I found out I was pregnant we discussed it would be a good idea to use protection - we were in places in life that were not suitable to raise a child. Unfortunately it was just words and a short month later I found myself pregnant. Long story short, we continued to have problems even after Puddin was born. I had to realize the life I was providing for her was not as amazing as it should have been. She needed a stable two parent home where she could grow up in safety. Junktown was no place for her. When she was 3 ½ months old I decided I needed to put her well-being first. I found an amazing family for her and she is so happy and healthy I know it was the best choice for her.
Throughout this process I’ve received a lot of criticism and hatred. My name is now associated with demeaning context. I actually moved away from my hometown to get away from the abuse. But I would go through this whole thing a thousand more times if I knew in the end it was for the benefit of my baby. Some people call me a bad mom. I don’t care what they think. I know that she is better off. Don’t in any way think that I didn’t enjoy being a mom. Once I became a mom I realized it was what I am meant to be. No other job makes me happy. I dread going to work. But I wouldn’t mind changing a million poopy diapers a day.
I never thought I would be in this position. I truly believed the father and I could work things out and we could have a happy, picture perfect family. Unfortunately reality slapped me in the face with a different plan. I always believed I was “growing” Puddin for another family. And when reality gave me a curb check I realized that gut feeling was absolutely right. There was a family out there who wanted a child and couldn’t have one. I didn’t know how much personal strength it would take to watch someone else raise my baby.
Not every situation is the same as mine. Some birth fathers are willing to cooperate and the process runs as smooth as butter. But I’ve learned over the past few months that the trial I was given in life was to learn patience. I’ve never been the patient person. I’ve always wanted things right now, not in five minutes, not next week, now. Even when I was 9  months pregnant I wanted Puddin to come the day I wanted. Well, just like her Mama, she came when she felt like it. But even if both parents agree, it doesn’t make the emotional side any easier.
This is still an ongoing struggle, both emotionally and legally. I want birth moms to know that you’re not alone. It’s normal to have the ups and downs., the good days and tear filled nights. But I also want my voice to be heard by the adoptive parents, to know the pain us birth moms go through, the sacrifices we endure to help make things easier for you. And maybe this will reach the teenage girl debating on using birth control, or the boy who loves to party and doesn’t believe in condoms. If I can help save even just one person from the pain I feel, I will be completely satisfied.
Please note, I am not an expert, I haven’t read books, or taught lectures. I simply live this experience.