I remember this day like it was yesterday.
I was fifteen years old and all my friends were older than me. It was the school year that everyone started driving. We got the taste of freedom that we ached for. Our existence was consumed by bad rap music, fast food drive thru food, and jumping from one friend’s house to the next.
We didn’t know much about life. There was not one of us that had any responsibility beyond making sure our clothes hit the hamper and not the floor on our way out. Our parents paid for all of our needs and wants. Some of us even saved our lunch money every week just to supply our, not so great, weekend habits.
All in all, we were kids. The things we should have avoided were all of the things we let consume us. I thought I was invincible. I didn’t know anything less.
There was one day in particular that changed that. It was actually the day after Valentine’s Day in February of 2010. I called a close friend to come get me because I needed to go to Walmart to buy something. It was the day after Valentine’s so we told our parents that we were going to raid the half off candy isle and take her little sister to the park. It seemed pretty legit.
My memories of this day get foggy sometimes. So, I will skip to the part I remember the most.
Perhaps we went down the candy isle, I’m not sure. I do remember going down the awkward isle of feminine hygiene, condoms, and those little sticks they put on the top shelf. In that moment, I just wanted to run and let me assure you that I don’t run.
But here were staring at the top shelf. There were too many choices. Most of them read,”99.9 % accurate five days before your missed period” as if I kept a pocket calendar in my purse to count the days. We picked one, bought it, and got out of the store as fast as possible. We went to another friend’s house to take it. We were still somewhat giggly because we knew it was just slight paranoia at this point.
I remember reading the box and it telling you to wait so many minutes before reading it. So we sat it on the counter and waited. It was not even close to a whole minute before those two little lines popped up.
I was in shock and both of my friends were looking at me like, “oh shit.”
I don’t remember the ride home. However. I remember everything after that.
This is where I skip the “telling my parents part.” That has never been my part of the story to tell. Things were said that can never be taken back but as a mother now, I can understand the shock and disappointment in that moment.
My pregnancy was hard on me.
I was terrified and in the middle of everything, I felt so alone. My life was supposed to be prom dresses and homecoming games. Instead, I was growing a little human that I was not even sure I could emotionally be there for.
Up until the day I had him, I was in such denial. I remember seeing him for the first time. I was laying on the operating table. My doctor was giving me a play by play as she got ready to deliver him. I remember her saying,”Sarah, when I tell you to, look up” and before she could even finish I heard my baby for the first time. My doctor lifted his little body over the surgical drape and I felt confused.
I thought,”oh wow, a baby.”
I mean I know you’re probably wondering what exactly I envisioned growing inside my stomach for 39 weeks but I just couldn’t relate the two. I was so young and in such denial.
He was perfect though. He was 9 pounds and 10 ounces and he measured 21 1/2 inches long. They had to search the hospital for size one diapers because the newborn diaper didn’t fit.
My family and friends were very supportive.
That made all the difference in the world. I wish I could tell you that I enjoyed his first year of life but that wouldn’t be the full truth because Postpartum Depression can be quite a thief. But that’s a story for another day.