Moments in change

Life as a young mom

I had arrived at the Mount Vernon Hospital about ready to go into labor, filled with much hope and concern, now I am looking out the window, couldn’t I have done this yesterday or tomorrow? I think. The nurse walks in; she had previously checked me to see how dilated I was.
“Well it looks like you are not that dilated; you might need to be sent home.” She said.
I am so thank full for her words, just the thing I wanted to hear. I had wanted to go into labor earlier that morning, but not now. I’m all ready to do this another day, putting it off is fine with me.
“Call my mom, Justin?” I ask in desperation to my baby’s dad.
Justin worked night shift and was too tired to drive me home.
“Mom, the nurse said I can go home, please pick me up. Hold on, I’m having a contraction.” I said pushing my last words out of my mouth.
A few moments goes by, I am unable to talk, I realize I am holding my breath to deal with the pain, “Just please come and pick me up now, and hurry.” I said, before having to quickly hand the phone to Justin because of my intense contractions that wouldn’t ease up.
My mom knew better than to come pick me up, even though I begged her. In my delusional thinking if she came, I didn’t have to do this today.
The nurse walks back in to tell me it’s obvious I’m going to have the baby today. And I refuse to let her poke and prod me any longer, it is incredibly irritating. She is telling the doctor I refuse to corporate; I want to wait till my contraction stops and it never does. My sister Angela shows up; the best surprise yet, she rubbed my back and Justin slept the whole time. She is talking me out of the epidural.
“You can do this Melissa.” She cheers me on.
“What do I do, what happens next, how do I breathe?” I ask the nurse
I feel like I will do this all wrong.
“Oh wow, you sound just like a little girl.” She responds.
“I was too tired to pay attention in Lamaze class.” I tell her.
I am tired because I had been going to high school all year, working really hard on my school work, along with dealing with shin splints, and emotional exhaustion from being a pregnant girl at high school, I had decided I didn’t care what people thought of me, or how they judged me. I was going to school for my babies sake, because my education is her future, and an example I want to show my child.
One day before I walked down the stairs, with my shin splints, one high school boy yelled to me. “Are you pregnant?”
I ignored him; the halls were full. I had hid it the best I could with my big coat, even in the heat.
“Are you pregnant?” he kept shouting repeatedly
I say nothing and finally made it down the stair case, with a pregnant wobble I’m sure. At least 10 kids a day would ask me 20 questions each. Such as, who is the dad, are you pregnant, what are you going to do with it?
On top of all of that, having to walk away before getting into fights, one incident girls were throwing hamburger buns at my head, but I kept my baby in mind and used every bit of will power to walk away and not ripe their heads off, like I had wanted to do. Adults would look at me with anger or ignore me, never the less two teachers smiled at me and gave me words of encouragement that I desperately needed.
I dreaded the bus rides home because the harassment was at its worst then, I couldn’t get away from them; more immaturity to deal with, due to the age range of kids. Justin, always late, but drove me to school in the mornings, so I got to escape the kids at that time.
Now I am at the hospital, feeling weird about a human being coming out of me. I felt like alien on one of those shows I had seen. Something inside of me, alive, coming out of my body, what a trip. Maybe I feel this way because I am young, only 17, not even done with high school, or because she is my first baby, or I missed the magic of it all; didn’t get the memo on how I am suppose too feel. I am so nervous.
Eight hours later, half spent on imagining I was somewhere else , my baby is about to come out into the world.
“Let us see if we can see some red hair,” the nurse says.
“She won’t have red hair,” I reply.
I wanted my baby to have dark hair, brown skin, not red hair like mine. She is everything that I wanted and more. Hispanic features just like her dad.
They try and hand her to me first.
“No,” I say as they come at me with my baby in their arms.
“I want Justin to hold her first,” I burst out.
I am thinking if her dad holds her first he will be instantly connected to her, convicted in a way to always care for her and be the backbone of her family. Deep fear stirs in my heart, as I wonder if I will be raising her alone. Her dad sits in the corner with our baby in his arms, covering his eyes so no one will notice his tears, he blames it on allergies, and finally admits when the nurses handed him our daughter, #%(% dfgdd fghhg, he was in shock.
I lay there in relief the process is over. I start to wonder some more, will she cry a lot, can I provide for her, will I be everything she needs?” And this is where real mommy life begins.
I watch her grow from a quite baby, to a very talkative toddler, and now a very opinionated preteen. I learn how to put a filter on to deal with the attitude that at times can reflect mine. I learn to slow down and listen. She is discovering her identity and all the changes that children go through, not only am I learning along the way, but she is to. I can see the successful, God loving women I hope she will become; I try and encourage that, but in no way can I control her choices, just encourage them (pray).
These years are going by fast as I watch as we mature together throughout the years. Her dad is slowly slipping away out of her life, with minimal effort on his part. So I will put a parenting plan in system and fight for more financial support (160 a month is not enough to help out with your own child), however I will always do my best to raise Natalia. I had made it through the hardest parts so far, high school a year late and through trade school for massage at the age of 21. I instill in her an importance for education, especially since I am going back to be a medical assistant. Her presence didn’t make her dad a better person, he is too weak minded to better himself, he can barely keep a job, because it is too hard for him to get up in the morning from laziness, but Natalia and I are in this together, we are strong. I try and teach her boys are road blocks till she is out of high school, so she will not make the same mistake I did and to put God first and concentrate on her education. She is such a smart, compassionate, little girl, with an attitude like mine. She will conquer the world, and not stop I believe.
“You need to support me when I’m old.” I say jokingly
“I’ll hire someone to do it.” She responds “And I’m not wiping your butt, I’ll hire someone to do that too!”
I thank God for her every day and hope that I am as much of a blessing in her life as she is in mine.