Becoming a Mom at 19

My first Mother's Day.

Holding my daughter for the first time was one of the most surreal moments of my life. Not even old enough to have an alcoholic beverage, but I was someone’s mom. I remember smiling for a really long time and having the feeling like I had known her for a really long time, yet we had just met. I was so happy at that moment.

I had moved back home 3 months after I left. I was honestly so happy to be back where I knew my surroundings, and I had the support of my family around me. My boyfriend, my daughter’s father, had stayed in Arizona, where we were when I got pregnant. It was a bit more complicated for him to move back, so he stayed.

I had family around, yes, but they had lives to live too. I went to all my appointments alone. I didn’t even realize the significance of that at the time. I never felt the feeling of bravery, never felt the feeling of pride; it was just one foot in front of the other every day. I never dwelled for too long on any emotions and I think that was a protective mechanism from my brain. I worked and slept. I didn’t do much else, and that was also probably a protective mechanism as well. If I didn’t see anyone, then I didn’t have to explain.

My sweet angel was five days late, and I cried every single day she didn’t come. My boyfriend had come back from Arizona, but only had a week here, and I remember a lot of those tears were because I felt the pressure to get her out before he left, but I really had no control over it. I wanted to go into labor naturally; it was important to me, but that decision was also causing a lot of pressure in the situation.

Just a few hours after having her.

I went into labor on a Thursday night. I was feeling “off” so I asked my cousin who lived nearby if she would walk with me. She, of course, said yes, and I walked for 2 hours with nothing really happening.

So, I went home and went to bed.

I woke up early that morning with contractions. I knew it was go time. I labored at home for a few hours, and they felt pretty strong (I think about this now and laugh because 1. I had no idea what was coming, and 2. I never had a baby before, what did I have to compare it to), so I asked to be taken to the hospital. Once there, I was checked, and I had convinced myself I was probably dilated enough to stay because the contractions were intense. 3 centimeters, my doctor told me….I was crushed. She told me to go back home and labor some more, and if things intensify, to come back. I already thought they were intense, but again, what did I know?

I went back home and labored there all day. Even though I was upset about having to go back home, looking back, I’m so glad I was able to do most of the laboring in my space. I went back to the hospital around 11:30 that night and was dilated enough to be admitted.

I had a FULL team with me, bless the Lord, they allowed all these people to be with me, I needed them all! My mom of course, was there, my sister, my cousin and my boyfriend. And just outside the delivery room door was my boyfriend’s mom and Aunt. It was a full house, but I was okay with it.

She was born at 3:48, about 4 hours after we arrived, and I was in heaven. I had no idea the entire pregnancy whether she was a boy or a girl. She was never in a good position to tell when I had an ultrasound, so the moment she arrived was the moment we all found out she was a girl. I was convinced she was a boy until a week before I delivered her. Something just washed over me that she was a girl.

It felt very natural to me immediately to be her mom and take care of her. I never had any moments of panic over what was next. She was here, I was her mother, and I was going to take care of her, and that was that.

I would just watch her sleep a lot 🙂

The nights were hard. She was up every two hours to eat, and I was alone every night to do that. I did live with my mother, but she was so good and so respectful and never just jumped right in and took the mothering away from me. I am so grateful to her for doing that. I needed that from her because it gave me the confidence to know that I could be her mom.

But yes, the nights were hard. I was tired, as any mother is waking up several times a night, but it was in those quiet moments when she was nursing in the middle of the night that I would just look down at her and know that it was all worth it. Anything that I was going to face was worth having her here with me.

Looking back, those early days feel like the real start of me growing up. I thought I was already an adult, but the truth is, I was just beginning to learn what it meant to love someone more than myself, to sacrifice sleep and comfort, and to show up day after day, even when I was exhausted. In many ways, my daughter and I were growing up together—me learning how to be a mother while she learned everything else about the world. And that was only the beginning of the story we would write together.