A day of birth... party

Walking while in labor is supposed to speed the process. I read that somewhere. I'd also read using a breast pump will stimulate contractions naturally. I did a lot of both but my labor just didn't want to start. I was blessed to have my high school friends more then willing to come over and entertain me while we waited. We walked up and down the street, pausing now and then while I waited for a slightly more then a menstrual cramp type pain to pass and then start walking again. Wondering if people were looking concerned or thinking I was just crazy.

At some point the hospital called and said I should probably go back. They were right, had I'd known the risk of infection, I never would have left to begin with. Hindsight is 20/20.

Anyway, my labor was awful. I had both sets of parents and a multitude of  friends in and out to keep me occupied. Which was good because hard labor wouldn't come for a very long, long, time.

From the time my water broke to the time I actually gave birth, was almost 3 days. I was pumped full of I.V. fluids, the nurse had missed my vein and my entire arm puffed up to double its size, it would later turn to a mass of bruises.

I was beat up and worn out. I finally took the Pitocin. We waited and waited, my contractions peaked and my pain was a sudden a red hot rush of suffering I'd never known. Still refusing the pain medication I trudged on. I don't know what I was trying to prove, if anything at all. My concern for my babies health was misguided. I refused the medication for her safety but stressed her by stressing myself. Again, an innocent mistake made by someone too young and uneducated to know better.

The doctor was exhausted, my mother was exhausted, my best friend was too.I was weak and worn out. My body was fighting a losing battle, when i finally reach 9 centimeters..I began to close up again. The doctor looked at me and my mother and said "Enough, is enough..can we do the C-section?".

Hesitant, but too weary to protest, I gave in.

They stuck a needle in my back and the sweet relief came. I could smile even. The pain stopped. I was wheeled to the operating room, only two people could come in and they had to be older than 18. So my best friend could not. My mom was coming and I asked my dad but he thought of his wife, who'd never given birth herself. So my mother and my step mother were the first to see my baby enter the world.

It was shockingly bright in there. I wanted to watch but they wouldn't let me, afraid I might pass out from shock. I was drowsy but excited. It felt like they were crunching potato chips on my stomach. Everything smelt like disinfectant. I heard my mother "ooh" and the doctor say " It's a .." which I finished with boy because I was so certain, I'd bought all boy clothes.. "girl!"..

A GIRL!

Curious things start happening

I was in my night gown. The sun was just beginning to peak through my curtains. I opened my eyes feeling relaxed and light. I put my bare feet on the hardwood floor. As always my mop headed dog, my loyal companion, Cinnamon hopped off the bed with me and wagged. That's when I felt it, the balmy wetness begin to trickle down my leg. Was I peeing? No, I knew better. I'd lost my plug a few days before. I felt like a small dam had burst open from inside me and a small puddle was forming around my naked feet. I grabbed a blanket between my legs and tried to walk with my full term..(two weeks over due) self up the stairs wake my mom and step dad and little brother Cody to let them know " it was time".

I called the doctor's office and was pleased to find out my favorite Ob/GYN in the group was on call. Shortly after, my mom and I left for the hospital where I was hooked up and monitored for contractions, they were so mild I hardly felt them. I was uncomfortable but not much. I was still losing massive amount of water, I wouldn't have water gush in such an amount in my future pregnancies. I was hardly dilated either. They offered to give me pitocin, I refused. They sent me home, yes, with my water broken. I would spend a good amount of time there before returning.

Parent aids or Guiding lights

Be an angel to someone else whenever you can, as a way of thanking God for the help your angel has given you. ~Quoted in The Angels' Little Instruction Book by Eileen Elias Freeman, 1994

God blessed has me with incredible strong women throughout my life to mentor and guide me. The parents aids I was assigned were no exception. These women didn't judge me, they didn't pressure me but guided me. Like many pieces to a puzzle that build a good parent, these women filled in places in my journey that had yet to be filled and they would stay a  consistent part of my life for many years. First as teachers but later as co-workers and friends.

These were persons assigned me, my "case". I was apprehensive about what that meant. Meeting them, I did my best to prove who I was and who I intended to be regardless of what might be written in my file.The idea of  more adult professionals sent to monitor the developments of myself and the baby who would arrive shortly, was disquieting.

Yet, they embraced me. They embraced me so tightly I had a confidence in myself I hadn't found before. They believe in me, and made me feel that I was special, right from the start. Made me feel a stand out from the many mothers they encountered day after day, mothers of all ages. Their unquestioning faith in me, gave me a boost to persevere over my first mommyhood fears and do what needed to be done in the best ways I could.
These women may not ever realize that they do the work of angels, but they do. They set a standard for me then and led me toward a path I will continue to walk throughout my life time.

A fifteen year old with a birth plan?

I'd written my birth plan over and over. I'd spent the entire pregnancy not taking a single Tylenol, forcing my prenatal down no matter how often it made me vomit. Never allowing anyone to smoke near me, and doing everything I thought was healthiest for the little one inside of me.

Having this little baby was my homework, my project and her birth would be my final exam. I took it as serious as any other student would their S.A.Ts. I'd only had the one ultra sound in the beginning of my pregnancy because I worried about the effects of the sonogram and didn't want anything unneeded.

In my last month I began Lamaze at the hospital. Once a week I'd ride the elevator to the maternity ward and sit one on one with my instructor. She explained to me the birth process. Most of which I'd learned from books and talking to other moms. Then we'd practice breathing. They didn't put me in a class with the other moms. Maybe they thought I would be uncomfortable or maybe they thought the other moms would be unkind to me. I don't know the reasons. I just knew I was there in the room formulating a plan.

I decided to write the birth plan on my own. It wasn't the instructors idea, in fact she looked at me like I'd lost my marbles when I proposed it. I'd read about the idea and liked it.

I brought it to my doctor. She scanned it and nodded. I don't think I was taken any too serious, but maybe I should have been. Maybe if she explained to me more about what I was headed for, we could have tweaked it a bit. All I knew for certain was that I wanted no drugs, I wanted natural..no matter what. No drugs for me or my baby, no c-section and I wanted to breast feed.

Reality strikes.

In the final weeks before my due date, I was made to stay home with a tutor. She's been a substitute teacher at my school. She was encouraging. I worked hard. I was determined to do my best. I was bored and lonely though. I was beginning to feel the rift my pregnancy was spreading between myself and other kids my age. Not that my true friends weren't there for me because they were, but I was beginning to feel the slightest twinges of being left out.

Not because anyone wanted me to be, or because they didn't find ways to spend time with me but because physically I had to be. I certainly couldn't have endured going to an amusement park or a concert even. No ones world stopped because I couldn't go and I wouldn't have wanted it to but those were the first indications that I was going to miss out on somethings I otherwise would have enjoyed. I would be making memories of another kind than my friends would be.

It was hot...I was due in June. I was huge. I'd gained a ton, at least forty pounds and constantly craved water. I need water all the time. I remember the last few weeks as just being hugely uncomfortable and hot. My baby was an overly active baby. I wouldn't realize that until later pregnancies because I assumed it was normal. She moved all the time. If I dropped silverware into the sink, she would startle and kick around.

One night I just couldn't sleep. Maybe because I was constantly sweaty, or because she'd been moving non-stop, or that I felt like an alien in my own body. My body was this lumpy mass that didn't feel like mine anymore. My milk started leaking in my fifth month. Everything about my body was alien to me. I got up. I didn't want to read. My mind was just going, thinking. My legs ached, were swollen. I rocked in the rocking chair, it was the middle a sticky, muggy night. Normally I listened to music. I listened to a lot of music. I played music into my stomach whenever I thought to. I was too dreary but my head was racing.

I realized how terrified I was. In a matter of weeks, days even..I would be a mother. It hit me that I had no idea what I was going to do, or how I could handle it. I was fifteen, still a kid myself. I did what kids do. I woke up my mom. She wasn't mad, she reassured me this was normal. It would be okay. We would make it work. Reality had hit and when I woke up in the morning I knew I needed a plan.

My body is a science lesson for the class?

Maternity clothes are not cute. There came a time when I gave up trying to fit in with my classmates. It was depressing. I was huge and nothing fit. I had a huge belly button that poked out through any shirt I put on.

My classmates were pretty good to me. No one made fun of my waddle. Most days whoever sat next to me in my class kept their hand on my belly while my baby kicked like she was in a crazy kick boxing match.

They had a lot of questions, I know most conversations were about the baby coming. I didn't talk much about teenage things anymore. The boys were always nice, I had a few ask if they could pretend to be the baby's dad. Most people made me feel good about being pregnant.

The birth of a worker bee

I was fortunate enough to have a multitude of baby sitting jobs, good pay ones. Everyone who knows me, knows and knew then, that children and babies are my favorite part of life. I went to school and held a few babysitting jobs.

When I was half way done with my pregnancy I was lucky enough to be sent into a work program through my school. A few days a week I worked at the Board of Education in Torrington, CT. Doing what I do best, (other than caring for little people)..typing.

I earned a decent amount for a teenager between the two and quickly learned how to put things on layaway. My stroller and car seat were the first big items I bought for my baby all on my own. Of course I had a baby shower and my family and friends were very generous in spoiling my baby and myself. Still its the remembrance of the things I worked so hard to buy on my own I was most proud of.

I looked for lists in parenting magazines and books of items expecting moms should have ready. I made a list and one by one checked them off.  Because of work programs and parents willing to trust me and give me a hand up, when my due date came, my baby would lack for nothing.

I gained job skills early in life and for that I will always be grateful. I know because of the programs open to me, I was able to get my life on track quickly and had a better chance than most to beat the odds handed to young parents across America.

This is why it also saddens me that so many programs have been cut.

Craving pickles

The mind of a teenager is a funny place to be. With the same oppositional attitude I'd previously used to rebel about everything around me..I turned around and used as a positive. I used that same stubborn streak to prove everyone that not only could I raise my baby but do it right.

My first steps were the obvious, sleep and food. I did a ton of sleeping. Which was why my mother wasn't surprised when i told her I was pregnant, she'd guessed. I'd never been a sleeper. Suddenly i couldn't get enough.

I ate and ate, determined not to have an underweight baby like the doctor predicted. I was about 90 lbs when I conceived. The doctor was so certain at my one and only ultra sound that i wouldn't be keeping the baby, he never printed a picture out. When I ask him for one, he more or less told me that he didn't think I would want one. I never had another ultrasound.

I am grateful I lived at home with my mom, who is a fabulously healthy vegetarian cook. Looking back on my first grocery trip, I remember buying everything diet. What does a fifteen year old truly know about nutrition? I thought diet equaled healthy. A fact I am embarrassed of now, but I was too young to know any better.

My friends were great and kept me stocked in snacks from what I call a gas station diet. I also had a major pickle craving. Which I now cant recall if it started because I thought pregnant woman should eat pickles or not?? But I know it turned into a major craving. My daughter is now a total pickle addict herself and I always wonder if there is a link there? Somewhere toward the end of my pregnancy I ate a jar of pickles that just didn't taste right, that was enough to kick the habit.

I had morning sickness that was more throughout every minute of the day sickness. I'd so to school, eat an egg sandwich and orange juice and run to the bathroom. There is nothing attractive about morning sickness, especially when your a teenage girl still hoping to be attractive to teenage boys.

Needless to say I still gained a healthy forty pounds. What did you crave during your pregnancies? Did your children have a liking for those foods later in life?

Alcohol and pregnancy..not for me

It would be months before I entered the home for teenagers mothers located in West Hartford, CT. I spent that time working on myself.

 I turned fifteen within weeks of finding out I was pregnant. I wasn't only facing motherhood, I was also facing the common dilemmas of being a teenager. I had to make good choices on a consistent basis. Temptations were everywhere along with the usual high school peer pressure. I continued to date. I went to dances, I spent nights at my friends' houses. I was there, I was in it all and yet somehow I wasn't. My heart and mind were always with the baby growing inside me.

Like all teenagers I was offered cigarettes, alcohol, and drugs..but unlike most teens, I had a "valid" reason to say no.. I was pregnant, at least valid in eyes of my peers. Of course, I could have made a decision to say yes like so many others.

 I remember sitting on the floor at a house party. I was fairly big in my pregnancy. The couple who provided the alcohol had to be in their thirties. The woman was insistent it was perfectly safe to drink just wine coolers! "For goodness sakes she drank with all her pregnancies and all her child were fine!" ( mind you she didn't have custody of any of them)..and I remember having to stop, decide if I should listen to this adult almost giving me an order to drink or step back and stick to what I felt in my heart was right for my baby. I knew better. I'd read enough, plus I'd become somewhat religious at that point. Deciding my baby was most certainly going to be a little boy, I'd name him something biblical, Gabriel Jacob. I knew God would frown on drinking. I went home.

That was a cross road. It was a test, and looking back I passed.
What are your views on drinking while pregnant?

Being a good mom at any age is a concious choice.

Being a good mom at any age is a conscious choice. Don't let anyone fool you into believing that it comes natural at any age. I had the world against me and had major choices to make, choices that would last a life time, maybe two.

As I mentioned in my earlier blog, I was 14, pregnant, going to an alternative middle school (because I'd been thrown out of the main stream school system), I was a chronic runaway, and I was on probation, minutes away from being sent to jail for fighting. I was always fighting with other girls, other people, and running away for no reason other then I wanted to do what I wanted to do. At the time my biggest goals were getting pregnant and running with a gang. Yes I was an aspiring gang member. A fourteen year old white girl from small town U.S.A, as I made mention I was the frame work of which talk shows would one day be made of.

When the talk my baby being taken from me turned serious, so did I. I knew a few teen moms raising their children, I also knew a few teen moms whose children had been removed. My step sister at the time, had been in jail, and had a baby at 16. She also lost custody of my "nephew" during the time I was pregnant. She went to jail again, this time adult jail. That was tragic enough for me to start to make changes.

I bought every parenting book from every second hand shop I could get my hands on. I read and I read. I wanted everyone to see I was taking this baby business seriously. I ditched the wild crowd I'd been running with for the normal teenage future success story crowd I'd been on the outskirts of for sometime. I brought my grades up and then I made my proposition.

Sitting facing my mother and my probation officer, listening to more ideas of adoption and Department of Children and Families involvement, I said it.. I said what I'd been keeping in for months into my pregnancy. What if I moved into a home for unwed mothers. Even then it seemed like dinosaur of an idea. Some throw back from the 1950's but I was shocked when my p.o. stopped what she was saying..looked me in the eye with surprise and told me that was a good idea, she would look into it. That became the plan.

What I expected while I was expecting..meant nothing compared to what people expected from me

I remember the long walk me and my high school girlfriend took to Parenthood the day I found out I was pregnant. It wasn't my first trip there, when I was 12, my best friend and I went in to find out information on birth control. She was 11 and sexually active. I was thirteen before I made that leap. Losing my virginity was again a conscious choice for me. I wasn't in a "relationship"..(I throw up a little at calling anything between two tweens a relationship) but hooked up with a boy from school who was both popular and cute, all the requirements a 13 year old girl might consider, were met. He called me and offered. I simply said yes and we met a while later. Like I said, I was the original teen girl gone wild and that was just another milestone I hoped to reach.

Anyway, back to Planned Parenthood. Although I intentionally got pregnant, I was stunned when it actually happened. Again, the father of my baby wasn't someone I was in a relationship with although I believed at the time I was madly and helplessly in love with him. He wasn't my boyfriend.

I don't think the nurse at Planned Parenthood was ready for my uproar of hysterics. I probably scared every woman in the place with my wailing. I cried until there wasn't a tear in me. Then I called my mother. As you can imagine she was not please. I don't remember exactly what was said. I remember the walk back to town with my girlfriend. Within that half hour I went from hysterical to excited. We proudly told everyone we bumped into, which was a number of other kids from school.

As typical with many of today's teen dads, the father of my baby instantly denied paternity. He also managed to call me every not nice word I'd ever heard and some I hadn't. He wouldn't tell his family. I later would, in my fifth month when he started seeing my step sister. There would also be a paternity test. Yet another trend that was just in its begining stages.

People's reactions were mixed. A lot of people didn't believe me until it became undeniable. Nothing changed much within my circle of friends just then, that would come later.

I was shocked when I told my favorite teacher at school and she weld up with tears. I couldn't imagine why her reaction would be tearful. This was a baby! I was thrilled! Fourteen years old and ecstatic!

The first confessions of a former teen mom

 I was fourteen year old when I decided to get pregnant and yes I did it on purpose. I was the original Maury "teen gone wild" poster child, before his show ever covered a single mouthy pre-teen girl. Watching the media explode with stories about teen motherhood in the 2012 has been more than amusing.

 For one thing, I gave birth at fifteen to my daughter in 1995. This was long before reality TV, and talk shows were still a fairly new trend.  Had a camera followed me around in those early days of motherhood, viewers may have been bored.

Watching the current shows circulating MTV regarding teen motherhood are much more entertaining then the realities. Although I could be wrong, maybe my life would have made the tabloids at one point but if anything, I seemed to have taken the road least traveled because I had no one on screen setting a standard of how a young mother should act.

As I made mention early on, I was more then wild in my preteen years but the sudden on-set of motherhood mellowed me rapidly. I was in the juvenile justice system at the time I conceived. On probation for a girl-on-girl fight at the railroad tracks behind my middle school. The cold harsh reality set in when talk instantly started between my parents and my probation officer of my unborn child being taken from me when she made entrance into the world. A possible reality I couldn't handle. A terrible threat that rocked my world.

This began the change in me. This is when true mommy mode stepped up and it took its first fragile steps.