I remember taking the first pregnancy test. I was 15 years old. My mom went out to the store with my dad to get the test. When they came back, my dad told me “I hope you don’t fail this test.” I told myself that I could not really fail this test either way no matter how the test comes out. The next morning I took the test and it came out to be positive. My boyfriend and I decided not to tell anybody about it, except for my parents. I don’t think he was really keen on the idea quite yet. It took us about 4 weeks to tell anyone the news. Our ‘friends’ did not say the greatest things about my pregnancy, especially his friends. Only one person I knew told me, “I knew you would end up this way.” One of my boyfriend’s friends said to him, “What are you thinking? Going around getting little girls pregnant. I thought you were better than that.” Let me just make something clear, I am less than a year younger than him. I got called so many inappropriate names like w****, s***, and others. After the first couple of weeks the trash talking started to die down. Before I would cry so hard at what they were saying, but then I figured why was I wasting my time crying for what they said? The first weeks were rough, but my boyfriend and I got through it, barely.

A few months passed and there were complications. My boyfriend, Daniel, and I were fighting too much. We were not living together at the time; he lived about 45 minutes away. I would get mad at him because he would rarely call to see what was going on, he was late for most of my doctor appointments, and he would ignore me when I tried to bring up these issues. He was even late to the ultrasound. Then, to make matters worse Daniel’s family got news that if his dad didn’t go to his new job site that he would be unemployed. His dad is the only one in the family that has a job. This new job site was almost 4 hours away from me and it was over a mountain pass. His parents told him that he could stay with me if he wanted, that he didn’t have to go 4 hours away. My parents had offered for him to move in with us again. He just kept telling everybody that he would think about it. I was so sure that he was going to move in with us because in my brain I just couldn’t even think about someone abandoning their family/pregnant girlfriend to go 4 hours away. However, when the time came, I was wrong. I can’t deny that it hurt me a lot that he wanted to go 4 hours away from his growing family, but I still tried to keep him in the loop. Also, I tried my hardest never to let him know that him leaving hurt me so badly. His house 4 hours away only lasted about a month before he told me that he was missing us to much, and he asked us if he could move back in. My parents agreed and let him move back in. When he moved in, we were happy for a week or so before I started to see changes. He was so immature to me. I felt like my biggest support person was my mother, which wasn’t a bad thing, but I expected it to be Daniel.

Throughout the rest of my pregnancy I felt Daniel getting less and less supportive. However, my relationship with my mom was getting much stronger. Finally, the time came. I went into labor. I got up on a Monday and started feeling, well weird is the best way I can put it. But I went to school anyways. Daniel and I were going to the same school, at this time. I told him after math class that my stomach was hurting off and on. He then asked me if it was labor pains. I didn’t even know what labor pains felt like, so I told him I didn’t think so but I wasn’t sure. I was really close to my due date at this point; my due date was the 15th and it was Monday the 9th. A couple more hours passed and the pain was a little more intense. I told Daniel this and he said to text my mom. So I did, I asked her what I should do. I didn’t want to tell anyone that I was in labor because I didn’t want it to be false labor. My mom said she would come get Daniel and me after lunch.

When lunch came around I was hurting pretty bad, I just felt sick, like I was going to puke and a little sting every once in a while in my abdomen. My mom gave me the option of going to the hospital or going home. From what I read, the labor contractions were painful to the point of tears, and you wouldn’t be able to talk through them at the point it was time to go to the hospital. So, I decided that we should go home since they weren’t making me cry and I could still talk through them. I didn’t want to go to the hospital and have them send me home because it was just false labor. When I got home I just laid on the couch. My mom had put a contraction timer on her phone, so I told Daniel when I thought one started and when it stopped. This went on for a few hours, and the timer said they were an average of 15 minutes apart.
Around 8 o’clock p.m. Monday, Daniel, my mom, and I decided to walk. My mom said walking would help labor go a little faster. By this time, I was sure it was not false labor. The kicker was that it was raining outside, but I still wanted to walk outside. All three of us walked up and down my really long driveway in the rain for almost 4 hours. Then the contractions were getting bad; they were bringing tears to my eyes. The contractions were an average of 7 minutes apart according to the timer. I decided to go to bed. My mom said we would call my doctor in the morning just to get checked before we go to the hospital. I contracted all night long. I felt I didn’t get any sleep at all, I was up like every 5 minutes. Daniel slept the whole night, I would look over at him and get so jealous because I was so tired! I decided it was pointless to go back to sleep around 6:30 a.m. on Tuesday. My mom was getting my other siblings ready for school and I sat on the couch. By this time my contractions were so bad. I sat there and timed my contractions, when I saw they averaged about 4 minutes apart. I sent my younger sister upstairs to wake up Daniel because it was really hard to get off the couch. When my mom saw how much pain I was in and how close they were together she said we would scrap the doctor plan and go straight to the hospital. That is what we did. I was a little worried because I didn’t want to be dilated to a 3 and be sent home because I was not far enough along.

When we got to the hospital the nurse checked me out and she said with a little panic in her voice that I was already 8 centimeters dilated. She said that this would be a little quicker than everyone thought. The doctors were all shocked, and so was I. During my contractions at the hospitals I would grab on the bars on the sides of the bed I was in. I was pulling on them so hard that I thought I was going to break them off. Everyone kept trying to make me eat, but every time I put food in my mouth I would get nauseous. I finally stopped trying to eat when I took a bite of toast then had a contraction before I could swallow it. 4 hours later the nurse checked me again. She said I was all the way dilated and effaced so I could start pushing whenever I was ready.

When she left the room my mom said I should try and push. This whole time Daniel did not say one word. I pushed one time, and I said it didn’t do anything. My mom said to try again, so I did and at 12 o’clock p.m. on Tuesday my water broke. At 1:31 p.m. on Tuesday my daughter was born. When she got here it was a whirlwind. Doctors were everywhere, visitors were in and out, and there were so many questions. All I kept thinking was everyone out except for my daughter, my mom, and me. Finally, everything started to calm down.
Everything went well that night, except her stomach had to be pumped because she swallowed a lot of amniotic fluid when she came out and she was having a little trouble eating. Other than that the night went well. I kept thinking while I was pushing her out that I was exhausted. I mean I had never been that exhausted in my entire life, but when she was out it was like I couldn’t sleep. I was awake most of the night just watching her sleep.

We went home the next evening. The first night home was rough. She screamed a lot. I tried everything and she just continued screaming. I got pretty frustrated. So I brought her downstairs. My mother and Daniel both followed me down. My mother and I kept trying to calm her down the best we could. Daniel randomly asked me where I put the baby hats. Journey was still screaming, so not even thinking about why he would ask me that I told him. He went upstairs and my mom and I continued to try and calm her down. He came back with a hat, and put it on my screaming daughters head when she was in my mom’s arms. I was so mad, because I felt he wasn’t helping the situation at all and he was just making it worse. I took the hat off her head and I didn’t even look at Daniel. Next thing I know, he gets mad at me for taking the hat off her head and he said, “Wow, I’m done.” Then he walked up the stairs. He left my mom and me with a crying baby. I was so mad, I wanted to cry, but I knew I couldn’t because I had to focus on my daughter. I just couldn’t believe he gave up the first night. Things between me and him just went downhill from there. He slept till noon every day. Don’t get me wrong I loved that time alone with my daughter, but it still bugged me. He didn’t even wake up with her at night so he had no reason to be sleeping so long. When he would wake up it would always be right when I got her to sleep. So he would get mad when I would say “don’t wake her” and he would leave. It was frustrating. In a fight around this time he told me he never wanted a baby so young, and he wanted a different life for himself. He told me that all he cared about was going to Broadway. By himself if it was or with us, he didn’t care.

I got fed up with the whole thing so I told my mom everything that was going on. Through our conversations we agreed that my and Daniel’s relationship was too toxic for a baby. I knew we had to make a change. My mom and I decided it would be better if we took him back home, 4 hours away. When I told him he exploded. But, I expected him to. I mean he lived with us for a long time. I told him I just couldn’t handle it anymore. However, he just kept saying he did nothing wrong, we were kicking him out. I didn’t see it that way. I saw it as we both needed some space and it was worth a try to fix things because nothing else was working. He calmed down and asked questions like if he could still see her, how he would get money to us, and if I still wanted him to keep in contact. When I said yes to keeping in contact he said that we would also continue to work on our relationship. I thought this separation would make our communication better, but it practically ended it. He would occasionally text me asking how Journey was, only 4 times in a month’s time. He cut us out; he made a new Facebook and got a new girlfriend. When I saw the relationship status on his new Facebook I realized that he just made up that he wanted to work on our relationship. I can’t even begin to explain the hurt I felt. I was so mad, so many things ran through my head like he is not a father he is just a sperm donor, he never needs to see her again. Things like that; I wanted to be mean, to hurt him like he hurt me. But I never did.

Time went on. However, the time I got most frustrated is when he said, “I heard she was sick, is she ok?” I didn’t even want to answer him because of the words ‘I heard’. He heard she was sick from his mom because my mom told her. I never initiated contact with him, but I needed to discuss something very important with him. I texted him saying that I had something very important to say to him about our daughter. He never answered me that day. When he did answer me it wasn’t even about my text or my daughter. That was a definite eye opener. I realized I texted him right away the few times he texted me but when I texted him something important that required a response he never even answered me. Things were quiet for a while, just my baby girl and me. I liked it that way. As long as I kept myself busy, everything was fine.

Then Daniel and I had the biggest fight ever. We just screamed at each other over the phone. I have to admit it was a lot like a couple of 4 year olds. At the end of the fight when things started to calm down, we actually started to talk like adults, well kind of. I asked him about four times if he wanted to go to court over child support before he gave me an answer. He came to the conclusion that he would write a letter stating that he does not want to legal rights to his daughter. He said he was doing it to save her from him. It sounds all nice but in the almost 4 years I have known him he is just using that sweet coating but underneath it is just him being selfish. The phone call ended, when he asked if when we hung up the phone he was done with this family forever, all I said was, “yes.”

My daughter is now 2 months old. A few days after that phone call he decided not to relinquish his rights. He is going to get a job and help with her, so he says. I have moved on, I know I am never going to let him back in my life relationship wise, I just don’t want to keep him from his daughter. I do love him still, but now I feel it is a different kind of love, not romantic love. I am not going to let him hold me back from anything anymore. I am moving on with life, not waiting for him ever again. I am moving on with my life for my daughter’s sake and my own! I will never know what the future brings, but I know that whatever happens I can deal with. I will never keep her from him, but I will continue to make him say when he wants to see her and make him ask about her. Just my daughter, and I and that is how I like it.