We're in an Awful Mess, and I Don't Mean Maybe...

Since you chose 'shotgun' on my highway of life, I might as well start with the single most life affecting decision I have ever made...

I turn the radio on and although this song came out two years before it would mean anything to me when I hear it play memories come tumbling back.

Papa Don't Preach by Madonna: the anthem to teenage pregnancy.  I first heard this song when I was fourteen years old and I wondered how girls could get themselves into this kind of mess.  Who knew that by sixteen I would be having this same discussion with my parents.  Like the main character, by the time I had worked up my nerve to tell my family about my pregnancy I had already decided, "I was keeping my baby."

The year was 1988 and I was still in tenth grade when the nurse at my doctor's office said, "Oh, by the way, the results were positive."  She meant the pregnancy test results.  Not the news I wanted to hear.  You see I wasn't just a good kid on the right track, I had been on the fast track.  I didn't get into trouble and I was making the honor roll while taking honor level courses.

Now suddenly everything was going to change.  I never thought this could happen to me; but I was young and in love.  I was also very, very naive.  I honestly believed you could be anything you wanted to be; could do anything you wanted to do so long as you put your mind to it.

In some ways I still believe that is true.  Back then I just didn't understand baggage; as in family history and the strong beliefs others were raised with.  I didn't understand how everyone didn't think the same way I did.

I also couldn't understand the impact of raising a child.  How could I?  I had BEEN the child.  How could I have comprehended the commitment it would take to raise a baby to adulthood when I was only a teenager myself?

"He says that he's going to marry me.  We can raise a little family.  Maybe we'll be alright; it's a sacrifice."  That was a line from the song.  My parents wouldn't let me get married.  Color me shocked that they knew better than I did.  Although my seventeen year old boyfriend was as supportive as he could manage, he didn't last much past my son's first birthday.

My son... I gave birth to a 9 pound 4 ounce healthy baby boy.  He could have been so much better off being raised by grown ups; but I was too selfish.  The worst possible predicament for my sixteen year old self gives me one of my greatest joys today.

The best decision would have to never have gotten in the situation in the first place.  Once I was pregnant though... all bets were off.  My parents allowed me to make the desicion and gave me the support to keep my baby.

Now, twenty three years later, I can tell you I made the right choice.