Essay No. 1 -- A Turning Point

On July 1, 2009, I moved out of my parent’s house. I was a nineteen year old college student; I had a car and two steady jobs. I rented a room from a woman that I found on Craig’s List. I had pictured moving out to be an amazing growing experience, and in a way, it was. I tried to work hard. I had fun with my friends, and met a lot of new people. My life seemed to be heading in the right direction.  By the end of October 2009, I had quit one of my jobs, and I had lost the other. I struggled to keep my head above water for a little while, but it was soon evident that I was drowning. I was devastated and humiliated that I had to crawl back to my parent’s house and essentially start over. My parents made it an easy transition, though, and on November 1st, I moved back in.

On November 10, 2009, I found out I was 6 weeks pregnant. I can’t say that my pregnancy was an accident, but I was somewhat surprised. At this point, I was faced with a life-changing decision. As I stood in the bathroom, dozens of thoughts swirled around in my head. No one knew about the baby. I could easily terminate the pregnancy and my parents would never have to know. I could ask one of my friends to support me, and they would, without hesitation. The moment I saw the test read yes, however, I couldn’t stop smiling. I couldn’t believe that I was carrying inside me a little perfect baby! The odds were against me. I had no money to my name.  There was a big chance that I was going to end up a single mother, seeing as my child’s father was apathetic about the news, to say the least. It was also likely that my parents would be so upset with me that they would tell me to leave their home just as soon as I had returned. But to me, none of those possibilities mattered.  At that moment, I knew that I would never let anyone or anything come in between the two of us.

            My pregnancy was physically non-complicated, but emotionally draining. My parents did not send me out into the street. Instead, they almost immediately accepted what was inevitably going to happen and like me, believed that abortion was a not an option. However, they did not approve of the situation that I found myself in. Basically, my parents checked out from any emotional relationship they had with me whatsoever. Our relationships consisted of everyday niceties, but nothing more. It was a hard time for me because I still longed for a relationship with my child’s father, even though a healthy one never formed. I spent most of my time alone, but productively. I read as much as I could about pregnancy, childbirth, and parenting. I watched programs on TV. I looked up articles on the internet, and I asked peers that were in similar situations as me. I gained a lot of knowledge in a short amount of time. I attended childbirth preparedness classes and spent time reading to my baby. Although I was alone, I rarely felt lonely.

One day in early June, I had a little scare. I had begun reading about labor and I believed I was in the early stages. The first thing I did was to call my doctor who informed me to head straight to the Emergency Room in order to check on my status and make sure the baby was alright. After I hung up the phone, I immediately dialed my child’s father’s phone. After hearing the news he said that he would stand by the phone to get further directions from me, whether or not to head to the hospital as well. After I arrived at the hospital and they did further tests including an ultrasound, the nurse concluded that I was not in labor and I should head home. I tried to contact my child’s father to alert him of the news, but I could not reach him. I didn’t speak to him for another month.

On July 5^th 2010 at 2:00 AM, I was in my bed reading a baby development book, when I began to notice that the contractions I was having – which I believed to be Braxton Hick’s – were coming more often and with more strength. At around 3:00 AM, I went into my mother’s room to inform her and she stayed up with me, counting the time in between contractions and reminding me to breathe. When my contractions started to become too intense, we decided to head to the hospital. We made it to the hospital at around 5:30 AM and the nurse informed me that I was 4cm dilated, and I opted to receive an epidural. My labor slowed down quite a bit as a result, and I spent most of the day sleeping. At around 3 or 4 in the afternoon, the doctor decided to break my bag of waters. Soon after, I was instructed to begin pushing. I pushed for about an hour and a half, until the doctor informed me that it would be safer for me and the baby to be delivered through a C-Section. Although unhappy about the news, I did have a C-Section, and it was a good thing I did.

My daughter, Laila, was born on July 5^th, 2010 at 10:08 pm. She was born with pneumonia, many respiratory complications, and at 8lbs, 7oz. Because of my bag of waters being broken, it created an infection which my daughter had inhaled while she was still in my stomach. If I had delivered her naturally, she would have sustained many more complications. Laila stayed in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for ten days while she received antibiotic treatment. Her father came to visit her three days later, and he came a few times while she was in the NICU. I finally was allowed to bring her home on July 15^th, and we haven’t looked back.

My daughter is now 18 months old and despite a few minor respiratory issues, she is doing great. I am a single mother who works 3 part-time jobs and goes to school full-time. Moving out of my parent’s house was a life-changing experience for me. I grew up quickly in a short period of time. I learned many lessons, some easy, some hard. I wouldn’t change the experiences I had or the time I spent learning these lessons because they made me the independent, hard-working person I am today.