I'm Going to Be A Mom ... At 17?! (A Teen Pregnancy Story)

Chapter 4 - A Little Bigger and A Little Rounder

I'm Going to Be A Mom ... At 17?! (A Teen Pregnancy Story)

Chapter 4 - A little bigger and a little rounder

I was in the bathtub, soaking in the hot water and lavender bath salt. I gazed at my tummy, stroking it, thinking over this whole thing. I was six and a half weeks in, and my belly was definitely bigger. And what was inside it? A baby. A real baby. A life.

I thought about what many teens did when they got pregnant; they got abortions. I actually shivered, despite the warmth of the water. I didn't know how people could get abortions - that was just horrible. I mean, imagine killing your own child! Sure, people got them because they couldn't handle a baby at that moment or had other personal problems, but it was a selfish act - sacrificing a life (and not just any life - your child's!) for your own benifit. I put my warm hand on my tummy, hoping to feel the little baby inside. A boy or a girl? What did I want? I thought for awhile. It didn't matter to me, so long as my baby was healthy and very much alive.

And what about the possibility of twins? I closed my eyes. Now THAT would just be too much for me. Life was going to be hectic enough with one, so I definitely did not need two. If I did, though, I'd still love my two little monsters more than anything in the world.

Gosh. I was becoming more of a mother by the minute.

Was I fit to be a mother? I mean, my mum had died when I was very young, and I had been raised by my dad. So did I have the right to be a mother? I was worried. But I remembered something Dad told me. 

"Parenting is the hardest job in the world, Jenna," he'd said. "But you really only learn how to be a parent once you are a parent."

At first, I had been totally confused, and just nodded like I did understand. But now I knew what he meant. You acquired the skills as you went along. No one could teach you how to be a parent; it's something you learned on your own.

So basically I was on my own. Sure, I'd get my support from friends and family, but as for raising my child, I was on my own.

This was the cue for someone to say, "Hey, that's not true. You're not completely on your own. What about the baby's father?"

Well, what about him? I hadn't heard from him in weeks. I was hanging on by a thread, hoping he'd come and talk to me, but with every missed call and text message, I was slowly dying.

Tears sprung to my eyes. I loved my baby's daddy. We'd been dating for so long; he told me he loved me every night before I went to sleep. And it wouldn't be a text - it would be a call. Every night. Until the night I'd told him. Then he stopped.

And every night since, I missed it desperately. Tears sprung to my eyes but I refused to let them spill over. Unfortunately they didn't listen to me.

I head my phone vibrate on the small table next to me. My eyes widened and I grabbed it, desperately hoping it was-