Not another teenage mom...

I was 21 when I got pregnant--not exactly a teenage mom. But I was the only one of my friends who was going to have a baby, I had dropped out of college, I was still dependent on my parents, and I was not married. In many aspects, I still felt like a teenager--certainly not someone who was ready to be responsible for an innocent. I was barely able to be responsible for myself. Throw in an abusive relationship with the father and you'll understand why I stayed awake at night wondering what I was getting me and the baby into.

I remember breaking the news to my parents. The baby's father and I had gotten into a huge screaming fight and I retreated to my mother's house. I told her point-blank as I entered the door, crying, that I was pregnant and the father was a jerk and she held me and rocked me. She was more afraid than I was--still, her strength inspired me. It was one of the more supportive times we've shared in our relationship--I needed her and she was there for me. She did not chide me or tell me how stupid I was. She simply rocked me and hugged me.

My parents had just gotten divorced. I spent afternoons at my dad's house. One night when he was preparing dinner I told him that I had something I wanted to tell him. He was in a jovial mood, for once, and he laughed and said "Let me guess--you're pregnant? Ha, ha."
I was not expecting that. It threw me off guard.
"Yeah, actually I am." I said. His face deflated as though all the air had left a balloon. I could virtually see his heart jumping as he looked into my eyes and saw that there was truth in them. He dropped the spoon he was holding and hugged me. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry," he kept saying. He cried. I told him not to be sorry, that it was good news and I was happy about it. I wanted him to be happy too.

Later I felt guilty for putting my dad through that. He worried about me. But I remember thinking from the very beginning that everyone in my life needed to know right away: my child was too important to keep a secret. My child deserved a well-prepared reception.

The next day I told my grandmother. I remember my aunt telling me that she knew I was serious about keeping the baby once I had told grandma. I cleaned my grandma's house once or twice a week. We were in the back bedroom and she was showing me some knick-knack she had bought at a garage sale. I said "Grandma, I have good news for you--you're going to be a great-grandmother." She cried and covered her mouth with her petite hands and then she hugged me. She giggled like a school-girl. Later that day she came to me and said she was happy for me but she just wished that the baby was being born under better circumstances. I had to agree--I had the same desire. I was happy that she had said this instead of giving me the speech about sex before marriage and how dissappointed she was. Whatever feelings she had in this regard, she was kind enough to keep to herself. Things went better than I had expected.

She told my grandfather the news that night, I am sure. The next day I saw him in the blueberry field and he stopped to talk to me. My grandfather is a man of few words. His truck crawled to a stop when he saw me in the rows and he rolled down his window--my cue to walk over and initiate a conversation. "Hi grandpa," I said cheerfully. It was a warm spring day, the bees were buzzing, the clinic had just called to tell me that I was STD-free, and I was in a good mood. Grandpa didn't say much. He talked about everything except my pregnancy. So I brought it up--"Grandma told you the news, didn't she?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, and smiled.
"Good," I said.
And that was that. He asked how I was feeling. "Fine." I remember telling him
that I was thinking as many happy thoughts as I could so that maybe I will have a happy baby. This made him laugh.

When I decided to tell everyone in my life--including the people I feared telling the most--the result was that I garnered more support than I could ever have imagined. It instantly threw me into the full pitch of motherhood. It became so very real. I had multitudes of people sharing my excitement and concerns. They made sure I always had the most comfortable seat and wouldn't even let me get up to wash the dishes or brew iced-tea.

Issac Graceson David was born December 9, 2002. He was a happy baby. I have wished that the circumstances regarding his womb-house could have be more delightful, more peaceful, more traditional. Issac's vessel was beseiged with screaming voices at 3 am, with wracking sobs and confusion and grief and sometimes pure hatred.

At times, for Issac, I have envied the fetus of the married couple, the ripe love growing between both parents as they bless the womb together, the circle of enchantment that the two cast together as they become three, the spirit of undeniable love which surrounds their child. The circle that was cast between Issac and myself and his father was a different kind of circle-a pleading with his father to behave, I covenant that I must become a stronger woman, a dissension and breaking of comfort and habit. I'm not sure who grew more during the gestation period--Issac or myself.

It is strange how something so convoluted and terrifying at first has led to so many small miracles--my dad is not in the greatest health and gets to enjoy a grandson before he dies, my mom is able to reconnect with her inner child and has a new source of joy in her life to pull her out of her depression, my relationship with my entire family has improved dramatically as we rallied together, I have become more independent and driven than ever before, I am going to graduate from college this year, I left an abusive partner and learned about my own self-worth, and I have learned how to put my best foot forward and have faith in the prevailing power of love.

Once I was weak, and now I am strong. So strong. Issac has awakened a primal force within me. I am instantaneously a tiger and a swan. I have found that fine line between protection and vulnerability. I am fierce and gentle. I demand respect and I receive it. I have experienced raw true love. I will never be the same. I am a mother, a protector, a healer, a guide. I am a statue, a monument, a rock, stability. I am a lover, a kisser, a hunter, a friend. I am direction, a vision, hope, and a home.