In a perfect world – at least as a christian I know you’re only meant to start being sexually active in marriage. You are supposed to save that part of yourself until someone has made you his one and only, until that person has declared in-front of the whole world that you two belong to each other and only until that person has devoted themselves to you in a sacred ceremony called marriage. You know – honeymoon? Unfortunately for me, this was never the case – but I have always thought that if you start being sexually active at an older age you are supposed to be smarter, wiser or at-least more cautious. I had to revisit my thoughts when I found myself pregnant at 18 years of age, still in high school and still living with my mom.
I still remember the day when my husband (then boyfriend) told me I was pregnant. After months of us fighting and me being moody, my stomach growing at a rapid speed (I’ve always had a figure, it was my most known feature), and even though he was sure that I was pregnant I refused to believe him. After two months of getting sick, I finally took the pregnancy test, two lines! It had two lines instead of one, it was not meant to have two lines. I remember myself fading, all sense left me, how am I gonna explain this to my mother? What am I gonna say? Who should I tell first – my 15 year old sister who know’s nothing about having a boyfriend let alone how to handle pregnancy or my brother who was more than 1000 km’s away?I had plans of my 18th birthday celebration, the dress I’d be wearing, who would make the guest list and who wouldn’t. Finding out I was pregnant wasn’t the hardest part of it all, heck even confirming this with my boyfriend wasn’t the hardest part- it was the look my mom gave me that destroyed me. It was the disappointment on her face, it was the fact that for once in her life she was speechless and not in a good way. At that point, I would have done everything in my power to take that look away from her face. What was she thinking? How was she feeling? Did she still love me? Did she have this picture of me doing the deed? Did she start envisioning me in a promiscuous way? Did she want to disown me? Did she wish I was never born? That look crushed my spirit.
Fast forward to 9 months later and I had the heaviest, cutest bundle of joy and for that moment everything was perfect. She had the tiniest hands, the softest feet, she was pure and she was mine. I’ll never forget that moment – my mother walking up and down praying and my man holding my hand by my side. Man, it’s been such a journey full of ups and downs. Today, Chantal is 9 years old, my second baby is 2 years old and I have baby number 3 ready to pop out any-day now. I have been assigned so many roles in my life – Daughter, sister, friend, lover, wife but no role feels as good as that of being a mother to my two (pending three) children – everything else I am just winging. When I sit and look at Chantal who seems to be getting bigger with every passing moment I finally understand that look on my mothers face – It was not anger nor was it rage. Granted, it was disappointment – she wanted me to live and enjoy my life before I had to share it with anyone else. It’s because she knew that when you bring someone else into this world, your decisions are no longer about you anymore and she knew how consuming being a mother is. She still wanted me to enjoy my youth, to travel the world, to make my mistakes, to grow and learn, to fall in love and change my mind. She wanted me to experience life and all it could offer without having to consider someone else first. Blame it on being with one man for over 10 years or for my mature outlook on life, but as much as it’s been a roller-coaster of a ride. There have been days where I’ve cried myself to sleep because I was tired and I just wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing. Tough decisions being made, ugly fights and countless arguments but I believe I was born to be a mother.
Children have a way of changing one’s life. Private toilet times, long bubble baths, spontaneous girls trips – these are all rare occasions. Instead of planning your next night out you find yourself busy with Go Kart Forms, preparing lunch for the next week (Healthy snacks please mommy but it must also have chocolate), casual day at school.
Mandy didn’t talk to me today!
There’s a boy who pushed me on the swing!
Why did you take me to the hairdresser? Why are you hurting me mommy?
We’re having a concert and I’m the tree this time, I don’t want to be a tree mommy!
Aunt hasn’t called me the whole week, she doesn’t love me anymore.
More than anything you get the warmest of hugs, you get random kisses – most times it’s accompanied by what I like to refer to as “mouth juice”. You have your own personal cheerleader, someone telling you they love you at every hour. You get this tingling that I simply cannot explain, this fulfillment, this dangerous love every time you look at your kids. With every passing minute I know that I would not change a thing. Even though I was young, naive and didn’t know what I was doing (Might have dropped my child once or twice) – they are mine and I love them with every ounce of my being.
Okay, baby number three you can arrive now!!