I have not the slightest as to what I should pour my heart and soul to here. So for now, my ramblings will have to do. I'll dabble until I can find my groove and when it happens, you better believe its gonna happen good.
So maybe I'll start with a bit of my life's journey. I'm a young mother.
Though 27 is right around the corner for me and I've been a moma for some time now, try 9 years plus belly time, I am and forever will be...a young mother. I was a month from turning 18 when I hit the delivery table for the first time. It seems that now days people are waiting until they're pushing 30, in their 30's, or even 40's to have their first children. And while that is all fine and good, aren't I the one doing it the old fashioned way...never mind the order in which I did them, cough cough.
In high school, I was the girl who you'd never guess would go down this road. Church youth group, school sports... that's what I did. No parties, no drinking, no se..... (insert record scratching sound clip here.) That's right. The goody-goody church girl loved a boy and did the dirty. And what's more...wasn't married, and definitely wasn't being smart about it. Duh. You can get pregnant genius. But of course I wasn't even thinking about that. Needless to say, the un-thought of (and I say so because it just wasn't thought on) did indeed happen. I waddled...strike that... I did not waddle!... walked across the graduation stage 7 months pregnant.
2 months later, with 30+ friends and family shuffling in and out of my labor and delivery room, my first precious gift was born.
As can be expected, I got many nasty looks and rude questions/comments from strangers. People judged me because of my age. I always assumed that they thought I was some little slut who couldn't possibly be a good mom. My EX (woo hoo!)-step-mother had even said to me once, early on, that I was a bad mother. Dude! I had been a mom for aproximately 1 month at that time.... not to mention that I had moved from her home to live with my boyfriend, my daughter's father; she didn't like that. There was no basis for her words. We were arguing about my moving and she just let it fly right on out... like she had room to talk... blah. I'm going to stop wasting space on her.
I think...no, I know... I developed mild issues because of this- because of my assumtions of what people where thinking of me. I've carried it around for 9 years now. And I truly have no reason to agree or even think on those things. Because I've proved them all wrong.