My first born

I just graduated high school when those two little pink lines appeared on the test, and I was not yet ready to be a mother. I’m sitting in my bed, unsure of what to do. When I went to the doctor, I was told that I had options. But I knew even then that keeping you was the only choice I would consider.

I was still trying to figure out who I was when you were born. Raising a child when you are still a child yourself was difficult. And I apologize for that. Because I was terrified to leave the house certain days, you lost out on a lot.

“Isn’t that your brother?”
“That can’t possibly be your child.” “Didn’t your parents educate you how to be safe?”

I was terrified.
Even ashamed.

And I apologize for that.
You and I both grew older as the years passed.
The guilt and embarrassment I had previously felt began to fade. I was so proud of the little human you were becoming. And it makes me sad to think about your first few years of existence with me.
I was always so preoccupied with what others thought of me that I actually believed them when they said I was too young to be a decent mother.

We spent a lot of time at home.
Mommy would make up a story about her age.
And I apologize for that.

I felt regret as you grew older and I looked back on our early years.
Sadness.
Angry.
I spent a lot of time blaming myself.
“Well, I was young at the time. All of those individuals were correct. I simply wasn’t prepared to become a mother.”
I didn’t see it until last year, when I was browsing through old images of the two of us.
Your grin.
In each photograph.
You had a constant smile on your face.
From the time You was a baby until today.

You appeared to be content.
Loved.
Even though you were raised by a teen mother, your grin shone so brightly in the old images that I could feel your joy.
That’s when I knew I’d always been ready to be your mother.
And you, my dear child, have always known

You were always very patient with me.
You were maturing, just as I was maturing.
We grew up together, and I believe that is very significant.
As I sat there looking through old images of the two of us, I thought to myself…
Perhaps, just perhaps, I was always prepared to be your mother.

Because, despite all of the bad comments directed at us , we appear to be quite content.
Looking back at those old images, I know I was always ready to be your mother, my child.
And you were destined to be my baby boy from the start.

Love Always,

Your mom

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