The First Trimester

Stories not being told, voices not being heard.  Port Townsend Free Press set out to address that shortcoming in our local journalism scene. That means more than politics and investigative reporting, if we are to meet the goals we have set for ourselves. This young woman approached us with the idea of writing about her teen pregnancy and sharing what was in her head and heart at each step towards her son’s birth. Jefferson County is old, face it.  Most people are far removed from the challenges of the children and teens around us.  We need to be reminded, to learn and understand better what they are facing.   We do not know where Ravyn will take us, but she has our trust and confidence.  We hope and pray for the best, and want to let her know we support and admire the strong woman is becoming through the way she is embracing this huge challenge early in her young life.  We publish her articles under the name which she has chosen for herself and by which she is known in her community–The Editor 

A bright, new life enters the world through me. Even at 17 and knowing the impossibilities and challenges ahead, I know this child is more than me. God saved me through my baby boy.  I had been a horrible person, to myself and others.  This baby inside my body is transforming me.  I wouldn’t do a thing to change His plan for me, and this child that now depends on me for everything.

Rent, diapers, stroller, car seat, food; a whirlwind of sudden expectations and needs that most won’t face at this age. That’s what this pregnancy has brought upon me–me and my husband, who is still a teenager himself. As a pregnant teen, I had many choices. Even as an adult I would have had these choices but they seemed more crucial at this young age. Do I abort my child? Give him up for adoption? Do I marry the father? Do I love the father? Was this even remotely a good mistake…? No, no, yes, yes, and no. There was no mistake, no accident. It all happened for a reason. I am convinced of that.

I hadn’t expected the test to be positive. Stress and hate and sadness and loneliness were all I could see and taste. My period being late? Common in situations of distress. Tired? Aren’t I always? But that test proved what many had said and told me was the truth. Maybe I was denying it to myself, but that extra pink line on that test card was unmistakable. My boyfriend at the time was sitting outside the restroom I was using. When I showed him the card with the colored lines, his whole face seemed to collapse, age, then brighten all within seconds. There was no doubt what we would do.  It was ours, and this child would stay with us no matter the consequences.

Days passed. Another test. Another positive result. We had to tell our parents.

Everything went by in a blur after that.  Our parents wanted to make sure we were not reading the results wrong. More tests followed. Papers were signed.  I had to start learning about insurance, how much doctors cost and how medical bills get covered.  Lots of appointments, the school year ending, the anxiety and joys of ultrasounds; my future was changing fast as my past dropped away. I married the father of my child on the 23rd of June, sealing our family together and starting a new chapter in three lives.

We moved in together. We pay rent together, laugh, cry, fight, and dream together. I couldn’t ask for more and I wouldn’t want any less. It seemed perfect. I got my old job back. I had my lover with me. My baby was healthy and growing. I was a new person.

Then my first paycheck came in….and the second.  Realty hit hard.  How could we ever make it on this small income? The Social Security for my husband stopped. He didn’t have a job and there suddenly was less than $500 a month between us…when rent was $700! I cried. “We can’t make it,” was my only thought. I was bringing my child into a world of disappointment, crime, sadness. The grim, daily news on the television and radio, the money not being enough, and not enough love in the world—in my life!—to compensate for the bad.

Oh, Lord, why has this happened to me?

NEXT: The Second Trimester