Defining Moments

Defining moments How my premature induction to motherhood earned me a college education.

I was in denial until the 8th month, until there was no way I could continue to cover up the rounded bump under my baggy shirt. I was afraid to tell them, I was only 15 years old. While they pretended not to notice the swelling bulge, I refused to acknowledge the agonizing morning sickness and the silvery streaks on my belly.
My heart sinks when I think of the tears rolling down my mom’s face. It was a hot day in August when my parents found and read a letter I had written to a friend. I don’t know if they were more upset because I was pregnant or because I didn’t tell them. My parents all but gave up hope that I would earn a high school diploma, let-alone a college degree. After all, I had only finished my sophomore year. Back then, there were no programs for teen parents, no on-site day care, no web-based alternative schools. The best I could do was attend night classes and test for the GED at the nearby community college.
“What about college?” The words my parents cried the day they learned I was pregnant burned into my memory, “We thought you were going to college.” THOUGHT; past tense. Their disappointment motivated me to defy the predication that I would join other teen parents on welfare row that I would be a burden to society. I wonder today if I would have made it this far had it not been for that single moment. Would I have pushed myself so hard to achieve if it had not been for the challenge to prove everyone wrong?
It would have been easy to give up with all the excuses I had. I didn’t have to worry about disappointing anyone because no one had any expectations of me. Why try? As long as I continued to fit the stereotype, I met all that was expected of me. This would have been an easy way out, but I expected more from myself.
When I took ownership of my future I rejected the excuses and started looking for my own solutions
Becoming a mother at 16 is not ideal, but it’s not the end of life either. Like so many of life’s curve balls, you can take a swing or just sit back and hope to walk. The messages all around me were of despair and pity. I don’t recall a single person telling me that I could still make something of my life. That’s not to say that my parents were unsupportive, quite the contrary. They were there for my daughter and me; they accepted us unconditionally. Nevertheless, it was up to me to if I wanted more out of life for my daughter and me.
With the support of my family, I studied for my GED and earned my certificate when I was 16. The following year I started college, right on schedule. That first year of college didn’t go so well. I was barely 18 years old with a toddler and I had moved 30 miles from my family; not a good formula for success. I completed five quarters with less than a 2.0 grade point average and decided it probably wasn’t a good time for me to be in college.
I returned to college about three years later, after I was married and had a second child. My first husband was an extremely abusive drug addict. I remember the shock and horror of one of my new class mates when I told her my husband ripped up all of my clothes so that I couldn’t come to school. “He doesn’t sound very nice” was all she could say. She doesn’t know how right she was, the clothes were the least of my worries.
He left on our third anniversary. I was jobless, without transportation or money. Needless to say, I was not able to complete that school year. Instead, I got a job 200 miles away, commuting back and forth every weekend. I took my kids with me and we lived in a 2-bedroom apartment with 10 other people. Fortunately, it was a temporary arrangement and I earned enough money to pay my rent and buy a car.
I returned to school the following term and finished with my associates degree a year later. I was 24, six years after I originally started college.
Fast-forward five years, I remarried and had another child (my third). I decided it was time for me to go back to school to earn my bachelor’s degree, and my (second) husband supported my decision. He earned enough money to support our family so I quit my job to attend school full-time and take care of the kids. Three months later, he was gone.
Again, I was unemployed, but this time I had a mortgage and car payment to make. Fortunately, my mortgage was backed by a subsidized first-time homebuyer program and I was able to pay reduced payments based on my income. It was a tremendous relief that I wouldn’t lose my house; I needed the stability and security for my kids, at the time 5, 10 and 14 years old.
I remember attending new student orientation before fall classes began. I thought to myself, “I don’t even know why I’m here; I can’t do this on my own.” Deep down, I hoped that my husband would come back and take care of everything so I could go back to school. I decided that if he came home, I would go back to school, and if he didn’t, I would get a job. When I realized that I was letting him dictate the path I would take, I once again took matters into my own hands; I would go back to school whether he came home or not.
Fall term started two months later. I was still jobless and still alone. I questioned how I would make it work. The only answer I could come up with was “one term at a time”. I could make a commitment to one term. I could not predict where I would be in a year, or even 6 months, but I knew I could make it one term. I figured that if it were too hard, I would not sign up for a second term. I reminded myself… ‘Put one-foot-in-front-of-the-other’, no need to leap ahead into the unknown. In the end, my one-term-at-a-time attitude saw me all the way through to my graduation. I was 34years old, but I earned my bachelor’s degree! I didn’t take the traditional path, but I kept moving forward and I never felt as though I was a quitter.
When I tell my kids that they can do anything they put their mind to, they know I am not just paying lip service. If I’ve taught them anything by my example, it is that perseverance pays off and that you have to work for everything you want out of life.
It took me nearly a decade of therapy to recognize how my faith propped me up when I could have easily just quit. I jumped many hurdles to build the life that I now have. The faith that I held on to, and continue to hold, is that there is a reason for everything, there is a master plan. Regardless of how I might perceive it at the time, ultimately, everything I go through is to my benefit in the long run. I do not have to know all the reasons, I just need to keep my mind (and my eyes) open for when the answers present themselves. In the meantime, I just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

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