Growing Up (#TNTWillContest)

I remember it like it was yesterday. The nurse entered the doctor's office, holding a box of Kleenex. Her features sullen, her voice, somber.

"I'm sorry," she said. "You're pregnant."

She thrust the tissue box in my direction and the tears began to pour.

I cried. For the disappointment I was about to hand deliver to my parents, for me and all the things I'd never get to do, but most of all for this little unborn person growing inside my belly. I was a teenager, barely able to decide on what to wear in the morning, let alone the life defining kind of choices that go hand in hand with being someone's mother.

I didn't bother with the tissue, too busy trying to stop the flood of tears leaking from my eyes with my sleeve. "Are you sure?" I asked.

She nodded. "The test turned positive before the timer finished."

I couldn't bring myself to see my mother's heartbreak when I told her, so I wrote her a letter. As expected, she freaked. She called me upstairs, smoked a cigarette and made me feel like the worst person on the planet. And then she took a breath and to my complete surprise, she said. "I can't tell you this is going to be easy, because it's the hardest thing you'll ever do, but we're here for you."

Being a child pregnant with a child, I was targeted with an onslaught of judgment from people I now realize had no business judging me. I remember the school setting up a meeting with the guidance counsellor, who gently suggested adoption, so as not to "ruin my future."

Screw you, guidance counsellor. And anyone who felt the need to tell me my life was destined for failure because of the trials and tribulations of my impending motherhood.

Nine months later, Dani came into this world a little fighter and she's been one ever since. When I brought her home, I promised her that no matter what, I'd protect her with my entire being, always. The first few years, I was a phenomenal disaster. Somehow, I kept her alive, and I cherished her more than anything on the planet, but I still made bad decisions.

Time, however, is a very gentle teacher. All those bad decisions weren't coincidence or bad luck: they were meant to teach me something. They did. With some major hard work, I now live very a blessed life. I have a wonderful family, a job I love, and a passion for writing.

And just in case I'm not already way older than some may guess, I'm happy to report that last year, I watched my beautiful, intelligent, exceptional daughter walk across the stage and graduate high school, thrust into the sudden world of adulthood with both grace and confidence. This June, on her 19th birthday, we got tattooed. Me with a key, and her with the matching lock, because that's precisely how we fit together, against all the odds. 

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