Being twenty-one, single, and seven months pregnant is a tough place to be. Besides the entire transformation that takes over your mind and your body, people suddenly become a lot more interested in you. You can’t make it through the market, or the post office, or the park, without someone staring or offering advice. It’s not that the kind words can’t be appreciated, it just becomes overwhelming. I don’t think most older parents understand the journey that a young, single, inexperienced woman takes on as a first time mom.
Every day becomes a countdown to tomorrow. Boredom became the center stage of my life. And the TV became my best friend. After a while, people were surprised I knew what jeans were. All of the things I thought were fun no longer applied to me, and I started doing fun things. At twenty-one, scrapbooking and journaling aren’t really at the top of too many people’s list. I can’t reach my toes and it looks like a five-year-old has painted them. Shaving my legs has become a vigorous workout. And managing to get a full night’s sleep feels like winning the lottery. I know my sleepless nights are practice for what’s to come, but it still gets to me. Learning to love my new self, and the new life inside of me, is an every-minute-of-the-day process. My mind and my body took off, and somehow I’ve managed to keep up so far. I have never been through this kind of experience before, and it’s a constant question of what’s right and what can be done better. I’ve never considered myself a grown up and now I’m getting ready to take on a much heavier role as mom. I hope I’m not missing out on what’s in between. I’ve decided to take this on, knowing I am alone and knowing I am not fully ready for this. Even though I am only twenty-one, I know myself and I know this isn’t life’s only plan for me. It just must be a vital part of something much bigger. Something I can’t understand yet. Even though I haven’t found my direction in life yet, I wish people would understand I am not lost.
