I was 16 when I met my son’s father and 8 months later, I was 17 when I fell pregnant. I won’t go into the hows and whys, all I will say is, I can look back now and know I made all the right decisions.
My son was born in 2006, six weeks before my 18th birthday. I lived at my Mum’s for a while, until I turned 18, and then our little family moved into a house together. I was half way through my A Levels when J was born, and when he was 7 months old, I went back to finish them. It was a strange year, the one where we all lived together as a family. I became quite isolated, but worst of all was the feeling that, despite everything, and the decisions I had made so far, for so many reasons something just wasnt right. I knew that somewhere, not so far down the line, it would all fall apart. My son’s father and I eventually broke up when J had just turned 1 year old.
At the time, I felt awful that this had happened so soon in my son’s life, and that the whole story had even happened at all. It took me a long time to surrender to it all and accept that this was my lot and that now my purpose was to raise this little boy of mine to be a wonderfully kind, courageous, strong and gentle man. That this was all that really mattered. I still have to remind myself of this often. It’s not always easy, in fact it pretty much never is easy. But the best things on life never are.
Being a single, young mother has its pros and cons and so it does not necessarily have to be any worse than being any other type of mother, but it is definitely a difficult road. I have wanted and always will want to be a good mother, and can honestly say that I am the best I can be. So yes, the hows and whys aren’t important; what is important is the future, and making sure that we both have a good journey from this point. This, my blog, is the story of that journey into the future for my son and I, wherever it may lead.