Unapologetic Motherhood

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  • Diary of a grown up teen mom

    Does that title make sense? I didn’t think so, but right now, a whole lot doesn’t makes sense when you are raising a teenager. One minute you are potty training, and the next you’re arguing about the sky being blue. No, really that is an argument we have actually had before. I guess that is what I get for having a kid so young. You two basically grow up together, which means we mature together. Nobody at 17 is a rational thinker, and if they tell you otherwise, then frankly they are a liar. At 17 I should have been focusing on Johnny down the street, not deciding what bow should be in my newborns hair, but maybe crushing on Johnny is what landed me a teen mom in the first place.

    Want to know a secret? My life could be completely different than what it is today.

    I found out I was pregnant at 16, and I remember the day so vividly. I was back home in Indiana visiting my friends. My family and I moved to Lake Havasu for my moms nursing job. I thought with the stress of moving to another state, my “Aunt flo” was just running a little behind, if you have read this far- you know now, it in fact was not stress related. Little did I know a little bean was growing inside of me. I broke the news to my mom the next morning. Her and I cried together in the McDonalds drive thru- (one thing you’ll learn about my mom is she LOVES a good diet coke from McDonalds). Mamaw and Papaw came next. Mamaw was jumping up and down with excitement- not a reaction I was expecting, but that basically sums up who she is, and what I have always been to her, and what she has been to me, my number one supporter. Papaw was probably the most heartbreaking, he didn’t say a single word, just shook his head and left me there in the kitchen, begging for a glimpse of approval. Kind of silly to think like that in my situation, right? I almost knew immediately that I couldn’t raise a child, and the decision was made.. adoption it was.

    My mom was supportive almost immediately, she went with me to agencies to meet potential families. It became surreal. I remember thinking “here I am sitting across a family that could choose the path for this child. Would she be a doctor? A lawyer? An artist? Would I truly be ok with not knowing?” Weeks turned into months, and I found every flaw in these families- in reality they were great. I know I was being selfish- “you want to homeschool?” Pass. “You don’t like animals?” Pass. Hell, they could have told me their favorite color was green, and I would have used that as an excuse to keep this baby away from them. None of it felt right, to me it just wasn’t natural. Adoption is a beautiful selfless act. One that I could not commit to for the life of me. To be fair, most teenagers are selfish at that age, so I like to give myself a pass. I broke down to my mom in a gas station parking lot- I knew in my heart that I had to raise this baby. I could not let her go.

    Here we are 13 beautiful years later. I brought her home on a beautiful sunny day in June. At 18 we moved into our first apartment that was anything but spectacular. I finished schooling and went on to college where she watched me walk across that stage and earn my degree. Our two bedroom house was upgraded into a cute little bungalow, just right for the two of us. She had her very own backyard- I watched her do cart wheels, and just tried to imagine where I would be if she wasn’t here with me. I like to think she quite literally saved my life. She watched me hit every milestone, she cheered me on from the stands- and now I get to do that for her. I am watching this girl I once held so small and so fragile, mold into everything I wasn’t growing up. She is brave, she is kind, and she is absolutely badass. She has inspired me every day to get up and do better.

    Our fights over blue skies happen so rarely, but even when they do, why would I change a thing about them? A fight over a blue sky is my happy place- do you think I am crazy yet?

    Papaw came around- the day she was born he came to hold his very first great granddaughter. This gentle giant who I looked up to my whole life smiled at me and said “you did good” and in that moment I knew I did. I never became an advocate for teen pregnancy, why would I? It’s very irresponsible. I don’t brag to people that I became a mom at 17, and truthfully sometimes I don’t even correct people when we are out in public and I am called her sister, although she shuts it down almost immediately and says “no, that’s my mom” (she might be my biggest hater) I will however advocate following your heart, and sometimes going against the norm. If I never took the leap of becoming a young mom, I would have never been motivated to finish school, get a house, and fall in love. That little bean became my lucky charm.

    I always feared I would hold some type of resentment towards my choices. I did go to college, but never lived on dorm. I didn’t get to spring break in Panama City like most of my friends, and my prom date was my toddler. I didn’t have the normal “teenage life” Instead of sneaking out my window, I was sneaking past a crib.

    Here I am today. A grown up teen mom, that still doesn’t have her life figured out, but I have a pretty cool teenage copilot humbling me along the way.

  • Love and abuse.

    I loved an abuser. I also protected him for 5 years. Admittedly, I’ve been too embarrassed and scared to tell my story, but I’m not anymore. 

    I’ve had friends in abusive relationships. Time and time again I wanted to shake them by their shoulders, and scream “WHAT ARE YOU DOING” how could you let yourself go through this. To those friends, I had a secret too, and I’m sincerely sorry for judging you, while the doors in my house were slammed too. 

    I always downplayed my abuse. There was only one time I ever feared for my life, I considered that pretty good. My abuse was mostly mental and verbal. Items have been thrown, but never touched me, doors have been slammed but never hurt me. No, mine was a constant reassurance that I’ll never be anything with out him. Sprinkle in some name calling and that was my life.

    It wasn’t always like that though. I became pregnant with my oldest at 16, and then had her at 17. I actually had her 25 days after my 17th birthday, I’ve always called her my late birthday present. For the next 7 years it was always just her and I. She saw me through every milestone. She is in my prom picture, my high school graduation, and watched me earn my college degree. She was always my greatest accomplishment though. Our first place together was a two bedroom run down apartment, the walls were cracked, the floors creaked, but with her it was HOME. 

    For awhile I always thought it would be her and I, some days I was content with that idea. Some days I knew my girl deserved better. She deserved to have the family I once prayed for as a little girl. The dad, the mom, and the siblings. I had everything but the dad, and while my mom was an absolute rockstar at raising us kids by herself, I always wonder how different I would have turned out if I had the love of a father. 

    I met my ex funnily enough on a date with his friend, but we didn’t reconnect until a year or two later. I call it my “meet cute” moment, we ran into eachother in broad ripple on Halloween weekend, to me that was fate, one of the busiest weekends in Indy, and there we were. At that moment, my prayers were answered. The family 17 year old me prayed for was finally about to be my reality. 

    My family kept growing. We bought our first fur baby together, and soon enough we welcomed our little Charlotte. I’ve never really had a passion in life until I became a mother. To this day, being a mom is the only thing I’m good at, and that’s the one thing I’ll pride myself in. Here I was 10 years later experiencing motherhood in the way I always wanted. I was a stay at home mom, and took care of the house. I was able to join my oldest on field trips, and for that I was truly blessed. I no longer had to work two jobs, to keep clothes on our backs. I was able to slow down, and enjoy my life. 

    Eventually we built a house in the town he grew up in. Together we picked out the color scheme, the layout, and the paint for our rooms. Board by board our dream came to life, we signed a stud “bless this home” under our drywall in our kitchen, that will stay there forever, even though the people who wrote it won’t. I’ve always said I created the foundation of this family, he just came in and tightened the screws. I still give him credit for showing me that life can exist, even if it’s not with the person you hoped for. 

    Weeks became months, and months became years. Our lives became routined, admittedly we both stopped trying to keep the spark. Maybe me more so. When he wanted to try to fix things, I was shut down, and when I wanted to try he was checked out. I remember being on my knees one night begging for the bare minimum, that’s all I needed to stay.. was a night out. We both so badly wanted our family to work, unfortunately it was at different times. 

    My lightbulb moment was reading Colleen Hoovers “it ends with us” but after watching the movie with my best friend Lindsey, and seeing my life on screen, I knew it was time to let go of the family that was no longer in my keeps. I turned 30 and said to myself “this can’t be it, this can’t be what I prayed for and what little girls look forward to” I built up the courage to move out. 

    I am now 30 living with my parents. Luckily, they had a vacant in law suite and a few open rooms for my girls. I started therapy three days later. I recently started going to church to feel closer to God. I have breakdowns where I still text my ex, sometimes cry over the phone, still begging for another chance. Maybe that’s the love I still have for him, or some sort of trauma bond I have to help breakdown. I remember the good moments, and how they were great. Could the bad really be that bad, if the good was really that good? Well, I’ll save that question for my therapist. 

    All I know is it took everything in me to walk out that door of the house I tried to make a home. I’m still trying to find my strength, and my voice. All I know for now is the road ahead is long and probably bumpy, but I have some pretty cool passengers to keep me company along the way. 

  • Introduction/Rebranding

     Hi everyone! I wanted to try to find a way to express myself- my therapist always brings up “journaling” your feelings, but lets be real, it’s 2025. Does anyone even own a notebook anymore? Todays day an age is all about blogging. So here is my go. 

    Most of you know me, since I am posting the link on my personal facebook page. But, just in case you don’t, allow me to do a quick introduction. My name is Samantha, I am a newly single mother of two beautiful girls Cambrey (13) and Charlotte (4) If you are looking at this picture and thinking “she looks way too young to have a 13 year old” first of all, thank you, and secondly you would be correct. I was thrown into motherhood at the age of 17. Since then my oldest has experienced every trial and tribulation with me. Char joined the ride almost 10 years later. 

    I wanted my blog to be an outlet for my feelings, a safe space. I guess I needed to give my bathroom floor a little bit of a break, and try a healtheir way to cope the loss of my family. I also wanted to give others like me a chance to feel not so alone, because I think every woman ever who has experienced heartbreak has felt alone in her recovery journey. Who knows if this will be a permanent source, but where is the harm in trying? Even if my stories help at least one person not feel so alone, then what I was seeking was found. 

    Stay tuned my friends, and buckle up. This story has just begun.