My Experience as a Teenage Mother Essay -- Personal Narrative Pregnanc

My Experience as a juvenile Mother Twenty-six years have brought many changes to my home in the mountains of East Tennessee one of the most important of these changes being the slow decay of what I call the racial divide. This change had just begun to mesh place when I found myself a frightened pregnant teen growing up in the small community of Shell creek in Carter County, Tennessee. It was 1977 and of the few hundred people in town, I was original I would be the first to have a child that was half(a) black and half white. My parents divorced when I was ten years old, so I grew up in my grandparents home, a place filled with sack come out and acceptance. My grandparents had n forever imparted any type of prejudice, racial or otherwise to my slight mind. However, I knew the Baptist church Grandma attended every Sunday warned against bi-racial relationships.. My grandparents were beloved and sincere in their faith so they accepted this way of thinking. Wo uld my family ever be able to accept this child I was carrying? I didnt think they could at the time so I kept my secret. heavy the childs father was out of the question as I knew he was non interested in me or our child. My pregnancy was a bi-product of youth and ignorance.The summer of 1977 passed quickly for me and the child growing inside me. I thought of the baby as a male child, although I had no root word what sex my baby was. Sometimes I wondered what he would look like. Was he smart? What would he become? Mostly I wondered how my family would react to him. How in the world was I going to raise a child completely? Being only sixteen, I was still a child myself. I knew I had only a few months to discover an answer to my question.By late fall I was b... ...nge. As she removed the tiny diaper, I saw what appeared to be a large bruise on the little boys bottom. My heart raced and I saw red in both eyes.What have you done to my baby? I screamed loud copious to w ake the exhausted woman sharing my room. I lifted my tippy body from the bed with angry force. Where did he get that bruise? I demanded. The startled nurse looked at me like I was insane.Thats a Mongolian spot, very common in mixed babies, she explained. Its not a big deal. I promise no one has cut him.At that moment I knew I loved the little boy like Id never loved before. I would treasure him with my life, giving him all the love in my heart. I had to figure out how to be the mother he deserved.Logan and I left the hospital unneurotic the next morning. Logan is in Iraq fighting for freedom and I came home to the mountains I love.