At 16, I sat on my bed, tears streaming down my face, a positive pregnancy test clutched in my hand, and I called for my sister. I had been seeing a boy on and off for about a year—I was young, in love, and naive. That day, I became a statistic. I wasn’t prepared for this. I had plans to go away to college, to live the typical teenage life, but in that moment, I realized everything I thought about my future was about to change. I cried for hours, unable to stop. My little sister held my hand, whispering that it was going to be okay. When I could barely breathe through the sobs, she squeezed tighter, reminding me I could do this, that I had helped raise her and that she believed in me.
Then my mom walked in. She instantly knew something was wrong. The words tumbled out: “I’m pregnant.” Her eyes were filled with disappointment and shame, and my heart sank as if it had dropped to the floor. Soon after, my stepdad came in, yelling that I had no choice—that I had to get an abortion because I was under 18. I knew he was wrong. I knew I had the right to make my own choice. I made a conscious decision to keep the baby. At my first ultrasound, hearing that tiny heartbeat, I knew without a doubt that I had made the right choice.
My parents told me that if I was keeping the baby, I would have to move out. So, I did. I was a junior in high school, living with my boyfriend’s family at the time. As news of my pregnancy spread, school became unbearable. Walking through the hallways, I could hear whispers and muttered insults—words like “slut” echoing behind me. One cruel person even said, “You might as well have an abortion now and save your unborn child the misery of growing up with you as their mom.” Most of my friends disappeared. No one wanted to be seen with the pregnant girl.
I was due in November, so I started taking online classes over the summer while working at a fast-food restaurant, saving every penny I could. On November 13, I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl named Ella. I was terrified. The nurse assigned to me shared her own story of being a teen mom and stayed by my side through every moment, telling me, “I see something special in you. You can do this.” When they placed Ella on my chest for the first time, I felt complete. In that instant, nothing else mattered. I knew I was going to be a good mom and that I could give her the life she deserved.
Statistics say 40% of teen moms do not graduate high school. I graduated a semester early, in December of my senior year—the first person in my family to ever do so. During that time, I continued working at the fast-food restaurant and saved $1,000 over six months to take a certified nursing assistant class. I wanted a stable career and the ability to provide for my bills. When I turned 18, I started working at a hospital, while waitressing four nights a week. I also worked 12-hour hospital shifts three days a week. It was time to pursue college. I met with a counselor to discuss nursing, my dream career. She warned me about the challenges, especially as a teen mom, but I knew I wanted to follow my dreams—not just for me, but for Ella.
I began taking prerequisites for nursing school, and my passion grew. But life threw another challenge: I discovered that Ella’s dad had been cheating. I was devastated and moved out on my own. For the next two years, I balanced waitressing, hospital work, raising Ella, and studying late into the night. Every night, I pushed through exhaustion because I knew quitting wasn’t an option.
Eventually, I landed a job at my dream hospital in pediatrics. Coworkers and families often asked my age, skeptical of a young nurse. “You’re still a baby—how can you take care of babies?” they’d say. They didn’t know that at home, I was raising one of my own. In January 2018, at 21, I began nursing school. I hoped my mother might help me financially, but she refused. My student loans were maxed, and I feared I would have to quit. Fortunately, my aunt was able to help a little.
The program was grueling, and many classmates quit. I couldn’t. I had bills to pay, and Ella needed me. Some nights, I cried from exhaustion and doubt, wondering if I could go on. But every time I thought about giving up, I looked into Ella’s eyes and found the strength to keep pushing. For two years, I cycled through work, school, and clinical shifts, often going three to four weeks without a day off. I questioned myself constantly but never gave up.
On September 13, 2019, I graduated with my Bachelor of Science in Nursing with honors. I walked across the stage crying, overwhelmed with relief and pride. I had beaten the statistics. I had given my daughter a future I had once thought impossible.
Being a teen mom did not define my life—it motivated me. It taught me perseverance, hard work, and determination. I wouldn’t change a single tear, sleepless night, or long study session. For Ella, I would do it all over again. My story is proof that no matter the challenges, you can pursue your dreams. Life may not deal you the hand you expected, but with dedication, anything is possible.
