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17 and Pregnant

My First Pregnancy and Birth Story

By Janetta PoitraPublished 6 years ago 4 min read
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Picture credit to Blaise Poitra

April 15, 2012 was the day I found out I was pregnant. Only 17 years old and unsure what I wanted to do with my life. I was scared, wondering what I was going to do; abortion? No I don't believe in that. Adoption? No I have to at least try. I got in this mess, I have to raise this child. What if I don't have a choice? No I always have a choice. My choice is to raise this child I created.

Ever since I turned 10, I always thought that I would adopt. I never wanted to get pregnant and have kids. I wanted to adopt those older kids that you always saw on TV that never had parents. I wanted to be the one to show them that someone cares no matter what and that they can know love. Now here I am. 17 and one and a half months pregnant. My boyfriend, now my fiance, was only 16 and we were both unsure on how to be parents or what we were going to do. We were both Juniors in high school. One year left, I thought, I can make it.

The day after I found out we told both our families. They weren't too happy, but supported us. Afterwords my boyfriend moved in with my dad and I. He dropped out got his GED and got a job. My pregnancy was pretty easy and I didn't have any issues.

Senior year rolled around. I had changed to the alternative school that was two blocks from home. There they had a daycare and everything on site. I had finished a whole class and turned 18 by the time she was born on December 12, 2012, I was 41 weeks and one day when she was born.

Her birth was where I had issues. I went to the hospital early in the morning on the 11th for contractions. They sent me home due to them not being close enough. That afternoon I had a doctor's appointment with my OB/GYN and she went to check how effaced I was and accidentally broke my water. I was happy, she kept saying, "Oh I'm so sorry. I didn't meant to," because she had made the pressure I felt subsided. The scheduler got the wheel chair and pushed me to labor and delivery. They sat me in my room and stabbed me seven times trying to find a vein in my arm. They finally got one located on my wrist bone. My dad and mom stayed with me. My mom kept track of my contractions while I laid there waiting. I finally broke down, while taking a shower with the help of my boyfriend, begging him to let me get the epidural. I so desperately didn't want the weeks leading up to this day. He gave in and at about one or so in the morning, I had them come in and give me an epidural, only because I hadn't slept for days and I didn't want to push a baby out with no sleep. Shortly after getting it I fell asleep until 8:45 AM. The nurse came in and woke me up, putting an oxygen mask on me and said that my oxygen levels were low. Five minutes later the doctor came in to check me and he started to tell me that I needed to push because she was right there. I then proceeded to tell him I won't push until my sister was there, she wanted to watch her niece be born. At 9:05 he told me we can't wait anymore and right on cue my sister walked in. After three pushes and two minutes, which felt like seconds, my daughter was born. She was taken away from me because my bleeding wouldn't slow down and he just wanted to get to the next person waiting to have a baby. He stuck my legs three times with some type of shot, told me if it didn't stop he would have to take me to surgery to make sure I would be okay. He stole my ability to hold my baby after birth. She was perfect, all 8.7 pounds, 20 inches of her.

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About the Creator

Janetta Poitra

Send feedback and to find out more when I'm going to post visit my Facebook group

"Janetta's Vocal Group" or by this link: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1966381050271768/

or my twitter

https://twitter.com/xxxxxbattsxxxxx

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