Pregnant and Not Sixteen

By Savannah Drake

It all started about seven months ago.  Hurricane Ike hit pretty hard, leaving us without electricity and more importantly, without anything to do for almost three weeks.  Times were tough and my husband and I were forced to entertain each other.  As Forrest Gump would say “that’s all I have to say about that.”
Fast forward to a month and a half later and you can hear the phrase, “Hey babe, I think I’m pregnant,” coming out of my mouth.  After the initial shock we became super excited about our new family unit.  I took it as a personal opportunity to demonstrate to everyone that I had indeed grown up and was ready to become, not only a parent, but an adult in general.
Even at the age of 23, I felt like I was still being looked at and treated as a child.  Now my 4’11” frame, freckles and hair ribbon may not have helped my cause, but things were going to change because I was going to become a mother.
We decided to go to Arkansas to spread the news to my husband’s family.  Everyone was so excited and happy to hear of our announcement that my mother-in-law personally took my sister-in-law and I to celebrate.  We pulled up to Chili’s restaurant and as I got out of the car, I  began to feel that pregnancy glow everyone talks about.  
We walked to our table and I could feel my radiance lighting up the room.  We sat down and the waitress began handing out our menus.  She then placed a child’s menu and crayons in front of me. Seriously.  My pink pregnancy glow suddenly turned green with disgust and embarrassment; well, actually I turned green because I needed to vomit, but you get the idea.
A few weeks later I was once again mistaken for an underage teen.  I ran to the convenience store to get a lighter for some birthday candles we needed right away.  I grabbed the first lighter I saw and waited in line.  I smiled at the cashier who looked at me funny and said “I.D?”  I stared at her in shock as she continued, “You need to be at least 18 to buy a lighter here.”  I was so upset that I just walked out of the store.  As I drove home I came to the conclusion that in a few months I was going to look like a pregnant teen, a statistic.  
I know it sounds stupid, but for some reason it really bothered me.  I vowed never to put another ribbon in my hair ever again and to start dressing more like an adult.  When I finally decided to share my feelings, I called my mother.  After she stopped laughing, she gave me some good advice.  She first asked if I was happy with my situation.  “Of course I am,” I responded promptly.  “Well then, that’s all that matters,” she told me.
I know it’s pretty simple advice, but it always sounds so much better coming from your mother.  Anyway, that’s when I realized how lucky I was to be in my situation in the first place.  I was so happy about being a mommy that letting stupid stuff bother me was ridiculous.  
Now that people can tell I have a bun in the oven, I get comments all the time.  The most common are “Oh, but you’re so little,” and “It’s even harder when you’re younger,” but I shake it off.  I just needed a reminder on how not to care what other people think and just do what you do.  I guess that advice can work in regard to anything concerning life.  Things are going to happen; you just have to deal and make do with what you have or, you can look at it like Juno, “I’m already pregnant so what other kind of shenanigans can I get into?”