It was the first time in my life to find out I was expecting a baby. At first, the thought of a growing little person that my significant other and I created on our own seemed to overjoy us, despite how young we were when we found out the news. Nothing else seemed to matter more than we were going to start a little family of our own and truthfully I couldn’t have been happier. As time went on I knew little about the whirlwind of emotions that could strike such deep depression that later would cause problems with my child.
I always had a knack for over analyzing every situation that ever occurred around me and more so than ever once I found out I was pregnant. I also took great consideration into what my dad had to say about anything when it comes to my life, as I always looked at it as constructive criticism. After all, he want what is best for his baby girl. Not to mention he himself tends to usually be right when it comes to thinking rationally. After a couple weeks of contemplating on how and when to tell my dad the news of being pregnant, I nervously just told him one day after he arrived home from work. His facial expression said all I needed to know before he went into a long rant of how he doesn’t understand how I plan to financially plan to take care of the needs of this child. Meaning as though my boyfriend and I were living in his house, all I could think to myself is, “he’s right…” The sudden overwhelming feeling of uncertainty set in my brain like a ship sinking in the open ocean. I quietly went upstairs to my room and moped around the house crying for two days because my father didn’t approve of the situation whatsoever.
The more I thought about my dad I said, the more I felt like I was at my wits end, but in all actuality it was something that needed to be thought about. I confided in my boyfriend, Dennis, of all the thoughts I pondered in my mind. I remember vividly saying to him, “neither of us are working and we don’t even have our...