So let’s start from the beginning.
I like to describe my childhood as all rainbows and lollipops. I was blessed with two amazing parents who loved me and supported me in all that I did.
My dad worked nights, so I and my two sisters had our mom all to ourselves most evenings. I’m
I didn’t know at the time that my mom struggled to read. I didn’t know that she had attended “special” classes through most of her elementary years. All I knew as a child was that she loved to read and I loved to listen! Eventually, we graduated to chapter books and we would take turns reading with her. I excelled in school and attribute much of my success to those early years and our story times.
My dad worked two jobs to support us, one of which was building houses. He built every house I lived in as a child. I’m sure he wished many times that one of us girls could have been a boy, but he never made me feel that I couldn’t do anything I wanted to do. Many times I would go with my dad to his building projects and work alongside him hammering boards and yes, even putting shingles on a roof! I loved spending time with my dad. And looking back I realize much of my strength of character comes from the times I spent working with my dad.
Fast forward a few short years and I am the typical rebellious teen. Being the oldest child my parents were not quite prepared for the strong-willed teenager I had become. Let me stress here that my parents were far from being bad parents, I simply made bad choices. I own that fact. But if you ask my parents they will still to this day blame themselves for my choices.
And so…..deep breath here…..at the very young age of fourteen I found myself pregnant. My boyfriend Mike was 17.