My whole life, as far back as I can remember, my parents have never shown me much love nor have they cared much about me. I grew up with 3 brothers who were the ones my parents really loved. Two were older; one was about 5 years younger.

I can still remember the times my parents told me how stupid I was and how much of a bad decision they had made in having me. I felt pretty worthless. They also had quite a temper and could explode over nothing at times, hitting me. And the rest of the time, they just brushed everything passed as if they didn’t care one bit. My parents also drank and smoked a lot. By noon, my mom would be drunk and as soon as my dad came home from work, he would be the same. I was embarrassed by them and ashamed so I tried to spend as much time away from the house as I could.

They didn’t care much about what I did either. As long as I didn’t bother them, it simply didn’t bother them.

When I was 11, I started hanging out with the “wrong crowd,” a bunch of kids all older then me from my neighborhood. By the time I was 12, I was drinking and smoking. By 13, I dropped out of school, not that I had been going there much in the past year. When I told my parents my decision to “quit” school, they laughed and said “so what?” After all according to them, I was too stupid anyway I might as well leave.

I had sex for the first time when I was only 13 with a guy who was 19. All I can remember is getting very drunk and him taking me back to his flat. Everything else is blurry except waking up in the bed next to him the morning after. When I went home, my parents hadn’t even noticed the fact I wasn’t there so that’s when I started sleeping around and staying at his house all the time.

I found out he had slept with 2 other girls (and that’s the ones I know of!!) while he was with me. To get back at him, I stupidly slept with two other guys I pretty much didn’t know, thinking it would make me feel better somehow but it didn’t. After that, I broke up with him.

Soon after, a very close friend of mine asked me out. He was cute, funny, and kind so of course I said yes. Two months into us dating, I fell pregnant but it wasn’t another two months before I realized or allowed myself to realize.

When I told him that a baby was growing inside me, not just any baby, his baby I expected him to run away, to turn his back on me. But to my surprise, he was scared but also excited. Scared since I was only 14 1/2 and he was not quite 17 yet and excited because of this huge adventure ahead of us.

We told his parents first, who said they would support us whatever decision we made and who couldn’t have been nicer about the whole situation. By the time I was 4 months pregnant, I couldn’t hide it much longer so I decided to tell my parents.

My parents rambled on about how it was all my fault and if I hadn’t been so stupid, then it wouldn’t have happened. They also told me I better get rid of “it” because “it” would not be allowed under their roof.

When his parents heard what my parents had said, they straight away told me there was always room in their house for me, no matter what. This baby was going to be their grand-child and they would do whatever it took to ensure it grew up happy.

Within a month, I had moved out of my house and into his place. I have to say it was the best decision of my life, ever. Since day one, his parents have treated me as their own daughter. They are always there for me when ever I need them.

At 15 years old, I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Noah. Together, we have been able to, although at times bumpily, take care of “our” son together to the best of our abilities.

Its been a tough 9 months (that’s how old Noah is!!) but worth every second.