Every action has either a consequence or a reward. This is something that I was taught at a young age. Unfortunately, I usually chose to walk the path that led to a difficult or negative outcome. I rarely chose to do something that was rewarding or fulfilling.
My parents worked hard to provide “a better life than they had” for me and my siblings. My mom stayed home to care for the house and the kids, while my dad worked two to three jobs to attain the goals he had in mind for us all. I was raised as a Christian and gave my life to Jesus at a young age in Sunday School. Everything seemed perfect from the outside looking in. My parents liked it that way. Mom was always worried about “Que va decir la gente?!” What are people going to say?! And not as highly concerned with how we were doing. We had a roof over our heads, food on the table, and warm beds to sleep in. We had nothing to complain about we were always told.
Except I did.
I was always grounded for not meeting the high standards that were placed upon me and was hardly shown grace and affection, even when I chose to do good. I grew tired of never meeting their expectations. I felt like a failure. The yoke was too heavy for me to bear. I arrived at a point in my young life where I stopped wanting to do good and instead chose to do bad one way or another. I developed a “well I’m going to be in trouble anyway, so I’ll make the most of it” attitude and decided to do what I wanted and suffer the consequences of my choices later. I grew desensitized to my mother’s rebuke and correction and resented my father for his stern disposition and not being present. That only pushed me further down the sinful road I was running on. When I was fifteen, I crossed paths with a young cholo (thug) that was also traveling down the same road carrying his own load. We began to date, and after some months, I ran off with him and became pregnant.
I found out I was pregnant while I was living with my boyfriend’s mom. He was in juvenile hall at the time. I felt alone, scared, worried, and unfit. So many thoughts raced through my mind as I sat on the fuzzy covered toilet lid holding this test that changed my life in an instant. How can I be a mom when I can barely take care of myself? What if I ruin this baby’s life? What if her dad doesn’t want to be with me anymore? What will my parents think? What will my parents do? What if my parents want me to abort my baby?
My baby!?
This is my baby!!!
As I repeated these words in my mind, tears washed over my cheeks, and worry and fear filled my heart. I realized that once again I chose to walk a difficult path. Yes, the path would be difficult, but the reward was going to be a fulfilling one. I began to dwell on what my baby’s future would look like if I continued on the path I had been on. All I saw was hurt, pain, and destruction. It was at this time that the Holy Spirit prompted me to make a choice. Are you going to raise this baby in the world, or are you going to raise this baby in the Word of God? Up to this point, I had turned my back on God. His Word had been hidden in my heart since I was a young girl, and it bubbled into my mind when I needed it the most. I cried out to God and asked Him to forgive me and to help me because I couldn’t do this -raise a baby- on my own. I rededicated my life to Him at that very moment.
Now, you’re probably thinking that life was great after this. It wasn’t. There was still a lot of difficulty ahead. Two months into my pregnancy my boyfriend came out of juvie and was by my side. He wanted to be in my life and our baby’s life. He wanted to do better and be a good father to our baby. But wanting to be and being are not the same thing. He continued to party and live the life he was living before he went to lock up. I was young, pregnant, and lonely. This went on for months. We argued A LOT. I would threaten to leave him then he would convince me to stay with the promise that he would change. It was a vicious cycle. One that I so desperately desired to break free from. I didn’t know what to do except pray. So I did. After some months, I started to talk to him about God. I loved him and wanted badly for him to change because I knew that if he didn’t my baby was going to join the suffering that came with the life he was living.
A few months after my sixteenth birthday in 2003, I gave birth to our daughter. My labor was hard, but my baby girl was perfect. Hearing her cry for the first time and holding her tightly on my chest was magical. I was excited, joyous, and in love. I loved her while she was in my womb, but that love exploded when I held her in my arms for the first time. It was a love I had never experienced before. With that love came a desire to do better. To be better. All the difficulty I endured was worth the reward that she was and continues to be in my life.
Shortly after our daughter was born, her dad gave his life to Jesus. He struggled with leaving his old ways in the past, but after some time, God took care of that as He does when we surrender to Him. He worked hard to provide for me and our daughter and was intentional about caring, raising, leading, and protecting us.
The first few months of life as a teen mom were hard. Up to this point in my life, I had only cared about myself. I woke up when I wanted and went to bed when I wanted. I was pretty irresponsible. Now I was on my baby’s time frame not my own. She NEEDED me. I had yet another choice to make. I was either going to be there and try my best to be a good mother or I was going to fail my baby girl.
It took me some time to adjust to her schedule, but I didn’t give up. I continued to try. It’s funny. Every time I felt like I had it down, she would start developing a new ability, and I had to learn to adjust all over again. I don’t think that ever stops. Your responsibility and relationship continue to evolve and develops into something different but all the more beautiful as the time goes by.
As she grew older, I continued to lean on God to teach me to be a mother to my child. I buried my face in The Bible and tried my hardest to do things His way and not my own. The hard things didn’t seem so hard with His guidance and help. The byproduct was a blessing.
My baby girl is no longer a baby. She’s a young lady, 19. She loves Jesus and seeks to be pleasing to Him. That fills my heart with an overflowing joy. The path I chose was a hard one, but one that I would choose every time. I have learned so much through being her mother. She has taught me more than I could ever teach her. My reward has been being able to raise her, nurture her, care for her, comfort her, teach her, guide her, watch her grow, help her achieve, and love her through it all. I am so proud of who she is and who she is becoming. She has broken so many stereotypes and has quieted those who waited for her father and me to fail. She is bold, brave, smart, confident, loyal, calm, cool, and collected. Her beauty is not just outward but also inward. She is a precious diamond that God has given me. I have loved and cared for her as such and will continue to labor on as long as there’s breath in my lungs. She has changed my life for the better, and I only hope that I can be around to continue to see her shine. Life is precious. We don’t know the impact one person, no matter how small, will have in our lives. So chose life. Chose the hard thing. Lean on Jesus, and flourish.
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