More
teenagers are quitting school to get married every day,
and it usually leads to disaster and pain for everyone concerned.
I guess my best example of what can happen would be what
happened to me. Telling this story offends my pride a little,
but if it makes one teenager reconsider rushing into marriage
too soon, it will be worth my bruised ego.
I quit
school and got married just four days after my 17th birthday.
Charles, the boy I married was only 19. My father had recently
died, and I felt lost without him. Maybe none of this would
ever have happened if I had waited until my mind was a little
clearer to answer Charles' proposal. At any rate, we got
married and set up house together.
At first
everything was perfect. We didn't have any major bills and
our house came along with his job. It looked like we had
it made. Then, I got pregnant. After that, things started
to slide downhill fast. The closer it came to my due date,
the more sullen and close-mouthed Charles got. Suddenly,
nothing I did was right. I kept telling myself that he was
just nervous about becoming a new father; he'd feel better
once the baby was actually here.
I couldn't
have been more wrong. Every time the baby needed something,
Charles acted like it was an unnecessary extravagance. But
if he wanted money for something, I'd better keep my mouth
shut and not fuss about it.
I couldn't
cater immediately to his needs anymore; everything had to
work around the baby's schedule. It made him furious, that
I couldn't drop everything and come the instant he called.
I was amazed that he seemed to see the baby as a threat
to him. He didn't see why things couldn't be like they were
before.
Charles
had always been a restless person, but now it was ten times
worse. The baby was only six months old when Charles told
me he wanted a divorce. He said he couldn't cope with the
responsibilities of fatherhood; that he was too young to
be tied down to a wife and a baby. I guess I can't lay all
of the blame on him though; neither one of us was really
prepared for the reality of marriage. We had just been playing
house. When the going got rough, everything fell apart,
and we separated.
Three
weeks later, I found out I was pregnant again. There was
a lot of pressure from my husband's parents and my mother
for us to stay together at least until the baby was born.
We gave in and he came home. It didn't last a month. We
fought over everything because we both felt trapped.
On Christmas
Eve 1976, at the ripe old age of 20, I was on my own with
a seven-month-old baby, and was four months pregnant.
I can't
even describe all of the things that were going through
my mind the night he left me. The only thing I remember
clearly is sitting beside the bathtub with a shiny new razor
blade in my hand. My mind was made up. I was going to make
Charles sorry for leaving me. Just then, the baby woke up
and cried out. The sound seemed to echo in my head.
Dear
God! I was about to abandon my baby the way Charles had
abandoned me. I think that's when I really started to grow
up. I knew that I couldn't take the easy way out. I had
to think about Chris (my son) and the baby I was carrying.
I moved
into a small trailer about 5 miles away from my mother and
started to look for work. I couldn't find a job anywhere.
I was pregnant and had no job skills. No one was going to
hire me. People kept telling me to go see the Welfare people
and get some help, but I kept putting it off because of
my pride.
After
about three weeks all of my cash was gone. I needed groceries
and rent money. I finally broke down and went on Welfare.
I decided my pride wasn't as important as food in my baby's
mouth and a roof over our heads. I couldn't go back to school
right then, because I couldn't afford a sitter for Chris.
I just sat at home and felt more and more depressed and
hopeless every day.
I didn't
get out much. I avoided the friends I had made in high school
because I was afraid to talk to them. The first questions
they always asked were "Where's your husband?"
and "What are you doing now?" I didn't want to
say that my husband had left me, and I was living on Welfare
because I couldn't support myself and my kids. Everything
was ruined. I felt like a failure as a mother because I
couldn't make a living for my son and myself. I couldn't
get him all the things I felt he deserved: I felt like a
failure as a wife, because I couldn't hold on to my husband.
He was so dissatisfied with me that he went looking for
someone else. Ironically enough, he did find someone he
liked better. She got pregnant almost immediately.
On June
24, 1977, I gave birth to a baby girl: Just a few months
later, on December 24, 1977, she gave birth to twin boys.
I felt like that was Charles' just reward for all the remarks
he had made to me about fatherhood.
Six
months later, with a lot of love from my mother, and help
from a good counselor, I found a free day care center for
single parents and went back to school. I got my high school
diploma in 1978 and went on to take bookkeeping classes
at a local vocational school. In October of 1980, I finally
found a job and started down the long road to rebuilding
my self-esteem. I began to feel like a worthwhile person
again.
Now
at 33, I am finally getting the college education I should
have gotten 15 years ago.
My children
can't get back what they lost. They haven't seen their father
in four years. He has made no effort to contact them, even
though he only lives 30 miles away.
Please,
think hard and long before you jump into marriage, no matter
how much you're in love. Sometimes love just isn't enough.
