Melinda was my first girlfriend, and I got her pregnant the night of our Junior Prom. It was a mistake, but not as bad as the mistake I made when I proposed to her after she told me the news. I was determined to "do the right thing," but I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
Melinda and I had a baby girl 9 months later, we named her Sarah. Melinda and I married as soon as we were 17 and we could wrangle parental consent, we were both seniors in high school at this point, and the period of my life to follow would prove to be the most grueling period of my life.
Melinda and I were both high-performing students, which meant we needed time to go to school, and time to study. We were married now, we felt the need to have our own place, so we needed jobs. On top of all this, we needed to take care of Sarah, and we needed to sleep. We ended up staggering our schedules so that one of us could work/ take care of Sarah/study, while the other slept. It was difficult, especially at first, but with lots of help from our parents we both managed to graduate highschool, and then complete four years of college.
So there we were, the Parson family, Husband, wife, and baby. Melinda and I were both 22, Sarah was 5. Our reward for our hard work was college degrees and a spouse that we barely knew because we had mostly been up when the other person was asleep. We told ourselves that we could put that time behind us, that now that we were out of school, everything would be easier. How wrong we were. Now we were seeking work in the professional world and our schedules were synced up again. We began trying to spend time together as a family, get jobs, and do the normal atomic family thing. This is when I first began to truly appreciate that I hated my wife Melinda.
I went to work as a Bookkeeper for a local utility company, work that I found soul-sucking and demeaning. Melinda found work as an assistant/secretary at a tech firm, which was a waste of her college degree. Neither of us were happy and we both tended to work long hours rather than race home and face each other.
When we were home together, we fought about everything. We fought about money, we fought about time, we fought about who had used the bread last. In the begging, we both wanted to make our relationship work because we thought it would be better for Sarah to have two parents and a "normal" family, but the longer we tried to force our marriage to work, the clearer it became that it was better for Sarah to not grow up in a war zone.
Our marriage was over in all but name when Melinda revealed that she was sleeping with someone from her office. I pushed for a divorce, because that seemed to be as good a reason for a divorce as any, but honestly by then I didn't really care that Melinda was cheating. I was sick of her, sick of the murderous grind my life had become, and sick of everything but Sarah. Melinda was a rabid bitch who poisoned everything around her and sucked joy from my life for fun, but I suppose I must have been at least as hurtful and spiteful as she was, even if I didn't remember it that way. It still hurt when she moved out, mostly because she took Sarah.
Eventually our divorce finalized. Melinda pushed for everything. She wanted Sarah, the savings, the wedding presents, alimony, the works. Melinda especially pushed for the house as it had originally been her grandmother's, but since she had cheated on me and I didn't push on anything else but the house and Sarah, she didn't really have much to stand on.
So I kept the house and got partial custody of Sarah, and was even able to avoid alimony. I go to see my daughter 14 weekends a year, plus a week near Christmas, and 6 weeks of Summer. My school debt had mostly been paid by my parents, so when we split and Melinda took her student loans with her, I actually made a little money, even though Melinda took our savings, just because I didn't have to pay that debt anymore.
There I was; a bachelor again at age 25. I was broke, but I was mostly clear of debt, and I sensed that this was going to be my one chance to change my life, so I took it.
I quit my job, sold almost everything I owned, took out a small business loan, and started my own bookkeeping firm. I have always been good with numbers and I am naturally likeable, so I ended up picking up clients fairly easily. The work came easy and I did pretty well for a small run-from-home business. Most importantly to my mental-health, I became my own boss, set my own hours, and was finally able to let go of a big part of my life's frustrations. I wasn't happy exactly, but I was free.
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So that is the story of how getting my girlfriend pregnant at 16 ruined my life, and how I got through it. Now let me tell you about how getting my girlfriend pregnant at 16 is the best thing I have ever done.
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My daughter's name is Sara, and she is AWSOME. She is smart, beautiful, playful, and has a heart full of love and joy. It has been my privilege to watch her grow and blossom.
As a baby, people would always tell us that Sarah should be in commercials. She smiled at everybody, barely ever cried. I swear even her diapers were cleaner than other kid's diapers. She was the best baby in the world.
As a toddler, she was even better. She picked up on "Sssh! Mommy is sleeping!" extremely quickly. Even at this young age, Sarah was inventive. She made toddler games genuinely fun to play, and her sense of wonder at each new thing was infectious. It helped that she was cute as a button. My heart ached every time she curled up with me as I read her those books with the cardboard pages.
As a young child, Sarah witnessed the end of her parent's marriage. She handled it well, but she had some understandable stress as a result of Melinda and I organizing our separation and dealing with having her parents around less as we worked on finding a schedule that would work. Melinda may be a psychotic, poisonous bitch, but she is a good mother, and both of us worked very hard to be amiable to each other in front of Sarah, and in regards to all things that directly affected her.
Nonetheless, in the early years before things got settled, I missed Sarah terribly when I had to be away from her, and during the times that she stayed with me, I shared her with her best friend Bree.
Melinda and Bree's mother met at a new parent class. It turned out that not only were our two families practically neighbors, but Sarah and Bree had been born on the same day in different hospitals. This coincidence was enough for Melinda and Bree's mother to strike up friendship, and it was only natural to set up play-dates between the girls.
From that point on, Sarah and Bree were inseparable. Even when Melinda and Bree's mother stopped being friends, the girls remained as close as sisters. When Melinda and Sarah moved out Bree was nearly as devastated as I was, and Sarah was probably more upset at not seeing Bree as often as she was upset about seeing me less often. When Sarah visited me, Sarah always pestered me and Bree always pestered her parents until they let her come and visit, and they threw fits when it was time for Bree to leave.
This went on long enough, and the girls were stubborn enough about maintaining their close relationship, that eventually it was just easier for Bree's parents and me to come to an agreement. When Sarah was at my house, Bree came along as well and they had sleep-overs. Even at that early age, Bree was the kind of girl who got what she wanted.
I suppose most parents would have minded the intrusion into their time with their daughter. I know Bree's parents were worried that she would outstay her welcome, but I didn't mind. Bree was a sweet kid when she got what she wanted, and any jealousy I might have felt towards Sarah's best friend taking up her time was quickly mitigated by the fact that Bree helped stabilize Sarah's world immensely during the turbulent period of divorce. My daughter's happiness and stability was worth far more than the inconvenience of watching two little girls instead of one.
