Rhizomania

Tests. Quizzes. Homework. College. GPA. Study.

Study...dance. Extra-curriculars. Honor societies. Baking. Work.

Work...the kids. "Don't kill each other." "Be nice to him!" "Can we go outside?"

Hm outside...the breeze. The cool sunset air on my face. Achu scaring the birds away. The baby in my arms and I rock him to sleep on the swing in this beautiful weather.

The baby...my baby. He isn't mine, I mean it in a future tense. My calling. The only part of life I want and crave. The only thing that, if lacking over time, would be the death of me. Literally.

I spend so much time thinking about the now, of short term goals that reflect my conforming to society's idea of normal.

Society rips apart teenage girls getting pregnant. "Should've had birth control pills." "Should've used a condom." "Should've kept your legs crossed." And when these girls try to succeed after dealing with their life-given lemons, we push them headfirst into a rose bed's thorns.

Why can't we help them? Why can't we do for them what we do for "accepted ages" of mothers? So these teens are stressed out from motherhood. So are plenty of new moms of all ages. So they make mistakes. Everyone makes mistakes. So they don't immediately adjust to motherhood. I've never seen one new mom adjust immediately. But to repay them for choosing life, and for owning up to what they've done, we make their multitude of jobs exponentially harder.

If I end up a teen mom, I'd hope the people I know would be more understanding. I'd hope they wouldn't shun me and force me into isolation. I'd hope that my family would be supportive and happy, even, instead of never letting me live it down. Because quite frankly, I'd rather be a mom now and know I can be one than wait it out and discover I am never going to have a baby.

Of course, every situation varies. I know what I want. I know that I don't care, in the true long run, about school or a "good job." And I really don't care about the looks I'd get, or the questioning, or the probable struggle of getting some kind of mainstream education. The only thing that matters to me, if this ends up happening, is that baby, the perfect miracle who would make me who I know I really am.

So far, so negative. And I don't know which result would be best for everyone involved, because I tend to forget the other person, my partner, in the situation. But honestly, I don't care if he stays or leaves, because that's on him. His decision.

Back to me. Back to this. Back to the future.

The future...it all comes back around in rhizomania.