Raw Warning
Okay, quick heads-up: this post is real, personal, and a little raw—it dives straight into the messy chaos of my teenage years. I’m not sharing this for pity, promise. I’m sharing it because maybe, just maybe, it can remind someone out there that your past doesn’t have to define your future. Let it shape you, teach you, and guide you into becoming the amazing, beautiful person you’re meant to be.
So, picture this: I grew up in a super strict household. Dresses were the daily uniform, haircuts were basically outlawed, and makeup? Forget about it. I was a good kid—I listened to my mom like she was the CEO of my life. Fast forward to when I turned 17… life threw me a curveball, and I ended up in foster care. I was this sheltered little bubble suddenly dropped into a house full of girls who were way too eager to “unshelter” me, each with their own set of wild behaviors. Let’s just say, it was… an adjustment.
My Time in Foster Care
When I first landed in foster care, I was just a sweet, shy, reserved girl—basically your textbook “good kid.” Then came the group home experience… imagine a place that’s kind of like a juvenile prison, but with more awkwardness and less actual crime. Our caregiver would pat us down every time we left the house and every time we came back, like we were sneaky secret agents—or, you know, hardened criminals. And don’t even get me started on the backpack searches. It was like our personal stuff was suddenly top-secret contraband.
If we had to use the bathroom 15 or 30 minutes after eating, I basically had two options: I could either sing my ABCs with the door shut… or let them watch me do my business. Yup, you read that right—the reason? To make sure I wasn’t secretly throwing up my lunch. I couldn’t wait to turn 18 and leave that whole “bathroom surveillance” chapter of my life far, far behind me.
By the time that day finally came, I was a completely different person than the shy, sweet girl who first stepped into the group home. I’d learned to stand up for myself, speak my mind, and, let’s be honest, give the occasional sarcastic eye-roll when needed. Trusting people? Still tricky—something I’m working on even now. That sheltered little girl was long gone, replaced by a teen who was equal parts fiery, determined, and desperate for a little taste of freedom.
Why Me
Just to be clear—I didn’t do anything wrong to end up in foster care. Didn’t deserve it either. I was just a regular, slightly confused teenage girl trying to survive each day in the group home. And by “survive,” I mean dodge the occasional drama, eye-rolls, and the occasional full-on bullying from the other girls—because, of course, what’s a group home without a little chaos?
I’d never really had to stand up for myself before, so I came up with a “brilliant” survival plan: keep my mouth shut and start counting down the days until I could finally get out of there for good. Honestly, I felt like an inmate—minus the orange jumpsuit, but with all the drama. My mind got a little dark, I was definitely angry and bitter at times, and, above all, I just felt really, really alone.
As I took some time to reflect on everything, I made a choice: I was going to focus on the positives as much as possible. Sure, this experience had left its mark emotionally, but I refused to let it take over my mind or my future. I decided to let this unexpected chapter become a life lesson instead. After all, no lesson is ever wasted—if you know how to look for the ways it can actually help you grow.
The Outcome
I thought turning 18 and reuniting with my family would magically make everything better. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. I was rebellious, angry, and still carrying a lot of bitterness from my time in foster care. On the outside, I looked calm—on the inside, I was basically a volcano ready to erupt. And if I’m being completely honest with myself, a big chunk of that anger was aimed right at my parents. But even through all that chaos, I started learning that acknowledging your feelings is the first step toward actually letting them go.
They expected me to act like I did before I went into the system. Like I should’t allow my time in foster care to change me. They wanted me to be that sweet teenager who listened blindly and never asked questions. That girl was gone. How could I be that sweet girl when in the group home I had to adapt to survive. Being sweet and shy made you look weak. You had to stand your ground, or the girls would take advantage any way they could.
How I Found I Was Pregnant
When I was 19 I met a man who I started dating. Little did I know he had a checkered past. About 5 months into our relationship, he got drunk and started boasting about beating his previous girlfriend. As soon as I heard that It woke me up, and I was trying to find a way to get out of the relationship.
He never hit me, but I wasn’t planning on sticking around to give him the chance. After 6 months of dating, I was at work, and I had severe sharp pain on the right side of my body. I thought my appendix was going to burst. So I did what any 20 year old did, I went to the E.R.. after thinking the worst and what seemed like forever.The doctor came in and said “well your appendix is fine.” I spoke up to say, “I don’t feel fine.” He smiled at me and said “well from what we can tell you are about 6 weeks pregnant. ” My heart felt like it had stopped! Pregnant?
I became pregnant with a man who was abusive. As the doctor was talking I got lost in the thought of how to end my relationship to protect my unborn child from possible abuse.
God must have heard my silent prayer because June 2007 is when I found out I was pregnant, and in October, he was arrested and sent to jail. That’s when I saw my chance, and I moved back home to prepare for the biggest journey of my life.
The Struggle
I struggled with the idea of being a mother. I didn’t think I had what I took to be a good mother. Could I protect my unborn child in ways I myself wasn’t protected from? I was a high school drop out, how would I support my baby. Then I came to the conclusion that it would be best for the baby to give my baby up for adoption.
When I was 5 months along, it was time to find out the gender. I remember when it came to having the ultrasound, I didn’t want to look at the monitor. I didn’t want to get attached. After all, I will be giving my baby up in 4 months. The technician asked if I wanted to know what the gender was. With my mother holding my hand, I reluctantly said yes. I was told it is a girl. I couldn’t help myself. I looked at the monitor to see the tiny fetus waving her hand at as if to say hi mom.
Acceptance
At that moment, I had a realization that this little girl never asked for any of this. She never asked to be given up for adoption up, because her mother didn’t have her live in order. That night alone in my room as I rubbed my pregnant belly, I remember praying to God.
” Lord, if I am meant to keep this child and raise her, I will need your help to provide for us. At 21, I gave birth to my beautiful baby girl. I decided to keep my little girl and raise her to be an independent thinker and confident, and most of all, I would teach her all about God. He has provided for not only me and the baby at that time but has continued to provide for us today. Today, I have 3 beautiful children and a husband who shows me he loves me every day.
What I Learned
For those that have made it this far in the post, thank you. I know this was a long post, but a backstory was needed for you to understand the full picture. I wanted to show how real and raw my past was.
I never wanted to be the girl who used my past as a crutch. Yes, I have gone through some things that I thought were unfair. I wanted to be a survivor. I wanted to see my past as a stepping stool to be mentally stronger, not a shell of a person.
We don’t have to allow our past to be the excuses we lean on to have a poor me attitude. Tomorrow is a new day. It’s never too late to work through our past to help our future
The choices we make are our own to make and we have to live with them. My actions are what led me to fall pregnant.
I would like my story and what happened to me to help someone. We all have a past, don’t like it be your doom let it be your stepping stone to learn from it. I hope you enjoyed this post. Until we meet again, have a blessed day.