I was never a big partier. All throughout high school, until my senior year, I hadn’t even tried alcohol. I saw all of my other classmates doing it but it never interested me all that much. But then I became a 12th grader and I had the best year of my life, especially the summer before leaving for college.
My two best friends were moving far away while I had decided to stay close to home, save some money, and go to community college for the first couple of years. It stunk knowing that the two people I’d spent most of my time with would now be miles and miles away but I also knew that all I wanted to do was make the most of my remaining time with them.
That was when I started drinking and partying the most. It was the best summer of my life (so far). And looking back, I’m so glad I made the most of it.
But then the leaves changed, the air got colder and it was time for them to leave for college. I was going through a break-up and I’m not going to lie, I felt alone. I’d Skype my two best friends almost everyday, but seeing them partying and having fun with the new friends they were making hit home. In a way, I resented my decision. I had wished I had gone off to a big school too.
But then I thought, “What good is it to mope around and wish for something when it’s too late for it to come true?” I knew that I could be just as happy as everyone else my age was. That’s when I decided to better my life. I started working out everyday, eating healthy, making new friends, getting myself out there, actually doing something for myself, not anyone else. I travelled, tried new things, made the most of every weekday and weekend.
And I loved every single minute of it.
But then: Fast forward a couple of years, yep, you guessed it, I had a little bun in the oven.
The pregnancy wasn’t easy, not simply because I was young and pregnant but because being pregnant… yeah, it’s really freakin’ hard. I was forced to grow up. I was forced to give up a lot of the things I’d like because, well, honestly? I didn’t feel like doing them. I didn’t feel like myself anymore. And that affected Sam and mine’s relationship. He was still the same person, still able to be young and himself for the 9 months I’d be growing our baby. The 9 months I’d sacrifice myself to someone I hadn’t even met. Seeing everyone my age partying, having fun, traveling, living their life to the fullest, while I was at home, crying (and I didn’t even know why?), probably eating ice cream? It sucked.
And sometimes, yeah, it still sucks. I don’t think I’m the same person I was before I had Finley. And I don’t think I ever will be. There’s never going to be another time where I’m my first priority. For the rest of my life, it’ll be him. But the funny thing is, even though thats hard? It’s something that I want to do. Something that I’ll never complain about or wish against. He makes me so happy. His smile melts my heart everytime I see it. His laugh makes me laugh. I can’t imagine him not being here. I can’t imagine life without him. And even though I’ve given up so much for him, I’ll always be grateful. He’s changed me into not only a different person, but a better one. I know what self-less love is.
So, for this type of transition, I don’t really think there’s anything someone can do to make it easier for themselves. Being pregnant and growing up sooner than you had planned, it’s going to be tough. But you just have to take my word that it’ll be worth it. And if you can’t do that, you’ll just have to wait and see the moment you pop out a baby of your own.
Plus! This is how I always think of it: when Finley turns 18 and is going off to college, Sam and I will still be young in our 30’s and able to make up for lost time in our 20’s! Whoop, whoop! (Unless we have s’moreeee babiessss down the road… that’s a whole other topic I’ll have to write about another time!)