29-Year-Old Teen Mom

Growing up, I remember at 14 years old, sitting on the floor of my bedroom watching 16 and Pregnant on MTV (back when TV was really good). I knew my mom had me young, and watching those stories unfold on screen sparked something in me—a moment of reflection. I started wondering what my mom might’ve gone through, how scared she must have been, and how hard she must’ve worked to at least retain some sort of being a kid still.

Even then, I was terrified of going through the same thing. And if you know anything about being the first-born eldest daughter, then you know—you basically become the third parent in the house. That role shaped so much of how I saw motherhood and responsibility. It made me promise myself that I would wait. That I’d have the house, the husband, the stable life first, before bringing a child into the world.

I didn’t want my future children to feel the way I did in that moment—overwhelmed, lost, carrying emotional weight they didn’t ask for. I wanted them to feel planned for, prepared for, wanted in every sense.

But here I am, 29 years old, facing a plot twist I didn’t see coming—and suddenly, I feel like that 14 year old again.

Sharing the News

Once I started to come to terms with the five positive pregnancy tests staring back at me, I opened my NYU Langone Health app and scheduled an appointment with my NP for a blood test. I needed to confirm everything—and more importantly, figure out how far along I actually was.

As I filled out the online scheduling form, a wave of realization hit me:

OMG. I have to tell my mom.

I began pacing through my one-bedroom apartment, my dog trailing me back and forth, clearly picking up on my stress. I started running through the possibilities in my head—Should I tell her first? Or maybe my best friends? How do you even start a conversation like that?

Next thing I knew,  I had already opened the Uber app and ordered a ride.

I was going to tell my mom.

Nosiness runs deep in my family, and my little sister overheard that I was making my way over when I called my mom to make sure she was home. I texted her and asked her to meet me at the corner store about a block and a half from the house. I needed a buffer, someone who could ground me before I walked through that door and dropped a bomb I knew none of us were expecting.

My heart raced the entire ride. There's something so surreal about being on the verge of delivering life-changing news—and having no idea how the other person will react.

You Jacking It?” — A Moment Between Sisters

I got out of the Uber, heart pounding, and started walking down the block with my sister. I could barely keep my thoughts straight — my mind was racing, my heart was in my throat. The world around me seemed to disappear, but the weight of my words felt louder than anything.

“I’m pregnant,” I said.

She stopped in her tracks. Jaw dropped. Pure shock flashed across her face for a second — and then came the excitement. That sparkle in her eye — the one that had been there for years, every time she joked, “When you gonna have a baby?” — it was back. And that smirk? The same one she wore every time she was about to say something unserious, something only a sister could get away with.

“You jacking it?”

I squinted at her, "What?".

She rolled her eyes and translated in proper English, “You keeping it?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

I didn’t stutter. I didn’t second guess myself. The answer was always yes. It was never about the baby — I knew I was going to have this baby. The real fear? The one I couldn’t say out loud yet?

It was losing me. It was feeling like that scared 14-year-old watching 16 & Pregnant, thinking: that would never happened to.

And here I was, letting the child in me deal with grown up decisions. It didn't happen to me!

I'm older and wise, and feeling scared is a natural reaction to something your not prepared for. It's okay to fear the responsibility and what it might take away—my identity, my youth, my passion, and even my body, especially since I've been so consistent lately.

But I digress..

Who would I be on the other side of this journey? Would I still recognize myself?

People talk about the glow (which is actually just sweat — foreshadowing, sorry). They talk about the baby kicks and the tiny onesies. — but they don’t talk enough about the internal shift. About how becoming a mother doesn’t start in the delivery room — it starts in those quiet, terrifying moments where you realize everything is about to change, and somehow… you’re still saying yes.