“People Will Call Me A Monster. I Don’t Care”: People Are Getting Brutally Honest About Whether Or Not They Regret Their Decision To Have (Or Not Have) Children

17.

“People will call me a monster. I don’t care. Few people in the world will choose to tell the truth about themselves when it isn’t pretty. I got pregnant during my first semester of college. To make a long story short, I went a little crazy once I turned 18. I wasn’t doing anything too out of the ordinary, but being practically on house arrest my entire time at home with my parents as a teen had made me a little too eager to go out and get my place, and then, of course, start having loads of sex. Naturally, this led to pregnancy…”

“… I had no intention of getting pregnant (laughable, given that I also had no intention of protecting myself against the pregnancy…), but I knew in the back of my head that if I did, I could ‘take care of myself.’ I had a good job and benefits, went to school, was responsible for the most part, etc. I remember staring at the stick when I got the result. I didn’t cry. I just thought, “Welp… I guess I’m having a baby.”

Despite my neutral reaction, I was unhappy about the whole thing. I instantly left her father; he wasn’t father material. I told myself I’d rather struggle alone than bring up a child around someone with so many problems. Despite my concern for my unborn child’s mental health, I was not entirely without my selfishness. This is where I say, ‘I was a monster’ because, in all honesty, I had desperately hoped the pregnancy would terminate itself. I’d announce it to people on a need-to-know basis. They’d congratulate me and smile brightly, excited for me. I’d politely smile back, but in the back of my head, I resented them for being happy. I knew being a young single mother was not as simple as movies and books make it out to be. I knew I was putting myself and my child at a major disadvantage for having her at my age. 

I was a very religious girl back then (irony much?!), so somehow, the thought of wishing ‘non-existence’ upon my unborn child was less offensive than having an abortion, and I certainly couldn’t walk around my entire life knowing someone was out there taking care of MY offspring if I chose adoption. I didn’t want a child. I knew I wasn’t ready. But I also knew I was a good person, and I didn’t want to forget the responsibility. I had been stupid, I knew, but I was also totally ready to pay the price. 

Mostly, admittedly, because I didn’t know what the price was. So, for eight months, I prayed for a miscarriage. In the last month of pregnancy, my motherly instincts (biological or otherwise, who knows) finally kicked in. All of a sudden, I was TERRIFIED of losing my baby. Fast forward to today: my daughter is eight. I never resented her for coming along when I didn’t plan it. I never was cruel to her because I was just “too young and immature” to deal with her. She has been a difficult child (delayed in speech and, therefore, behaviorally delayed as well). 

Still, it is a plight that is my own and a rite of passage for every mother: Your biggest challenge is almost always the same object responsible for creating your greatest strengths. As cliche as it sounds, she is the best thing that ever happened to me. I won’t say I can’t imagine my life without her. Surely, I can. But it’s not an image with more happiness, and it’s certainly not one I care to linger on for more than a moment. So, thank you to my little Aubrey-bear for being the most amazing catalyst of my life. And also for giving me the blessing of true love. They say you owe your life to your mother, but I owe MY life to my daughter.”

—Amanda B.