When my parents first got together, my mom was fifteen and my dad had just turned eighteen. My mother became pregnant as a result of their love since they were in love. When she was already in her fourth month of pregnancy, she learned about it. It may not have been typical practice back then to keep track of one’s menstrual cycle’s regularity. Consequently, my mother didn’t find out she was pregnant until she was in the ninth grade, during a doctor’s appointment.
She obviously wasn’t expecting this and wasn’t ready for it. As you may guess, society at the time was more critical of early pregnancies. This occurred in 1995. My mother, though, had the courage to inform my father.
I’m not sure how my father responded specifically, but I was the result. Even though he was only 18 at the time, my father didn’t panic or avoid responsibility. My dad obtained employment, and they began residing with my mom’s parents.
The only thing I lament is that they weren’t able to attend college. My mom was 18 when I entered preschool, and they got married when I was in elementary school. My parents raised me in a cheerful environment despite the fact that they were inexperienced and encountered challenges. I never witnessed them clash. I got along well with all of my grandparents and frequently visited them. My mother and I began disclosing all of our female secrets when I became 15 years old.
We had a close friendship. She was aware of my first love and my setbacks and she offered me wise counsel. I went to medical school after high school and am still enrolled. I’m not yet married, and I don’t have kids. My parents are still together now and genuinely love one another. My parents have my life, given me a good upbringing, and given me the lovely memories I have. I love them dearly, I’m proud of them, and I’m thankful for them.
