She was using drugs. Now she’s using her head.

I found out I was pregnant one month after I graduated eighth grade. I was fourteen. I used to have dreams of becoming a doctor, of traveling around the world. After one night of partying, that all changed, and suddenly I couldn’t even imagine finishing high school.

I quit drinking, quit drugs, and by my ninth week I knew I was going to keep my baby. And I was one of the lucky ones—my parents didn’t abandon me. Unfortunately, the rest of my family wasn’t so understanding. My aunts and uncles, my grandparents—all of them treated me like trash. It was a small town. I couldn’t go to the store without being called some terrible name. It didn’t just offend me; it terrified me. And we all knew I had to leave.

My dad heard about Mountain Home, and when we visited, I couldn’t believe it. Six teens living in a house, struggling together to achieve the same thing: to take responsibility for what they had done and prove that a teen can be a good parent too.

A lot of places teach you how to breathe while you’re giving birth. But Mountain Home taught me how to breathe through life after labor. Before, I had no self-worth, and my baby probably wouldn’t have lived. But with encouragement, I changed. I went to school and parenting classes; I learned how to be self-sufficient so I could raise a healthy baby.

And now, when I look at my daughter, I see a symbol of hope for the future.

 

NOTE: All photos, names, and story details have been changed to protect the identities of our moms and their kids.