Pregnancy, Birth and Beyond

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Fifteen, Pregnant and No Idea

Growing up without my Mum was difficult in many ways. I missed out on all those mother-daughter chats, even the one about the birds and the bees. I wasn’t aware of the consequences of having sex and I didn’t know the symptoms of pregnancy. I had no idea I was pregnant for quite a while.

By

Stacey Currie

Growing up without my Mum was difficult in many ways. I missed out on all those mother-daughter chats, even the one about the birds and the bees. I wasn’t aware of the consequences of having sex and I didn’t know the symptoms of pregnancy. I had no idea I was pregnant for quite a while.

Dad was standing in the kitchen showing me the hernia on his great big belly. I could see a sizeable lump and said ‘Yeah, I have one of those on my belly too Dad’. Dad thought I had better get it checked out, so as I was a very independent girl I took myself off to the doctors to ask them to help me with my hernia. Of course it turned out that my hernia was a baby; I was pregnant . I had no concept of what that would mean, so I just went home and gave the test results to Dad.

My boyfriend’s parents arranged a meeting with Dad to discuss our situation. However Dad had already decided that I would keep the baby and he would support me in raising the child. My boyfriend’s parents knew it was the wrong decision but they were powerless to stop us.

I had no-one to talk to about the pregnancy and didn’t have regular checkups with the doctor, so I just continued on as normal. I went to school, played on the slides and swings at the park, climbed trees and acted as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. I continued at school until two weeks before the baby was born and only finished then because it was the December school holidays.

One day I was out riding the trusty old bike that I had found on the rubbish. I was about eight and a half months pregnant, riding my little heart out. I came across my bo yfriend’s parents in their car and stopped to chat, asking if t hey knew where my boyfriend was. I look back now and wonder what would have been going through their heads, seeing me riding along heavily pregnant without a care in the world. I eventually found my boyfriend at our hide out up in the tree house, so I hopped off my bike and scrambled right up there with him.

Right at the end of the pregnancy, my friends and I were walking through a shopping centre car park. I decided it would be funny to do a football leap onto the back of one of the girls. Little did I realise my friend could see my reflection in the shop window. She ducked when she saw what I was up to, and I went flying over the top of her and fell on the concrete, straight onto my heavily pregnant stomach. People came running from all over to help, but I just got up and acted like nothing had happened.

I suppose I didn’t really comprehend what was happening to me.

My First Baby Arrives

I felt like my pregnanc y was going on forever. I was so big but didn’t feel too uncomfortable, even though I was days overdue. I was still very fit and was so desperate to have the baby that I organised a group of my friends to come jogging with me to bring the labour on.

The labour and birth are as clear in my memory as if they were yesterday. My boyfriend and my brother were hanging out in the shed with their friends while I was inside, playing the Nintendo 64. We went to bed at around 11pm and just as I was climbing into the bed I felt warm water trickle down my legs. I said to my boyfriend ‘I think I’m in labour, I can feel water running down my legs’, to which he replied ‘You’ve probably just wet yourself’ and fell asleep.

Dad was in the lounge room watching TV so I went out to him and told him what was happening. He said ‘Hell, let’s go to the hospital’. I grabbed towels and put them between my legs, then ma de my boyfriend get up.

Dad had borrowed a car from his b rother so my boyfriend, Dad, brother, stepmum and I started off to the hospital before Dad realised there was no petrol. While we waited at the petrol station we all bickered about who would be coming in to the birthing room with me. I was quite adamant that I didn’t want my Dad or stepmum in the birthing room, which created an argument.

We eventually arrived at the hospital where I was put into a wheelchair and my brother wheeled me inside. I told my Dad, stepmum and brother to wait outside while I went into the birthing room with my boyfriend.

I tried to relax in the bath but all I felt like doing was vomiting. The back pain was getting really bad, so the nurses propped me up on the bed. I started screaming for my Dad and the nurses bought him, my stepmum and brother into the room. The nurse said that it was time for the baby to come so I needed to take my pants off. I refused. Of course they couldn’t let me keep my pants on, so I made ev eryone leave the room while I removed them.

Everybody came back in as the baby started to come. I was screaming so loud that even the lady who shared my hospital room could hear me from the other end of the hospital. When the baby was born my boyfriend cut the cord and then the baby was given to my Dad. I don’t know why Dad was handed the baby instead of me, but soon I had my chance to cuddle Josh for the first time.

At the beginning I don’t remember feeling anything other than shock that I had a baby to look after. By day two of my hospital stay I was feeling lonely and scared. I walked around the hospital crying, not knowing what to do. I rang Dad from a pay phone sobbing, asking him to come and stay with me. My stepmum came and stayed with me for two nights. She didn’t like me and I didn’t like her, so when Dad made her stay with me at the hospital I didn’t want her there, I wanted my Dad. Josh’s birth was a turni ng point for us though and now I realise how much support she gave me through that time.

I left the hospital on Christmas morning and stopped off at a few friends’ houses to show my baby off. Once home the challenge began; I had to learn how to bath and feed the baby.

Hello my name is Stacey Currie and according to the usual script, I should be living on the streets, in jail, on drugs or dead. I tick all the boxes when it comes to risk factors, having experienced no mum throughout my life, bought up in housing commission, child sexual abuse, 15 and pregnant, 19 with 2 babies and homeless, 21 with 3 kids and living in a domestic violent relationship.

But remarkably I managed to defy the odds in a spectacular way, through following my passion.

Old Life

New Life