Teenage Mothers Stories Novels & Stories

He nodded, But I could see it far in his eyes, so I kissed him, "Who lost her baby, what did you witness?" "My mom, I was twelve. She and my father had finished insulting each other, and then she started to throw tantrums; she was not looking, and she hit her stomach on the chair. Then she started to shout and I came in and started shouting too, because she was losing blood, before my father came and took her to the hospital, she had lost the child, and she never became pregnant again till she died." All the stories I heard about his mom and dad were all sad and soul-crushing; he must have had a shitty childhood. For me, Although my grandma was not rich, my childhood was fun and eventful; my

My mother had had me when she was eighteen—a single mom who had faced countless struggles because she had a child so young. I know that for most of my life, I've had the financial backing of my father's family, but those early years of poverty, hunger, and loneliness were memories that hadn't faded. Above all, I had never forgotten what my mom had sacrificed for me, what she had given up by having me at that age. I had stolen her youth and her freedom, and the thought of ending up in her shoes one day terrified me.

People always sympathized with pitiful stories. The motherly one began to share her story. "I’m here because I sacrificed everything for my kids. But that useless husband of mine took them away from me because he found himself a mistress. I haven’t seen them in two years. I fought, I did everything, but in the end, I fucking killed him.” My heart ached for her. My baby was still in my womb, but I will do the same for it. “Where are the kids now?” I asked softly. She said you were with her mom.

Tony Hearing my mate's story has left me sad, mad and just plain angry. Yes, both Nick and I were in one of those camps and experienced our own kind of horror but what the women go through... Fuck! We thought we knew what they went through but it's so much worse. My mate, my beautiful mate was forced to have two children before she was even 18 and then when she refused to join their group although I'd say it's more of a cult, they took away her children and tried to kill her.

"I was young… naive… and desperately poor. When Harold—the love of my life, my one chance at a decent future—left me because his parents disapproved… I thought my world had ended. I’d just found out I was pregnant." I clenched my jaw, picturing her not as she was now, but as a younger woman—my exact face in different clothes. "When I told my mother about the pregnancy," she continued, voice trembling, "she threw me out. She said, ‘We don’t want bastards in this family.’ She gave me nothing—no clothes, no food—just the street."

“Yeah I know. But I have already built an emotional connection with the kids here friend. I have this one student, very smart but home is just bad. Her father was a drunkard though now he’s changed and while he was parading drunk, the mother sold her off to men for money. She used to make her daughter sleep with different man for $200 or less.” “What?” “Yeah. She got pregnant and tried to hang herself. We saved her, this time poor thing just took battery acid and drank it.” “Are you serious?” “Mhhhm, she was transferred to Rivercity but now she is being transferred to Sir Masire.” “My God..” “Its just a sad situation and she has 5 siblings. Another on the way.” “You mean aren’t there contrac

"You don't understand—" "I understand perfectly. I grew up with a single mother who wouldn't accept help from my father out of pride. Wouldn't take his money, wouldn't agree to custody arrangements, insisted on doing everything herself because accepting help felt like surrender." Jasmine's eyes were wet now. "You know what happened? We were poor. Constantly stressed. And when mom got sick and couldn't work, we had nothing. No savings, no support system, no fallback plan. She died when I was sixteen, and I ended up in the system anyway—exactly what she'd been fighting to prevent." "Jasmine, I'm sorry—"

Taking a sip before I sink deeper into the couch and letting my head rest back so that I looked up to the ceiling rather than at him, I take that leap of faith and start talking. “Long story, but here goes. It was one early morning. My 15-year-old mother was out running, as she always did as part of her training, when she caught the unfortunate eye of my drunken father returning home after a night out with the boys. He bent her over a park bench and raped her. That’s how yours truly came to exist.

My mother let out a shaky breath, the most painful and final part of her story on the horizon, "I was a little over two months pregnant and the knock came at the door. He'd been killed when the old town hall collapsed. Rogue attack, mixed with old buildings. I didn't ask for details. I just wept, clinging at my stomach, praying to the Moon Goddess that it wasn't real."

"You taught me to always stay positive and happy around the clients. In that way, it will benefit us, so that's what I do. I can't just sulk in front of the clients for not having lunch at the cafeteria." Zaiden rolled up his sleeves since it was being a bother while eating. "I shall keep in mind. You like eating lunch made from the people you know." "Nice observation," I told him and continued eating my pasta. "By the way," Zaiden said, grabbing my attention, "You told me that your father left your mother before you were born, but you never told me your mother was young. How old was she when she got pregnant with you?" I kept my spoon on the table and inhaled a deep breath. "Here is the tru