When I found out I was pregnant at 17, it didn’t feel like one of those dramatic teenage crises you see in movies. It felt quieter, heavier. Shame was the first thing that wrapped around me, not because of the babies growing inside me, but because I’d already learned how to make myself small long before that morning. I knew how to fold myself into corners at school, how to pretend not to exist when girls my age talked about prom dresses or weekend parties. They floated through hallways with bright eyes and simple dreams. I drifted through them clutching a stomach full of morning sickness and fear, trying to breathe through the nausea during third-period algebra…..CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
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