Statistic
You are just another statistic now.
That's what she told me when I told her from the payphone at the gas station, on the corner of hwy 9 and hwy 102. I was 16 and pregnant. I still feel it burn in my ear drum from my end of the cord. 'you are just another statistic now.'
At that time I wasn't really sure what that meant. But I knew it wasn't kind. Even if it was true.
Here we are, 17 years later.
I write about my son a lot. Not to leave my other sons out, because I'm just as proud. Just when I think I couldn't be prouder of my boys, they prove me wrong.
There's just something special about being a young mom, and proving others wrong, I guess.
The nay sayers- you'll never make it. You won't finish high school. You won't amount to anything. He'll end up in the hood.
My 'hood' boy was just awarded the iron man during his football senior year banquet.
We weren't broadcasted on live television for reality TV but we made it.
It bothers me how much teen pregnancy is made to be some glamorized life. It is anything but.
It was hard, it IS hard. It is day by day, it is making it work. It is family helping out. Without my son's family helping, I may not have finished high school. I probably wouldn't be where I am today.
I didn't fight hard alone, I fought hard with people that loved us. And I'm forever grateful. I know we didn't get where we are, alone.
So here we are. Statistic, sure. But into a new statistic he is, a handsome young man who is going to graduate from high school in 2 months. His dream is to become a sports agent. He'll leave for the Navy in September. Yea, that 'hood' boy... he's gonna be alright.
When I speak to him it's like talking to a mirror, he's like a miniture me. But so much more. And I admire who he's becoming, every day. Your statistic played ball. I watched his baseball games, I watched him play football, and be amazing at anything he set his heart to.
There's your statistic. I love you Leroy.
That's what she told me when I told her from the payphone at the gas station, on the corner of hwy 9 and hwy 102. I was 16 and pregnant. I still feel it burn in my ear drum from my end of the cord. 'you are just another statistic now.'
At that time I wasn't really sure what that meant. But I knew it wasn't kind. Even if it was true.
Here we are, 17 years later.
I write about my son a lot. Not to leave my other sons out, because I'm just as proud. Just when I think I couldn't be prouder of my boys, they prove me wrong.
There's just something special about being a young mom, and proving others wrong, I guess.
The nay sayers- you'll never make it. You won't finish high school. You won't amount to anything. He'll end up in the hood.
My 'hood' boy was just awarded the iron man during his football senior year banquet.
We weren't broadcasted on live television for reality TV but we made it.
It bothers me how much teen pregnancy is made to be some glamorized life. It is anything but.
It was hard, it IS hard. It is day by day, it is making it work. It is family helping out. Without my son's family helping, I may not have finished high school. I probably wouldn't be where I am today.
I didn't fight hard alone, I fought hard with people that loved us. And I'm forever grateful. I know we didn't get where we are, alone.
So here we are. Statistic, sure. But into a new statistic he is, a handsome young man who is going to graduate from high school in 2 months. His dream is to become a sports agent. He'll leave for the Navy in September. Yea, that 'hood' boy... he's gonna be alright.
When I speak to him it's like talking to a mirror, he's like a miniture me. But so much more. And I admire who he's becoming, every day. Your statistic played ball. I watched his baseball games, I watched him play football, and be amazing at anything he set his heart to.
There's your statistic. I love you Leroy.
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