Today I am utterly, thoroughly, disgusted. I have listened this past month, with a heavy heart, to the story of the girls in Gloucester, Massachusetts and their naïve pact to join one another in childhood pregnancy. Setting aside for a minute the myriad issues that surround such a pact, let’s focus on this: these are girls having children. They’re not young women, they’re not even legal to vote. I have wondered about these girls and their dreams; I have despaired that their desire for love is so great that they’re grabbing it the only way they know how: by creating a life that will love them.
But will it feel like love after those first few days? Will they feel loved and fulfilled and happy when they’re tiny little baby crops a fever of 104 in the middle of the night and they are all alone to deal with it? Will they feel the love when their little sweetie has colic and screams for hours on end, with no apparent consolation in sight? Will they feel love when they are exhausted and at their wits end, and the baby is hungry yet again. What about money? Diapers, formula (surely they won’t all breastfeed), clothing, and baby gear don’t come cheap? How will they provide for the child?
Moreover, how will they provide for themselves? How will they feel about themselves? Today? Tomorrow? In ten years? And in a few years after that, how will their little boys and girls, now adolescents, feel about them? My heart wrenches when I think of their futures, and the futures they are offering to these tiny, unsuspecting babies.
So this pact has been on my mind, and my heart has gone out to these girls and the mistakes they have made. And then I turn around and see none other than Jamie Lynn Spears, apparently the new posterchild for teen motherhood, declaring to OK Magazine that motherhood is “so much fun.” I just want to hug her and kiss her,” she proclaims of her new daughter, “and I’m happy all the time.”
Well, good for you Jamie Lynn. And shame on OK Magazine for glamorizing one of the most difficult possible situations in which a young girl can find herself. There is no better way to word it: I am simply disgusted. Of course, teen motherhood must be absolutely lovely, with all of the help the income from Zoey 101 (Jamie’s TV show) can provide. It must be just great, when, compared with your older sister, your teen pregnancy is the least of the family’s worries. But for all of the other girls out there, who don’t have these resources, and are desperately craving love and comfort, you’ve just sent the absolute wrong message. It’s not all fun and games, girls, and certainly not if you’re sixteen, on your own, uneducated, and broke. And here’s the thing: It’s just not all about you.
