If you would have told me a year ago all of the changes that were coming, I don’t know if I would have believed it. We struggle to envision miraculous things because we can only see from our view. If only we could begin to see things through Gods view, we would realize things are possible beyond what we could ever imagine. Yes, God is that good!
This last year has been full of uncertainty and excitement. It has been terrifying, yet quite extraordinary. It has been challenging, yet enlightening. It has pushed me further than I would have ever chosen but so worth it. I have learned so much about myself and the world. It has forced me to look deep within and to uncover things that I didn’t even realize were still there. It has forced me to deal with pain, anger, resentment, healing, love, loneliness and joy. It has given me great perspective. It has given me peace. It has forced me to make choices; some easy, some difficult, but all necessary. It has brought my family closer. It has forced me outside of any comfort I’ve known. It has forced me to question everything I’ve known. It has forced me to trust people I don’t know. It has reminded me that I only have to answer to God.
You see the world has been harsh. People over time have taken piece after piece of me, leaving almost nothing. I used to have this light about me, this pure beauty and confidence, this ambition and motivation that anything was possible. I wanted so much out of life, for myself, for the world. Over time, I allowed people and the world to dim that light. I inadvertently started to believe them, what they saw as possible. I allowed them to keep score for me.
I don’t know what’s next but I am looking forward to it…
2018 has been a transformative year for me. Last year I woke up and realized I had been living someone else’s truth. By the world’s standards, everything was great, my family, my house, my job. But none of it seemed right for me. It was as if I’d outgrown everyone and everything around me. I felt like I was being called to make a change. So, I did just that. I left everything I knew and started off into the unknown. New state, new house, new job, new everything. During this time of extreme soul searching and discomfort; I began dreaming big and facing new fears that have pushed me and elevated my level of resilience and confidence. I’ve been given opportunities from relocating to starting a new role to reinventing myself. Or better yet, finding myself. and my purpose… My Purpose|To educate, empower & challenge the disadvantaged. As the transformation is not yet complete, I am excited for 2019 to embark on living my purpose and being my best self. I’m stepping out on faith to start and grow Tiffany Lynn and Thrive. I plan to serve my community and make the world better by educating, empowering & challenging individuals and organizations. I can’t wait to see it unfold.
“Provision will follow Vision”.
I left the hospital in shock. At this point, I didn’t even know I could have a baby. Silly, I know. How could I be so naive? I honestly don’t have a good reason. No one had ever talked to me about sex, let alone safe sex or pregnancy. I didn’t understand. Why would I be pregnant? He cheated on me, I had planned to never speak to him again.
What was I supposed to do now? The car ride home, I was silent. My mother was in a rage. She started screaming and shaking. She was telling me that we would take care of this. I had completely tuned her out. I was lost in my own thoughts. I was talking to God. I was asking him, why now? I was asking him if I was capable or if I should go the route of adoption. I didn’t think I would be strong enough to give my child up for adoption. Suddenly, I hear her say, you will not have this child! Your grandfather would roll over in his grave. She said he’d better be blonde haired and blue-eyed.
I finally told her to shut up! I told her I didn’t care what she or anyone else thought. I told her that I would find a way and didn’t need her support or approval. I also told her how ridiculous she sounded. She was furious. She slammed on the brakes and told me, she would force me to have an abortion. I told her, it was not her choice and I didn’t care what she did to me.
She had her own deep issues arise during this moment. She herself had an abortion at 15. It was traumatic in of itself but more so because from what she told me, she had to travel to New York alone to have this done as it was illegal at the time. I tried to be understanding but I really couldn’t understand. Looking back, I can honestly say abortion was not an option for me, it never even crossed my mind.
We arrived home and she continued to carry on. I went to my room and closed the door. How was I going to tell Randall? How was my life going to change? How would we provide for and raise this child? I wanted a girl. Ironically, I never wanted to be a mother. I never dreamed of being married. Up to this point, I hadn’t thought any further out than the day in front of me. As I young child, I had huge aspirations. I was extremely bright and excelled at all that I attempted. I wanted to be the first women president of the United States. By my preteen years, all had diminished. I had no goals, no hopes. I was just trying to survive.
We were so poor. We had nothing. I didn’t know what my next steps would be but I knew everything would be OK. I felt as if it was God sending me a wake-up call. It was as if he shook me with two arms telling me to wake up! I heard him.
I told Randall that I was pregnant. He was excited. See, I think what brought us together initially was our desire to be loved. We were both so lost. We had so much potential, but no one around telling us to use it or even how to. His aunt Loretta, God rest her soul. She loved us. She was probably the closest I ever felt to a mothers love. She wasn’t happy at first but she was there for us. She always gave it to you straight. I miss her to this day. No matter what terms Randall and me were on, I knew Loretta was always in my corner.
The next several months were hard as we prepared for the birth of my son. Not just because of the grieve and judgment I received from others but the actual pregnancy. I gained 70 lbs. I had stretch marks from here to Sunday. We had a few complications throughout that had to be monitored. I remember being so big and uncomfortable. But I never complained.
My whole mindset had changed. I went from not caring about what happened to me, running the streets, doing things that I shouldn’t have been to going to school and job searching. I didn’t have a plan written out but I knew that I would do whatever it took to provide a good life for my son. I wanted him to have everything I didn’t. I didn’t want him to be tarnished by having a teen parent. I wanted him to have his mother and father. I wanted that so deeply that I subjected myself to things I would have never tolerated otherwise. I was willing to do whatever it took to keep my family together.
Randall was slower at coming around. While I was in labor, he couldn’t be found. Or didn’t want to be. I just wanted him. By this time, we weren’t really together. Well, he wasn’t with me. They found him at one of his girlfriends. He hoped in the car and headed to the hospital. I was so angry but relieved that he was on his way.
Due to complications, my doctor ordered an ultrasound the day before. It was then, that he realized, 3 1/2 weeks to go, I had an almost 9 lbs baby. I was admitted to the hospital to be induced. The medication that they gave me made the contractions worse. Not that I had anything to compare it to. But it was awful. I just wanted it to be over. The labor was not progressing. They continued to try other medications to help me progress. I wasn’t dilating. My contractions weren’t picking up. They had to use a fetal monitor. They broke my water. They were afraid I would be at risk for a dry birth and a c section may be necessary.
Suddenly, the nurse said it was time to push. After being in the hospital and labor for days, I was exhausted. I started to push. It was hours of pushing. I wanted to give up. His heart rate was dropping. I just pushed with everything I had. His head was stuck. I had to be cut. They had to forceps. But finally, he was out.
The room was silent. He was blue, he didn’t cry. I didn’t know anything was wrong. The look and urgency on everyone’s faces made me panic. I was trying to see what was happening. They told me to calm down, I was being stitched up. I couldn’t move. I felt helpless.
I woke up like any other morning, came downstairs to find my mother sitting at the table drinking her coffee and smoking a cigarette. She looked unusually troubled. She was sitting there with a police officer. I say, “what’s going on?” She says,”Tiffany, sit down.” So I hesitantly take a seat. She proceeds to tell me that I need to go to the hospital for psychological evaluation. Confused, I sit quietly. The officer asks me if I want to harm myself or anyone else. In my mind, I’m thinking, my delusional mother at this moment. I angrily say this is ridiculous and explain to the officer that she was just released after a two-week stay at the University of Cincinnati Hospital Psych unit. I work a fulltime job, take classes 5 days a week, take care of my young son and this household because my mother can’t.
My mother tells the officer to take me away. The officer looks at my mother and explains that you can’t check someone in against their will unless they’re a harm to themselves or others. My mother is furious! The officer leaves with despair on her face. I think she knew that whatever would follow, would not be pleasant.
What prompted this? I had recently told my mother that I was moving out on my own. I couldn’t take the stress of all that I was carrying, to come home and have to take care of her house too. She was not having this, she knew if I left, my check she received would leave too. She had recently been scammed on the internet for the little savings we had.
So I get in the shower continuing with my plan of going to look for places before work. After we get ready, I come downstairs to find my mother, her sister and their friend. I’m a small girl, 15 years old, 5’5, maybe 125lbs carrying my son, whose 1 years old and about 40 lbs. My mother is blocking the stairs where I’m trying to walk down. They begin to taunt me, of how they’re taking my son and forcing me to check into the psych ward. I just ignore them and head towards the front door, the friend blocks the doorway. I quickly rush towards the back door, my aunt blocks it. Beginning to panic, I head for the phone, my mother rips it out of the wall. They’re screaming at me, telling me I’m going, they’re taking my child and there’s nothing I can do about it.
My mind is racing. I can’t think straight. I make my way to the couch in disbelief. They approach me, grabbing for my son, yelling at me. I had him wrapped in my arms blocking them with my legs and feet. All that I can utter out of my mouth is you all are crazy and you will have to kill me to take him. I just begin to pray, looking at my son thinking god will get us out of this. But I couldn’t imagine how it seemed so unreal and out of control.
Suddenly, my dad walks in the door. He stops dead in his tracks and yells, “STOP!” They are so shocked, they actually do. He says, “Tiffany, go!” I’ve never moved so quickly in my life. I left with nothing, not even his car seat. I can hear them taunting him now, asking him what’s he gonna do with me, he’s never been a father. He tells them they’re crazy and I don’t deserve this. If I can back up for a second to tell you, I never got to know my father, had to relationship or respect for him. I had nothing but anger and resentment because of my mother’s words and his absence in my life. I don’t think my father ever stood up for anything or anyone a day in his life until that moment. It was powerful; it was as if God sent him at the exact moment I needed him most. As I reflect on this, I’m tearing up. It’s just powerful.
He comes out of the house with a diaper bag and car seat. We leave, unsure of where we’re headed.