Traditionally, my story is not glamorous, my story challenges people and the truth of it is, that some often prefer not to hear it.
But this is my story, and that of some 22,000 young women every year – possibly our most excluded in our nation: Pregnant and parenting teens.
I’ll never forget the night my dad screamed out, at the top of his lungs to the whole of suburban Melbourne, that his 16-year-old daughter had sex and now was pregnant. My mum couldn’t walk for six weeks – we thought she had MS – because of the shock of my pregnancy.
Scared and very alone, I went to Mr Sheil, my Year 10 Year Level Coordinator. I thought he was 130 years old at the time, but in reality he was probably only 25! He felt like a safe place though. I told him what happened, he took my hand, stared me in the eye and said, “The journey might be different now, but the destination can stay the same”.
My, how I needed those words.
As a new mother, still recovering from the birth, I caught the bus with my newborn, overwhelmed, I’d hardly held a baby and no one told me how to pack a nappy bag.
I wondered how I might get the pram and bags onto the bus. The driver looked down at me and said something shocking, while a busload of people watched me stumble up the stairs, carrying my pram and bags. I tried hard not to cry. My destination was the local adult education centre, where I hoped to finish secondary school. Creating a pathway to education was like climbing Mt Everest.