Tag Archives: real life story

Missing The Father of My Child As A Teen Mom

It was the winter of 1995. I was 15 years old and due to have my first baby that summer. Terrified to my core, I knew I had no real relationship with the man who had got me pregnant. I was facing the total upheaval of my life without a partner or even a responsible party. I was deeply ashamed. Everyone seem to be involved in my personal life and the drastic situation I found myself in. As the truth came out about my pregnancy, so the relentless questions followed. Mostly, all had one primary concern:

“Who is the father?”

It was known to most that I wasn’t involved with anyone. It was known to me that the last few months had consisted of a some scattered interactions with men that could basically be summed up in the term One Night Stand. I was enjoying many aspects of being in high school, but finding a serious relationship among my peers, in a town that I was not from, didn’t work out for me. Similar was the occasion when I met the father of my first child. We hit it off right away, but it wasn’t a relationship I was able to mentally maintain. He was a young man juggling college and fraternities. Our worlds were separated. He called for months after our meeting, I never returned one call.

My life from that time went on, slowly but surely. I adjusted. My mom and I moved back to our hometown area only weeks after finding out I was expecting. Just like that, I had a clean start. My mother handled much of our care. She was the real backbone for my son and I those first few years. While I am grateful, I still struggled. I knew I didn’t have what most couples did when they fell in love, got married and started a family; I didn’t expect that. I just desperately wanted the father of my child in our lives, regardless of where that would lead for me romantically. The birth of my son made everything new in a way that went beyond dating and being in love, I was now part of a family. It was a family that felt so very incomplete without the support of a co-parent. Many times over the next decade of my life I wondered and thought about this missing man. After things settled I considered trying to find him, but it was too late. I knew too little about him and we no longer had mutual relationships. I stressed, I suffered, I wept – but I did all alone. I felt as though it was a load to heavy to bear. I hadn’t gotten pregnant by myself, so why was I solely responsible for my son’s needs? I got my first job at sixteen, graduated on time from high school and then college. We moved out of my parents home when I was 18 and my child was 2. We seemed to be coping, but there was always a hole, especially for my son.

The toughest part about being a teen mom was facing those questions. This was never more clearly covering over all my undertakings then on the days that those questions were asked by my child. To be alive and not know who you come from is an isolating pain that I can only imagine. I saw how my son longed to know his dad. My answers to his inquiries were too brief and empty. I could not explain to the heart of this little boy why every else had a dad, but he did not. I could only offer him my faith in God. I could only answer with utter certainty that I knew everything would work out for the best in the end. That God had intended for me to be his mother and we could trust Him for our future. My son is grown now, and I have never once regretted my choice to give him life. I do know now from experience that the role of a father in a child’s life is invaluable and cannot simply be replaced or over looked. No matter how little the involvement, we must instill in our youth the immeasurable value each of us play as responsible adults and parents. We are needed.  It’s time to rethink manhood and what that means coming of age in America. We need to place a higher value on the stability of the family and the integrity of a gentlemen. Sexual liberation in our day in age is costing us something: The emotional wholeness of our children and subsequently the moral stability of our nation. Fatherhood is that profound! With communication and unity we can make that difference.

Author Bio

 My name is Jennifer Hoge. I am a woman of God, the wife of a fearless American and a homeschooling mom to seven. I blog to encourage teen moms and change the negative statistics surrounding teen parenthood. I self publish to fund my adventures, 3rd book due out summer 2016. #Amazon

Knowledge Sabbatical

Becoming an author has been a learning experience. The vision for the book comes. Once you decide it is a project that you are taking on, from that moment, you live the book. You live the process. You must give yourself to it. You become a journalist. You gather your facts and information which you know in advance will be needed. Every writer probably has an unique process. I have heard many describe writing a book as “Birthing”. However you want to say it, you must allow the space and time to create. You must GO there. Wherever that is, your imagination or your past, maybe deep into the recesses of your own soul, to find the ultimate story, to tell it exactly as only you can. It is an adventure. It is deep, it is draining and, like giving birth, it takes a strength that must be summoned.

God has opened up a door for me to get away from my normal surroundings and go to a Christian retreat. There, I will be able to rest, gain support and have a lot of free time to write. I will miss my social media relationships while I am gone, but like my phone experiment, I know I will flow right back into my constant presence on Facebook, WordPress, Google, Instagram and Twitter. I thank you all for following me through this journey. Know that you are all in my thoughts and prayers as I prepare for the next phase of my ministry. I am so geeked to complete this next project and link up with more like minded women who share the Pleasing Abba vision:

Every Nation

Every Language

Creating Opportunity

Eliminating poverty


Synergy As A Source

The power that comes together when like-minded people join forces, Synergy. In this life of struggle and dog-eat-dog, let’s face it, we need all the support we can get. A huge part of my ability to overcome negative statistics as a teen mom was the devotion of responsible mentors who wanted to see me succeed. I was down. I was overwhelmed and I needed a team of people to set my feet on solid ground. Trust worthy caregivers to care for my son who was only weeks old when I returned to high school. Compassionate counselors who knew my pain and the kind of direction I needed to be imprinted with. And of course, the administrators who ran the programs and saw to it my educational needs were accessible. My life changed drastically when I became a first time mother at sixteen, but I have a success story that came out of despair and I can promise you it was not something I could have done alone. It required synergy as my source.

As life went on I found seasons change. I settled down to have a family. The simple fact of having a baby (or 6) at home can make it seem like there is no getting out. I became very isolated during the thick of my childbearing years. Suddenly, I was submerged. The long hours and the sleepless nights that went on for years. The challenges of money that come with acquiring more responsibility, it all was too much to handle alone. I looked around one day and realized losing my support system, or failing to ensure a new one, was a mistake. I needed help. I needed friendship and quality people in my life for it to be balanced. Though I benefited from the support of other good people during my single years, I had let it go thinking that was the normal thing we all did as spouses and parents. I excepted that everyone became more involved with tending to their own families and I followed suit.

When God called me to begin this ministry, my instinct was to surrounded myself with people who were already living ministry leadership. I changed my news feeds so I only saw posts from these mentors. I began to seek out my guidance and direction through anointed relationships. God was using others to bring me into this new level of my life.  I had reached a place were I understood it was no good for me to operate alone. The work God was doing required MANY. I faced the issues of hard relationships. I faced the issues of negative relationships. Both of these complications had kept me closed off and isolated in the past. I needed tools and I needed synergy again to beat the odds, to be a success at what God was calling me to do. One of these important relationships came in the form of a Twitter follow. Someone I had connected with recommended daily emails via #DailyProphetic and Neilvermillion.com. This became a powerful connection in my social media experience. I felt whenever Neil put a word out, it was an opportunity to meet with the Lord Himself and be refreshed.


Synergy as my source has become a motto in my life. I need the right people to break out into influence if I intend to reach the youth of this world with the love of the Father. It is a work I cannot do alone. It is bigger than me. It requires many experts. It will require a strength that must be tapped into through the anointed elect. Whatever you are trying to accomplish for God, I know you will find yourself in need of empowerment. Stay connected to the anointing of the Holy Spirit which is present in this age. Together, we can do great things! #PleasingAbba #DailyProphetic #TeenMomSuccess

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Prophetic word for today

The Clinic

I do not know if it was fear, self-doubt or the cruel way in which my parents had spoken to me that made me snap, but an unrelenting spirit took over my mind and again and again it began to confess, “I cannot do this, I can’t have this baby!” I thought of my dance team. It was January, basketball season was beginning. I would have to quit.


I couldn’t imagine quitting my favorite part of school. My Mother had found out the truth about my pregnancy shortly after I had, at a physical check-up. Life had been filled with panic since that day. My mom and step-father said I would choose what course to take about the pregnancy. I approached my mother at the computer in her office.

“I’ve made up my mind. I’m going to have an abortion.”

The conversation needed to be brief. I felt numb. The need to shelter my thoughts from the stress was instinctual; I was in survival mode. There was no way to make out a solution in my mind. I was fifteen, in the middle of my sophomore year and everything revolved around my friends. I didn’t really understand my body, or sex for that matter. It had been something all my peers were doing. I was longing to find acceptance and sex was a huge pressure for those of us in the most popular circles. Naively, I believed pregnancy would not happen to me. My mother handled everything from there and before I knew it, the morning of the appointment had arrived. When my mom saw I was dressed in jeans she asked me to pack a comfortable change of clothes, some sweatpants perhaps. I was indifferent to my mother’s advice. I could only operate like a machine. I couldn’t think about what I was about to do. “I can’t handle it, I can’t have this baby!” I told myself and angrily marched to the car.

The clinic was across the state line. An average office building in an office park. Once there, I noticed women in nurse uniforms waiting out front to escort girls in. My heart sank into my stomach and I began to panic. “Please don’t let there be protesters!” I thought. “I’ll pass out!” Fortunately, we were able to make our way inside without any event. There were single chairs in rows not secured into the floor and a receptionist sat behind a glass window. Other young ladies were coming and going through the process as I was. Still in the trance of determination to save my “normal” life and image, I tried to ignore them. My mother and I were quickly called back to a private office. A petite women looked up from a large ornate desk. She was thin, dressed in business attire with some type of ID badge clipped to her suit jacket. She stood to introduce herself when we entered, then sat down and began the discussion of payment. Again I found it impossible to engage. I wanted it to all be over with. Like a bad dream, I wanted out. My mom assured the women we were able to pay cash. Once more we waited briefly, this time to be placed into an examination room which resembled the kind you wait in at the E.R.. Each room was really only three walls of fabric ran on a track. I laid down on the exam table. Soon an ultra sound tech entered, pushing a monitor on wheels. The tech said little and made no eye contact. She touched a tool to my belly with a dab of cold lubricant on the end and began to stare intently into the screen. As I felt the mouse inch slowly across my abdomen, I kept my eyes locked on hers. As if on a cliff I waited, hoping for any kind of information.

“That’s my baby she’s looking at..”

A small voice rose up inside of me as a single tear fell down my face. “That’s my baby, right there!” I could not see what the ultrasound tech saw. I could not see the image of my unborn baby on the computer screen, but in that moment my heart ached for my child. She seemed to have seen everything she needed, and abruptly ended the ultrasound to excuse herself. Soon after a nurse returned with the tech. The two women began to inform us that the baby was 13 weeks along and I was already in the second trimester of my pregnancy. The nurse explained how a normal abortion would no longer be possible. I would have to endure a two-day procedure. Her words hung in the air. We sat there in a state of frozen horror until once again we were alone. My mother looked into my face to scan my thoughts. “I can’t handle this! I just want to be put to sleep so I don’t remember anything!” I blurted out what my mind wanted with emotion and began to sob.


My mom was calm and still. “I know,” she said holding onto to me, “But that’s not an option, honey.” It was as if this was the moment she was waiting for. I had to face the reality of my circumstances. In a peaceful relieved way, my mom seemed to know I didn’t have it in me to abort the baby. This was the break in the insanity were I had a way out. From the moment I had begun the day, I had just wanted it to be over. Now it was. There was no way to proceed as planned. We decided to leave before making a final choice.

I didn’t understand all the terms the nurses had used, but I understood what she had described. I couldn’t do that. It was too terrible! The symptoms of pregnancy and the return to the safety of my own room were enough reasons to go to bed early that day. As I lay in my bed pondering the future, I felt the presence of God.

“Jennifer, will you have this baby?”

The Holy Spirit was direct and to the point.

“But Lord, there’s no father, I’m fifteen…. how can this work?”

“I Will Be There.”

The answer came quickly. It was so clear, so certain,  I didn’t want to argue or question this voice of wisdom. Without any further reasoning, I knew I couldn’t deny God. “Yes!” I answered in my heart. A slow peace rushed over me for the first time in a long time. My thoughts began to wonder at motherhood and having a baby. Just like that my mind was made. No one would change it. No one would control my choice, fate was sealed. I would face many obstacles from that moment. I would lose my friends, social status and almost everything I had know as normal. Yet I would never question my choice to become a mother versus having an abortion. With every disappointment and heartache I came across, I clung to the promise of God. I carried it in my heart. I believed that the God of the universe would be with me and my child. Someday, somehow, it would all be ok.