Just a baby and her teen mom

What’s it like to grow up with a parent who’s still growing up themselves?

Growing up with a teen mom was never something I thought much about as a child. I didn’t know what it meant at the time—who would at such a young age? But as I grew older, I started to piece together the fragments of my earliest memories, and those moments began to tell a story.

I don’t remember much about the dynamic between my mom and me during my early childhood. I know she was young—just 16 when she had me. I imagine she was doing the best she could, juggling motherhood with the challenges that came with being a teenager. Looking back, I can see how difficult it must have been for her to raise a baby while still growing up herself. But for me, she was always my mom, and it wasn’t until I was older that I started to understand the layers of complexity behind our relationship.

There are flashes of memories from my childhood that stand out in my mind like brief movie clips. Some are so vivid, it’s like they’re frozen in time. Like the time she “ran me over.” It wasn’t on purpose, of course, but for a long time, I wasn’t sure if that story was about me or my sister. Eventually, I realized—it was my story. (Funny how you can grow up and still be piecing together parts of your own past.)

I also remember my early days in Arkabutla, west of Coldwater. I remember the mud. The dirt. The freedom of being a child with little care for anything except the next adventure. I ate dirt, got dirty, and probably made a mess of things daily. I’ve heard stories about my obsession with a pair of pink cowgirl boots—probably a childhood staple I wouldn’t let go of. But while these are my memories, I realize that my mom’s perspective is just as important, if not more so, to understand how our relationship began.

Since my mom was the one who lived through it all, I thought it would be interesting to share her perspective, too—especially because she’s the one who can actually remember what it was like to be 16 and suddenly be responsible for a tiny human. I’ve asked her to share her side of the story, and here it is:

My Mom’s Perspective

Becoming a teen mom wasn’t all peaches and cream. When I found out I was pregnant, my mother and stepfather told me, “You laid down and made that baby—you will take care of her.” I had my bundle of joy on January 26th, and from that day forward, my life changed tremendously. I had to grow up fast.

After six weeks, I went back to school—I was only in the ninth grade—and started working my first job at Sonic in Senatobia. I’d ride the bus home and drive my mom’s wrecked car to pick Tamera up from her babysitter, Ms. Yates. It wasn’t easy juggling school, work, and being a full-time mom. Eventually, I got overwhelmed and decided to drop out of school.

I made mistakes and poor choices along the way, but every decision I made was with Tamera—and her siblings—in mind. The challenges were endless, but so were the rewards. Looking back, my advice to other teen moms or young parents is this: You will face struggles, and some days will feel impossible, but don’t give up on yourself or your child. Build a support system, seek guidance, and remember that your love and resilience will shape the life of someone who looks up to you.

Reading her words makes me reflect even more on everything she went through. I see now that the sacrifices she made were bigger than I realized—like letting my grandmother raise me so she could figure out how to give me the life she thought I deserved. I know that wasn’t an easy decision for her, but it was one made out of love.

Having a teen mom shaped my life in ways I never fully understood until now. Her strength and resilience carried us through, and they still inspire me. As I piece together our story, I see the lessons she’s taught me, the sacrifices she’s made, and how much she’s always wanted the best for me.

From the baby she once had to the woman I am now, I’m proud of the journey we’ve taken together. Her strength is part of who I am today, and for that, I will always be thankful.

Authentically, 

Tam