‘I owe my success to being a teenage mum’

Wjnoorhwdeann Mitchell, 32, found herself pregnant at 17 she was shocked by the stigma she faced…

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judgement is a familiar part of motherhood. People can’t help but share their views on breast v bottle and working v stay-athome mums. We all parent differently, but the overriding feeling of guilt and not being worthy is intrinsically linked with motherhood. Yet nothing quite provokes the need to pass judgement like being a teenage mum.

I wouldn’t imagine meeting someone for the first time and asking them their age, if it was a planned pregnancy or if their children have the same father – yet when confronted by a young mother, people think it’s appropriate to ask the most intrusive questions imaginable. Quite often the implication is you’re a failure – a notion which, coupled with all of the other insecurities associated with parenting, is simply overwhelming.

I found out I was pregnant when I was 17. My boyfriend was a few years older, but it was a learning curve for both of us. I was at a performing arts college at the time and was determined to continue my studies. The teachers were supportive, but the school were keen for me to keep my pregnancy under wraps for as long as possible. I felt embarrassed. But I was pregnant, I didn’t have the plague.

But before I had even reached my final trimester, I went into premature labour at 27 weeks. When I gave birth to my daughter who weighed 2.2lbs, she had a 50% chance of survival. She had several brain haemorrhages, MRSA virus, key-hole heart surgery and fundoplication surgery (an invasive operation to treat severe reflux). It was relentless. We were in and out of Great Ormond Street Hospital for the best part of three years.

I found myself living at home with my mum, going back and forth to the hospital, while my friends were travelling, going to parties, experimenting and finding themselves. Going through such a traumatic experience, I grew up overnight. Things that once mattered, like clothes and friend dramas, were no longer important.

There were many tears, for my daughter and, in the midst of it, for myself. While I was so grateful that my daughter looked like she was on the road to recovery, I was also mourning losing a part of myself. I felt selfish for feeling anxious and depressed, but the truth was that I wasn’t the same person anymore.

I come from a long line of strong women. My mother never let me wallow. So as soon as my daughter’s health became stable, in a bid to regain my confidence and identity, I decided to go to university when she was three. It was like an emancipation: for a couple of hours a day, while my daughter was at the childminder’s, I was like any other 20-year-old. I developed a sense of belonging and some lightness in my life.

At university, we were all united by our goals, and I went to parties and made friends – I felt like me again. My responsibilities as a mother made me work harder and gave me a sense of purpose and value. When I wasn’t at university I was working part-time in a call-centre in the evenings and alternate weekends. We were renting our own place and the responsibilities of paying for a child while planning our future felt very pressured.

And yet still people would take it upon themselves to pass comment. During my pregnancy, I worked in a photography shop and the manager told me they’d had ‘such high hopes for me’. I was thrown that someone in their forties would think it was appropriate to question my choices. Later, so-called friends would say, ‘When I have kids I want to do it the right way and be married first.’ None of these people were nuns – they’d be judging me and then at the weekend be out taking loads of drugs. And, of course, many people felt I should have just stayed at home rather than put pressure on my partner by working and studying alongside childrearing. You’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

It wasn’t always the straightforward comments that would upset me; more often, it was a negative undertone that would chip away. I knew when I walked into a room with my child people instantly put me into a category. Their questions – do you still see your baby’s father? Where did you grow up? What did your mum say? – showed they had assumed so much

about me. I still get asked those things because of the ages of my kids and it’s made me guarded about my home life.

In my final year of university I became pregnant again with our second child. On the cusp of graduation, I was unprepared to take time off and needed to keep the momentum going right until my due date. I continued interning at magazines and, after reading an article about Liz Matthews, sought an internship with her PR firm. I was scared of stopping because having a baby had already stalled my teenage life so much. I knew turning up for work experience heavily pregnant was strange, but I hoped this experience would equip me to provide for my children’s future. I was fortunate that I had such a strong support network – with seven siblings and aunts, cousins and grandparents, I always had someone to call upon.

Our son was born, full term, over the Christmas holidays. By January, I returned to university to hand in my dissertation and graduated that summer with a firstclass BA honours degree in journalism. While we didn’t have the immediate health issues I experienced with my daughter, I later realised my son had autism, which presented an entirely new set of challenges. I was still a young mother and all the old issues and insecurities resurfaced.

After I graduated I found work with a communications agency based in Camden. My son was only six months at the time, but I kept the fact I was a mum a secret from them for the first three months. I didn’t want to endure any prejudices or be viewed as less capable. I kept my head down, working full-time and getting home at 9pm. This put a real strain on my family and my relationship, as I was trying to be all things to everyone which was impossible.

It has been a tough journey to get where I am now. My children are 15 and nine and both wonderful, well-mannered and kind humans. I married their father last year, bought my own home, and I’m now the managing director at Liz Matthews PR. I can look at my family and know it was all worth it. I have the work-life balance I need, which only came with experience and confidence. Being a teenage mother made me into the woman I am today – and I want to talk about the positives to counter all those negative stereotypes. I’m tougher, more resilient, philosophical and more determined because of it. I used the fear of failure as the fuel to my success.

being a young mum provokes such a need to pass Judgement