My Teenage Dream Ended

by Farrah Abraham

  I was expecting to hear the routine sound of an officer saying, “We received a report of a fight, what seems to be the problem?” Instead, I heard what sounded to be an introduction that got cut off, and man’s voice yelling, “Put the knives down!” By the time I got to the door, I saw an officer holding a gun pointed directly at my mom

  I said, “What’s going on? Put your gun down.”

  The officer said something like, “Your mom needs to put down her knives. She won’t put down her knives!”

  I looked over at my mom. She was standing there holding two knives, one in each hand. “Mom what are you doing with knives?” I asked and, again, the officer yelled, “Put your knives down!”

  She didn’t move.

  I said, “Mom put the knives down!”

  At this point I was truly terrified because, from what I was seeing, my mom was about to get shot in the head because, for some reason, she couldn’t just put the knives down.

  This was out of control. I said one last time, “Mom put your knives on the ground.” Finally, something in her brain clicked. She put the knives on the ground and the police officer lowered his gun. In seconds the police had my mom restrained. She was yelling “Let me go,” and “Farrah, look at what you’ve done.”

  She was blaming me for what was happening to her, but I was thinking, You almost got yourself killed because for some unknown reason you rushed to open the door with two knives. Even if they weren’t cops what the fuck were you thinking? I truly felt bad for my mom. But I felt like she had gone so far off the deep end that she really need a reality check to learn how to treat others, quit fighting, quit manipulating, and begin acting like the parent I needed her to be.

  I was in such shock that it all almost seemed to be happening in slow motion or somewhere far away. I snapped myself back into the scene in our front room when one of officers began asking me questions about the fight I had had earlier with my mom. As this point I was so taken aback by what had just happened that I had almost completely forgotten about our fight, which was the whole reason the police were there in the first place.

  The officers were trying to piece together what had happened, but my mom was hysterical. She was so worked up that no positive progress could be made at this time, which wasn’t working for the police. They had to make the choice, so off my mom went to the cop car, and to jail.

  One of officers drove off with my mom, and the others stayed behind to ask me questions about what happened between my mom and myself that had led to our physical altercation. They took photos of my face, where my lip had split, the area where we had fought, and the knives she had in her hands. After that they left.

  I stood there in total shock. I didn’t know what to do now. I was pretty sure I was going to need to find a new place to live. I was just relieved that Sophia was sleeping and taken care of. What had just happened seemed like the most awful thing I had ever experienced (and I had experienced quite a bit by then) but little did I know that in the days and weeks to follow, I would see the worst time in my whole life between my family and I.

  THE AFTERMATH

  The next day, I was contacted by a social worker from the Department of Human Services. They told me they would have to take Sophia into protective custody if I kept living with my mom. Our family’s attorney, whom I’ve know all my life, and the chief criminal justice attorney from the courthouse also called to talk about what was going on with my mother and about the charges against her.

  I dropped the charges, but they still said that my mom could not be around Sophia unless a third person was present to chaperone, which meant that we couldn’t live together anymore. I hoped my mom would move in with my grandparents temporarily, so that I could stay at our house with Sophia until I figured out what to do, but she couldn’t admit that she should have handled things differently and insisted that I be the one to move out.

  I asked her, “Where do you expect me to go now? I have to move out since you want to come back here. I can’t rent anything because I don’t have enough money saved or time to find an apartment.” I had nowhere else to go, so I said I was going to have to stay in her rental apartment in the house that she owned across the street.

  My mom still wanted to be in control. She acted like my moving into that apartment was a big sacrifice. Her response was, “So you want to move into my house across the street, I suppose I will let you, but there will be rules…” and so on, blah, blah, blah. I felt like after what had happened, she should have been more apologetic. I had dropped the charges against her, so her ass could get back into her house. I was making it easier for her, but she was still being controlling and adding to the distance she had already created between us.

  My dad was mad at me for calling the police. As usual, my mom was yelling at him, acting like this was his fault for, you know, the way I was acting. This was typical for them whenever we had a big blowout in our house. My mom would act like the victim and manipulate others into thinking they were the problem and my dad would cave in to her instead of resolving things the right way.

  This time I wasn’t going to let that happen.

  I told him he shouldn’t have left me the day my mom and I had the fight. He was always taking off to avoid conflict with my mom and then getting drawn back and bullied into taking her side. I knew I had done the right thing in calling the police. Even after I had dropped the charges the police still made her do community service and take anger management classes, which was exactly what she needed.

  I was being a parent and putting my daughter and her wellbeing first. It was my parents who, at this time, had gotten caught up in their issues and the stress of what we were going through and had forgotten their role.

  So, after almost a year of living with my parents, of feeling like they were trying to control my life, and dealing with their constant fighting, I was truly ready to move out. Ready to take on the challenge of being a single, working mother and going to school full-time. It was about my daughter’s health and safety, our future. So, I moved into my mom’s rental temporarily, but the two weeks I lived there were a total nightmare.

  The house wasn’t finished being renovated and was still under construction. There were no beds, the shower was dirty, there was no furniture and there was dust and dirt everywhere. That first night I tried to settle in as best as I could, using a cot and small pillows and a blanket as a bed for Sophia and I, but I couldn’t sleep and Sophia wasn’t happy. I fed her, soothed her and tried to get her to sleep, but she wouldn’t stop crying. I lost my patience and had to go in another room to calm myself down. This was a real low point in my life. When I had saved up enough money I moved into my own apartment, where I lived for about six months before moving back into my mom’s rental across the street (which by then was finished being renovated) so I could save money.

  After I moved out, it seemed to me like no one in my family offered me any help. They didn’t call me, didn’t offer support, or to watch Sophia anymore. I think they didn’t want to be involved in the drama between my mom and me. I felt totally abandoned, first by Derek, and now by my parents and the rest of my family.

  After almost a year of grieving for Derek and not being able to talk to anyone about how much I missed him, of fighting with my parents and losing the little support from my family that I had, of no one really wanting to talk but to blame everything on me, and of being left with no one to help me get through school or help watch Sophia, I started to get bitter and hate the situation I found myself in.

  I started feeling hate for Derek; for the choices he had made and for leaving me alone, to carry all this stress on my shoulders. I also felt so damn bad for Sophia. She was such a perfect daughter. She deserved it all, but instead she was dealt a childhood with no father and a mother struggling to get on her feet. I started feeling like I was failing at being a parent, which is the worst feeling in the world.

  Once the newspaper article about my mom’s arrest that ran in our local paper got picked u
p by the national media, everything became that much more stressful. By now, the first season of Teen Mom had already aired and our fan base was growing more and more. Having our private family issues made so public caused an even bigger rift between me and my family. They resented being bothered by reporters and nosey neighbors wanting information about me and the family—and who can blame them?

  People around me began acting like they knew all about me, that my private issues were their business. I had cut myself off from my old life and now only had party buddies, so when the shit hit the fan I had no one to call, no one to really be a friend. At school, the one place where I had been able to escape from it all, my teachers were constantly asking me if I was okay. Of course, I said I was. But my projects started reflecting a lack of focus, because I really wasn’t okay.

  The worst part of this period of my life was having to leave Sophia with childcare providers that I didn’t know. Because my mother was no longer allowed to babysit Sophia and money was so tight, the only childcare I could afford were babysitters from a list provided to me by the DHS.

  At one point I went through five different state babysitters in two months. I hated leaving her, but by this point I only had three weeks of classes left until the end of the quarter and I desperately needed help with Sophia so I could work and get to class.

  Finally, I told my parents about the situation. At the end of the day, despite all our issues, they loved Sophia unconditionally and agreed to watch her as often as they could, even if this meant they both had to watch her together until it was okay for my mom to be alone with Sophia again. I was relieved.

  STORMY WEATHER

  A couple of months later, just as my life was starting to settle down, I got served with papers from Derek’s mom. She was suing me for visitation rights to Sophia. But, as I argued in the court papers, she had never seen Sophia, never offered to pay for anything for her, never even sent her a birthday card or a gift.

  I had been trying to get benefits for Sophia from Social Security, so I had reached out to Derek’s sister. I needed someone from his family to supply a DNA sample to compare with Sophia’s. If it was a match then I would be able to prove that Derek was Sophia’s dad and she would be entitled to Social Security benefits. I hoped that since she was a new mom, too, that his sister would relate to where I was coming from and help me get Sophia’s benefits.

  At first, I was worried it would be hard to get her to commit to helping me. But once my lawyer contacted her she agreed to meet with me and provide the sample.

  A few days later we got together at a park near the testing center, so she could meet Sophia and then come with me to do the DNA testing. The MTV crew was there to film it for season two of Teen Mom. It was very emotional seeing her. This was the first time since Derek’s death that I had seen anyone from his family. She brought her daughter and an album with photos of Derek for Sophia.

  She told me that she had talked to Derek before he died and that he had told her that he had planned to be there for me after the baby was born, no matter what. That I was his first and only love and that, even if the baby wasn’t his, he was going to be there for me. I felt so sad hearing that. My one big regret is that I never got to hear him say those things to me himself before he died.

  As much as I wanted to have a relationship with Derek’s sister, for Sophia’s sake, eventually it got too awkward because she was always trying to talk me into letting her mom be around if we were going to meet up. I gave her my number to give to her mother and I said that if her mom wanted to see Sophia she could call and talk to me about it directly.

  After that, Derek’s mom and I texted back and forth a couple of times, trying to arrange a time for her to meet with me and Sophia, but every time I suggested a meeting she had some reason that she couldn’t make it. I was worried that she was just playing games and decided to send her a text letting her know that I didn’t want her in my life or my daughter’s life.

  I thought that would be the end of it, so I was taken completely by surprise when I got served with papers from her, suing me for visitation rights to Sophia. I had a hard time believing she genuinely wanted to be a part of Sophia’s life.

  I decided that I didn’t want her seeing Sophia. I wanted to fight her lawsuit. So I got a lawyer, and a court date was set. On the appointed day, I went to the courthouse and waited in the hall with my mom for the outcome of the hearing. My lawyer told me that, in order to win the case, Derek’s mom would have to prove that I was an unfit mother and that she already had a relationship with my daughter. If she could prove those things, then she would have the right to force me to let her see Sophia. I didn’t see how she could prove it, though. She had never had a relationship with my daughter.

  Still, at the courthouse, I was nervous. After waiting for thirty anxious minutes, my lawyer came out of the courtroom and told us that I had won. I was so relieved to be able to put the whole thing behind me. Then I had my lawyer take all the information from this court case and send it to the Social Security office. With that evidence, and the DNA test from Derek’s sister, which proved with 99.65% accuracy that he was the father, I was able to ultimately get survivor benefits for Sophia.

  I just wanted Sophia to be able to get her benefits. The whole thing had been dragging on for almost a year by this point and I just wanted to get it over with so I never had to deal with Derek’s mom ever again.

  MOVING FORWARD

  Meanwhile, I still had to finish my last quarter of school and I was more stressed out than ever. I was torn between wanting to work hard and feeling like I just wanted to get it over with so I could spend more time with Sophia. I felt like I was constantly playing catch-up in both areas of my life.

  I had always thought that I would have my college degree before I had a baby. Things hadn’t worked out that way, but I still desperately wanted to get my degree so that I could keep moving forward with Sophia. I was terrified of being left behind or finding myself stuck where I was for the rest of my life.

  Even though my goal was now within reach, this was a real low point in my life. I felt suicidal when I thought about how my life had turned out. Nothing had worked out like I had dreamed it would in those early days with Derek. Instead of us going off to college together, moving into our own place, getting married and living happily ever after, Derek was gone and I was

  raising our child on my own— and I was only nineteen!

  On top of that I had been fighting with my parents at home and with Derek’s mom in court. All I wanted was to be able to give Sophia a happy childhood, but up until now it had been filled with legal battles and arrests. I felt like we would never be able to live normal lives.

  Those last couple of weeks of college were hard. I was overwhelmed from the stress of the court case with Derek’s mom, dealing with Derek death, and not being able to spend as much time with Sophia as I wanted. Sometimes I would just break down and start crying in the middle of class. I would have to take time-outs during the day. I was an emotional wreck.

  I actually messed up so badly on my A La Carte Cooking final that I had to retake it. I was supposed to make the meal, set it up, and fire it out to the table, but my biscuits were horrible and my meat was overdone. I felt like my mind was so clogged up by stress that I couldn’t remember how to do the simplest things. Two days later, as I was driving to school to retake the final, a song came on the radio that Derek and I used to listen to, back when we were happy, before all the fighting and lying started. It made me remember how good life seemed back then. Instead of feeling sad, it got me thinking about how good life could be again. It helped me pull myself together and focus enough to get through the final.

  At this point, it became clear to me that I needed help processing everything I was going through. I realized for the first time that I had never properly grieved Derek’s death. I had been bottling up my emotions because I needed to be strong for Sophia. Now it was time to really deal with my feelings about losing Derek and how
my life had turned out.

  Being thrust into adulthood—not to mention the public eye—so abruptly had been traumatic. I barely recognized my life anymore. One minute I was a sixteen-year-old cheerleader in a rocky relationship, the next I was a single mother and reality-TV star.

  I started going to counseling. It was good for me to be able to talk to someone impartial who could guide me through difficult situations and set me straight when I was wrong. Having this outlet helped me process all the traumatic changes in my life—getting pregnant, losing Derek, and becoming a teen mom. It helped me deal with the bad feelings that came from my insecurities and struggles with motherhood.

  I still go to counseling to help me stay on track and process my grief. I want to stay positive and not be sad around Sophia. I want to truly enjoy what the world has to offer. It’s an ongoing process and I’m not ashamed to admit that I need help dealing with being a single mom.

  In the end I worked through my finals, passed, and graduated with my Associate’s Degree. I was both happy and relieved to be able to end that chapter of my life. I felt like now I could move forward and continue my education, but at a regular speed so that I could really enjoy it, and enjoy my child as well.

  After I graduated, I started thinking back to what it was I had wanted to do before I got pregnant. I had always wanted to go away for college, and I realized that this was something I could still do. I had always dreamed about being in my twenties, living on my own and not having to answer to anyone, but going to college also meant so much more than that—it was about freedom and being part of something bigger than what I had known in my hometown.