The Next Generation

Renée Leader

I was 17 and I was pregnant, which is never ideal. There was no celebration, no baby shower, no gender reveal party. Just harsh whispers, nasty comments, and two families at war.
In a small ultrasound room inside a modest country hospital, I found out that my baby was a boy.
And I was instantly flooded with relief.
Relief that my son would not have the same experiences that I, and almost every other teenage girl, have had.

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