Homeless with a newborn

Following on from one of my previous posts ‘Being a teenage Mum’ I wanted to write a bit about what happened after I was made homeless.

May 31st 2007.

10 days after my sweet 16th.

As some of you may know, I was kicked out of the house by my Mum and made the journey to the local council with as many belongings as I could carry -by foot, with my 6 week old daughter. While all of my friends were revising hard for the rest of our GCSE exams, I was being interviewed by countless Council staff about my homelessness. I couldn’t even tell you where my revision books were at this point. After a long day of waiting, I was given the keys to the hostel that I was to call “home” for the next 3 weeks. I won’t go into detail as to how shocking this place was, but let’s just say it was not a place to house women and children. (See 'being a teenage Mum' post for more detailed description on the hostel conditions)

June 15th 2007 All my friends were getting ready to go to prom, while I was sat in my hostel -breastfeeding Faith. The headteacher from my previous School (not my young Mum’s school) had denied me entry.

Why?

I guess he didn’t want the embarrassment.

Technically, I should have been able to go as I was still a pupil there. I had been returning once a week to attend my German lessons as it was not offered at the new School (for Young Mum’s). I remember feeling so sad about it as it was the one event I had looked forward to ever since starting year 7 and I had been denied the privilege.

After breastfeeding Faith, I got ready to drop her off to my Mum’s. I had been invited to the after party by one of my School friends, so I at least got to enjoy part of the prom experience. My Mum had offered to look after Faith and I had spent most of the day painfully expressing breastmilk from my cracked nipples. I had been struggling with breastfeeding as I had completely lost my appetite following on from giving birth. So producing enough breastmilk was a problem and at the time I wasn’t aware of any support that I could get or what I could do to improve the situation. This was before googling info was a thing.

As much as I was glad to be back in the company of my original school friends, I couldn’t help but feel left out. I didn’t get to see them as much as I would have liked and missed out on so much ‘final year bonding.’ While all my peers were celebrating the end of an era and looking forward to the future. I was thinking about not staying out too late to make sure I could get back in time for Faith’s feed as I had only left enough milk for 2 feeds. I almost felt like I didn’t belong there because I was in such a different place to everyone else.

Friday 22nd June 2007 I received a call from someone in the Council. They wanted me to go and view a Mother and baby unit. For those who don’t know this was a unit that offered housing and support for young Mums. So basically, it was a giant house full of about 8 different young Mums living there, who were monitored by the staff to see how they coped with Motherhood. The idea was you were to stay there for a few months - supported by the staff, then once the staff approved/deemed you ready, you could then be housed in a place of your own. I HATED the idea of it. Someone watching how I was parenting and scrutinising every little thing?

No thanks.

I knew of a girl who was staying in one and she had so many problems with some of the other young Mums there. A close family member of mine was also in one and she wasn’t keen. A house full of hormonal teenage girls...I couldn’t think of anything worse.

I went to visit and just knew it wasn’t for me. Although I was just 16, I did not feel at the time, that it was somewhere I would be happy. I remember walking around and the girls living there being so unwelcoming and the vibe being so off. It was a no from me. However, I didn’t have a choice. I had to fill out some forms and the lady who had showed me around said I would be moving in on the Monday. So in 3 days I was to move in to this place that would potentially be my home for the next year. I was devastated. I went back to my hostel and packed up my things in preparation for Monday’s move.

Monday 25th June 2007 I woke up miserable. Although I was happy to be moving out of the sh*tty hostel I was living in, I wasn’t happy about where I was going. I went downstairs to inform the receptionist I was leaving to go, when they told me I had a letter from the Council. I rolled my eyes. Any letter from them so far had only been things like ‘How to pay your rent’ or ‘Housing benefit & Council Tax application forms’ and I just couldn’t comprehend it all. After all, I had just had a baby weeks ago and was sitting my GCSE’s after being made homeless! It was a lot. The letter had been sitting there for a few days, but had only just been brought to my attention. I reluctantly opened it then and there. After reading it, I couldn’t stop beaming.

I had been offered a 2 bedroom flat in Croydon and I was to go and view it that same day.

But wait? What about the Mum and baby unit? I called the Housing department as it suddenly dawned on me that the letter could have been sent in error. When I asked the Housing lady what I was to do about the Mum and baby unit, she sounded confused. So I quickly moved on from that and arranged a time to collect the keys.

I called J (Faith’s Dad) to tell him and he was so excited. Even though he had been too busy doing other things, than to visit us in the hostel, I felt this was a new beginning for the 3 of us.

When we arrived outside the building, I cried my eyes out. I had been placed in a tower block on a tiny estate. My worst nightmare. Luckily, I wasn’t up too high (I’m afraid of heights) but things only got worse as I unlocked the front door. The flat was in such poor condition, it was not even liveable (if that’s even a word). There wasn’t any flooring down in any of the bedrooms, just those awful Council floor tiles splattered in paint. Upon entering the flat, there was a narrow hallway with a deep red paint, resembling blood that made you feel the walls were closing in on you. The living room had a cheap laminate down with numerous cigarette burns in and it smelt like stale smoke and paint in there.

On the positive side, there were nice big windows in the living room and both bedrooms were doubles. I also had a little balcony big enough for 3 chairs.

I hated it, but beggars can’t be choosers. I was just grateful that Faith and I had a roof over our heads and our own space. We no longer had to live amongst the drug users from the hostel any longer, nor pass needles on the stairs. We didn’t have to go to the Mum and baby unit and have our every move watched and noted. We didn’t have to share a bathroom with dirty people who would leave period blood on the toilet seats and smear faeces on the wall. We could wash together in our new clean bath/shower and then dry off in our own bedrooms. We could make use of our own kitchen, instead of microwaving meals.

The mother and baby unit called me that afternoon asking where I was. I explained I had been offered a flat and they told me that had been done in error. It was too late by this point. I had already signed all the paperwork. The flat was mine to move in to. The flat was so sh*tty, but it was to be our home for the next 4 years.

I was 16, with a 9 week old baby, had just competed my GCSE’s and was about to move in to my own place.

It was the start of our new lives..

#ATouchOfFate