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The hardest thing I ever did was telling my parents I was pregnant. I was seventeen, and barely in my second year of college. I had a boyfriend, who was supportive of the pregnancy, and came home with me to tell the family, but I knew neither of my parents particularly liked him, especially my father. Then again, he never really liked any boy who dated his youngest daughter.

The toughest part for me was breaking the news to my father that I wasn't his little girl anymore. Mothers always seem to know when their kids become sexually active, but dads just don't have the same kind of radar, and particularly where daughters are concerned, they walk around wearing blinders. I can honestly say I don't know if my dad was more surprised that I was pregnant or that I was no longer a virgin. Either way, having to fess up to him broke my heart. My situation was made even more difficult by the fact that all of us, except my then boyfriend, knew deep down that he was not my dream partner.

However, my own father's reaction to the entire situation I believe represents the best way a father can deal with a teen daughter's pregnancy. Surprisingly, he didn't yell, or threaten to kill the father, or even clench his jaw while his temple throbbed in anger. (If you're a daughter, you know the look I mean.) Instead, he waited for us to explain our plans, and then offered his support. Certainly he wasn't thrilled with the idea, but he knew that I had every intention of having the child, and that I was trying to make the best decision for all involved.

My father spent the next few months in the background as the women planned not only for the first grandchild, but also a wedding. I lived a few hours away from home, but he would call and check in with me every couple days. Every time I would come home for a weekend, there would be some new baby item awaiting me. Dad even built a changing table for me, which I've kept all these years even though I've never and had no intentions of having another child. Whether he did this out of kindness, or as a way to vent his frustration, I don't really know. And when my then husband made the call one Sunday morning to tell my parents that we were at the hospital and my water had just broken, he drove like a seasoned Nascar driver to get there before his first grandson was born.

As expected, my impromptu and less than ideal marriage ended just a few months after my son was born. When I showed up on my parents' doorstep, unemployed, broke, and with a five month old baby in tow, they opened their arms once again. My father became my babysitter, and continued to serve in that capacity until my son started pre-school. Even now, my son spends his days during the summer "working with Grandpa", and thanks to him, my son knows how to do simple carpentry work, how to use all kinds of lawn equipment, even basic plumbing and electrical work.

The biggest advice, therefore, that I can give to any father dealing with a pregnant teen daughter, is to simply be there for her. Support her in whatever decisions she makes, and even if she stumbles along the way, take hold of her hand, brush her off, and help her back up on her feet.

Learn more about this author, Nichole Nash.
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