The hopeful decline in the number of teen mothers in the United States

JENNINGS, Missouri — Brittnee Marsaw’s mother was 15 when she was born in St. Louis, Missouri, and she was raised by a grandmother who had given birth to her even younger. Nearly a teenager by the time her mother was able to support her, Marsaw moved in with her, but never found the bond he was looking for, calling teenage births of previous generations “the family curse.”

Ana Álvarez was born in Guatemala to a teenage mother who later left to find work in the United States. After years of futilely waiting for her return, Álvarez made the same risky journey, becoming an undocumented teenager in Washington to reunite with her mother she barely knew.

Hurt by the struggles of their teenage mothers, Marsaw and Alvarez swore unusually consciously not to become teenage mothers. And both say that putting off motherhood gave them — and now their children — a better chance of success.

Their decisions highlight profound shifts in two related forces that shape how opportunities are passed on or impeded from one generation to the next.

Teen pregnancies have fallen by more than three-quarters in the past 30 years in the United States, a change of such unlikely magnitude that experts struggle to explain it. Child poverty also plummeted, raising a question: Does reducing teen pregnancy reduce child poverty, or does reducing child poverty reduce teen pregnancy?

Although both may be true, it is not clear which dominates. One theory holds that reducing teen pregnancy reduces child poverty by allowing women to finish school, start careers, and form mature relationships. Another says progress is going the other way: reducing child poverty reduces teen pregnancy, as teens who see opportunities have reasons to avoid getting pregnant.

Marsaw, who waited until she was 24 to give birth — a daughter, Zaharii — embraces both views. She said teen pregnancy and child poverty reinforce each other, adding: “If you escape one, you have a better chance of escaping the other.”

Teen pregnancies in the United States have declined at roughly equal rates among white, Hispanic, and black teens. Thirty years ago, a quarter of 15-year-old girls became mothers before they turned 20, according to Child Trends, a research group that studies child well-being. Today, only 6 percent do.

Contraceptive use has increased and shifted toward more reliable methods, and teen sex has declined. Public campaigns and popular culture messages may have played a role. But many researchers argue that the change reflects something more fundamental: a growing sense of possibility among low-income young women, whose income and education have grown faster than their male counterparts.

“They’re going to school and seeing new career paths open,” said Melissa S. Kearney, an economist at the University of Maryland. “Whether they’re excited about their own opportunities or feel like their male partners leave them no choice, it leads them in the same direction—not to become young mothers.”

Marsaw, 29, and Álvarez, 34, each offer a study of why teen pregnancies are declining and how that might affect upward mobility.

Álvarez felt abandoned even before her mother left Guatemala. Her mother, 19 and single when she had her second baby, left the family farm to work in the city. After having more children, a woman she met at a clinic offered to adopt one. Álvarez was first surprised that they gave it away and then claimed it months later. Then her mother went to Washington.

Álvarez dropped out of school after the fourth year of elementary school to help take care of his younger siblings. For her 15th birthday, she asked her mother to hire a smuggler to take her north. To Álvarez’s surprise, her mother was married and she had another child.

Although she started high school as a Spanish-speaking undocumented migrant with a fourth-year education, Álvarez was a good student. A counselor at a clinic told her that she could get a college scholarship.

“I realized that if I got pregnant, I wouldn’t go to college,” she said.

Álvarez considered that abstinence was safer than contraception. In her third year of high school, a suitor named Fredy, who worked as a cook, asked her to move in with him. He was seven years older, funny, and supportive, and she needed a place to stay. But she stopped taking her calls. She graduated from high school at age 20 on a college scholarship.

Marsaw’s grandmother raised her in a household with a dozen aunts, uncles and cousins, while her mother came and went, ending her teens with a second child.

His mother moved to Atlanta, Georgia to work as a medical technician. Marsaw followed her, but she was frustrated by her mother’s long working hours. She identified the cause of her mother’s struggles—teenage motherhood—and vowed to avoid it. When she was in her early 20s, she followed her mother to Texas, got a job at an indoor amusement park, and dated a man who parked cars. She stopped using birth control thinking “if it happens, it won’t be a crisis.” She gave birth at age 24, almost nine years after her mother.

However, difficulties continued. Their relationship ended. She returned to St. Louis. She and Zaharii, 5, have lived in at least seven places — eight, counting when they slept in a car. As an anti-poverty strategy, postponing childbearing was not foolproof. Still, she sees benefits in waiting. She is more “emotionally intelligent” as a mother, she said, more job-savvy and more resilient.

He obtained a commercial driver’s license. She drives a child care van and bought a small house. Her mother sometimes helps her and her relationship has improved.

Álvarez transitioned to the University of the District of Columbia. In her sophomore year, she boarded a city bus and ran into Fredy, who had chased her in high school. She married him shortly before giving birth at the age of 23. Working two jobs, it took her six years to earn a bachelor’s degree and then she began working at the clinic that had encouraged her to seek scholarships. With a household income above the national average, she and her husband recently purchased a home.

“If I die tomorrow, I can say that I have achieved the American dream,” Alvarez said. “But if I had gotten pregnant as a teenager? I’m not sure, but I don’t think so.”

“If you escape from one, you have a better chance of escaping from the other.” Brittnee Marsaw

On adolescent pregnancy and poverty.

By: Jason Deparle