Making my way across a murky canal in Tonsuya, Malabon, I spotted one of the houses where Diane*, a 25-year-old mother of three, greeted me with a bright smile, her five-month-old son balanced in one arm. 

As Diane settled into our conversation, her youngest latched on to her while her second son stood in front of us, restlessly calling for her attention. “[By] the age of 15 nabuntis ako. Pero hindi siya natuloy,” she said, still trying to make her 3-year-old son silent. Diane had her first child at 18 and got pregnant two other times since then.

Diane’s story, however, is not an isolated case but a systemic issue. The Philippines had 32 births per 1,000 women aged 15 to 19 in 2022, one of the highest rates in Southeast Asia, according to the World Bank. Neighboring countries such as Malaysia and Indonesia, had six and 27, respectively. 

Little to no access to sex education exposes many women like Diane to early childbearing, keeping them trapped in cycles of unwanted pregnancies and uncertain futures.

Lost Youth 

Diane’s experiences mirrored those of many young women in the Philippines, shaped by the shame surrounding topics of sex, which are considered taboo at home and in school. Without formal sex education, Diane was left to learn from friends and her then-boyfriend, whom she met at 13.

As a first-year high school student, Diane knew little about the risks of adolescent pregnancy. Out of fear, she followed a friend's advice and underwent an abortion, borrowing around P4,000 to pay for it. The severity of her blood loss over the week that followed forced her to seek hospital care, an outcome Diane desperately tried to avoid to keep the abortion a secret from her family.

In the Philippines, 220 out of 100,000 women die from unsafe abortions, per a World Health Organization (WHO) report. Despite being illegal, annual induced abortions were projected to reach at least 1.26 million in 2020, with 72% of mothers citing the overwhelming economic burden of raising a child as their primary reason. Other women choose to keep their babies, fearing death from unsafe abortions, one of the leading causes of maternal deaths. 

In the barangay across from Diane was 17-year-old Kiray*, who got pregnant and kept her baby at the age of 15. Kiray had just come from school when I met her at the office of Likhaan, a nongovernmental organization advocating for the health and equality of women and marginalized groups. 

It was never part of Kiray’s plans to be a mother before pursuing her dream of becoming a seafarer. But she felt pressured by her 19-year-old boyfriend, who desired to start a family at a young age. In 2020, 59.5% of adolescent pregnancies involved fathers over 20 years old, according to the Philippine Statistics Authority. 

“[It] implies that something is going on in terms of whether these girls were able to have an equal decision-making with their partners, or it can also suggest some sort of coercion [in terms] of the age and gender dynamics,” said Lavinia Oliveros, comprehensive sexuality education coordinator at United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA) - Philippines. 

The pressure of becoming a mother was not the only weight Kiray had to carry. Despite her hesitations, Kiray still enrolled in senior high school while being eight months pregnant, ultimately staying only because her boyfriend insisted she finish high school. Though college is beyond their means at the moment, she still beamed while sharing her dream to finish college one day.

Young mothers like Kiray and Diane often have to give up their aspirations of enjoying their youth,  finishing school, and getting their dream jobs. “Yung kabataan ko, hindi ko siya na-enjoy. … Nakakainggit yung nararanasan [ng iba na nakapagtapos],” said Diane. 

Multiple Burdens   

Each girl who leaves school due to pregnancy represents a loss, not just to herself but to the country’s economic potential. UNFPA estimated that early pregnancy costs adolescent mothers around P33 billion in potential lifetime earnings. 

Diane recalls having to exit and enter jobs to support her family. While her husband struggled with finding a stable job, she returned to waitressing just three months after giving birth, paying neighbors P100 daily to watch her children. Her experience highlights gaps in maternity protections despite the 105-Day Expanded Maternity Leave Law, which grants extended leave to women in formal and informal work. Mothers like Diane, however, face barriers such as a lack of employer support, forcing them to return to work out of financial necessity. 

As we looked at her unfinished three-story house, Diane shared that they could only afford to finish constructing the first floor, leaving the two upper floors uninhabitable. 

“Hindi ko pinagsisihan na nagkaroon ako ng mga anak. Kahit ganito kahirap yung buhay,” said Diane. The only thing she wished she had done was finish her education first, believing it would have prepared her for different responsibilities, including raising a family. 

For mothers like Diane and Kiray, comprehensive sexuality education (CSE) is not a controversial topic, as they believe its contents could shape younger women to become more responsible on the subject of sex. 

As an advocate for CSE, Kiray pulled out a photo of herself at a rally, defending the curriculum from the attacks of conservative groups who stigmatize sex education. One of these organizations, Project Dalisay, a coalition that advocates for the sanctity of the Filipino family, has weaponized fear, fueling misconceptions that CSE encourages promiscuity rather than equipping students with life-saving knowledge.

“Hindi totoo na yung CSE promotes early sexual independence. It is proven that it delays sexual initiation, and for those adolescents who are already sexually active, they are also proven to reduce sexual activities,” said UNFPA coordinator Oliveros. She stresses that while families instill core values, CSE and the Adolescent Pregnancy Prevention Bill provide essential, science-based knowledge to complement parental guidance.

Nurtured Futures 

With birth rates rising among mothers under 15, there is a need to implement CSE for age-appropriate sexual health education and the Adolescent Pregnancy Prevention Bill to reduce teen pregnancies through education and social support. Although the Department of Education has integrated CSE into the K-12 curriculum, implementations remain vague due to persistent stigma and a lack of teacher training, said Oliveros. 

To enforce CSE effectively, dialogues between educational institutions and parents, as children’s primary educators, must be prioritized when discussing the lessons outlined in the curriculum. Equally important is the proper training of teachers to ensure they can achieve the learning outcomes expected from CSE, according to Oliveros. 

The proper implementation of CSE and the passage of the Adolescent Pregnancy Prevention bill would mark a critical shift—one that acknowledges young people’s right to sex education, health care, and bodily autonomy. It would ensure that girls like Diane and Kiray are not just mistakes to learn from but individuals empowered to have agency over their futures.

Diane and Kiray’s experiences have shown their strength as young mothers, but these struggles should not be theirs to bear alone. They hope that lawmakers will finally hear their pleas, ensuring that their children can one day enjoy the opportunities they never had. ●

*Not their real names. They asked the Collegian to conceal their real names due to the sensitive nature of the article.

First published in the March 31, 2025, print edition of the Collegian.