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Let me tell you a story about a teen mom

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Let me tell you a story about a teen mom. She’d never so much as changed a diaper. Her senior classmates would ask to touch her growing belly.

She packed a coming-home outfit in a hospital bag and painted her fingernails blue. With polkadots.

She wore a hospital gown before her cap & gown and spent Spring Break in a sleepless newborn blur.

Let me tell you a story about a teen mom.


The whole community showed up to her baby shower. She didn’t have to buy those diapers she learned to change.

Her dad stood behind her. And when she brought that baby into the world, her mom stood beside her.

Her friends gushed over ultrasound pictures and baby shoes; friends filled her hospital room.

Her school tweaked her schedule so that she could take classes online and be with her baby without dropping out.

Let me tell you a story about a teen mom—

She wanted so badly to be ready to parent a child by herself, but she wasn’t.

She wanted so badly to be able to provide everything for her baby, but she couldn’t.

She wanted so badly to know what to do, but she didn’t.

And because she couldn’t, other people stepped in—other people whose responsibility was not her baby.

They stepped in simply because they could.

While she carried a new life, they carried her.

They carried HER.

I could tell you a different story about a teen mom.

I could tell you about the awkwardness and the side-eye and the guilt she felt.

I could tell you about the under-the-breath comments and the stares.

I could tell you about the doubt.

Boy, could I tell you.

But this amazing thing happens when you fill someone’s heart with so much positivity—

the rest becomes white noise.

White noise.

I sometimes wonder—

What if more young moms could tell this story?

What if we shared her weight and carried her?

What if instead of pointing her head to the ground, we pointed her eyes toward God?

What if?

And then, just maybe

one day, she’d carry someone else.

Maybe she’d have a good story to tell.

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