I kept my baby.

Even though I was 16.

Even though I didn’t know how I would.

I kept my baby.

Even when everyone told me “kids shouldn’t have kids”.

Or that I’d “ruin my life”.

I kept my baby.

I knew some would think I slept around.

That I was promiscuous.

I knew that girls would talk.

And boys would listen.

But I still kept my baby.

I knew there was a pill that could “take it all away’.

“My ‘problems’ could be gone tomorrow if I just took it today.”

But I knew that was a lie anyway.

So I kept my baby.

And because I kept my baby, it’s assumed I hate everyone who made a different choice.

I don’t.

I love them.

And I know how scared they were.

Because I was, too.

I know how these girls (and I) were misinformed when we were told it’s impossible.

It’s not.

I knew it would take a lot of trust and big faith when I kept my baby.

But when I did, this crazy thing happened.

It didn’t even ruin my life.

Not in any way.

Now I have a baby and a family.

I have a baby and a college degree.

I have a husband and even more babies.

I’ve raised a baby and still chased my own dreams.

So yes, I’ve done some things the hard way and I’ve grown up faster than I had to and I’ve struggled along the way.

But when I look at my sweet “baby” boy

I’m so glad I kept my baby.

Originally published on Trains and Tantrums by Whitney Ballard

Whitney Ballard

Whitney Ballard is a writer and mom advocate from small town Alabama. She owns the Trains and Tantrums blog, where she writes about motherhood, marriage, mental health, and more. Whitney went from becoming a mom at sixteen to holing a Master’s degree; she writes about that journey, along with daily life, through a Christian lens. When she’s not writing while on her porch swing or cheering/yelling at the ballpark, you’ll find her in the backyard with her husband, two boys, and two dogs.