Even though I was sixteen,
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 myself) 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 that I *had* to and I’ve struggled along the way
but when I look at my sweet “baby” boy,
I’m so glad that
I kept my baby.
**This story was written by Whitney Ballard of Trains and Tantrums. You can follow her journey on Facebook and Instagram.
