Being a privileged 21-year-old girl who has her dream full-time job, an apartment and a car, I was overwhelmed when I received my first email about the Pregnant Mothers Ministry in Kenya.
Each girl had a story to tell. Beatrice Muthoni was the first name on the list. When I saw “Age:16”, I could feel my stomach turning. 16? She’s 5 years younger than me. Almost in a state of panic, I scrolled down the page to see the other girl’s profiles, 17, 21, 18, 19, 14, 21, 18, 18, 17. Horrified, I began to read each story individually, and with each story brought more tears to my eyes, and a stronger passion in my heart to help these girls. Every story different, but every story the same.
 Beatrice had been a sex worker since she was 15, just trying to make enough money to feed herself while living with her mother in the slum. When she got pregnant, she could hardly feed herself, she certainly couldn’t feed a baby. Twice she had unsuccessful abortions. |
 Angeline is an 18-year-old girl who was raped in her own home. After, her rapist threatened to kill her if she ever spoke of it. Terrified and traumatized, Angeline did not leave her house for over a month. She hated her rapist, herself, and her baby. Angeline attempted suicide twice, and abortion once- all unsuccessful. |
 Celeste is 21 and she was raped by a gangster, which left her feeling hopeless, dirty and broken. In her family, it is considered unthinkable and a curse to keep a baby which is a product of rape. She called what she thought was an abortion clinic, but instead, she called us. |
Although every girl’s story is different, they are all so similar. As I read their stories, I sat safely behind my desk, with such horrors not even seeming possible to me, but they were such a common occurrence among these young girls. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I read that every single one of them became pregnant out of rape or desperation. I read that each girl can hardly afford to feed herself, let alone her baby. But, every girl also saw our sign that reads “Don’t throw away your baby” and they called for help.
My tears changed, they went from a broken heart for these girls to tears of joy. Joy because each one of these mothers chose life in such a pivotal moment in their lives. They decided to step out in faith, believing God would provide for them and their baby! They saw that not only their babies lives were valuable, but their own lives were too.
The Mother’s Ministry became my main focus and prayer. That each one of them would deliver happy, healthy babies, and each one of them would be sponsored and taken care of. They were precious miracles, all of their lives spared from abortion or being thrown in the dump, they were amazing. I am the Sponsorship Coordinator here at Home of Hope, so legitimately it is my job to help get these babies sponsored, but it was also a personal desire to see these women and their babies taken care of. My desire became to do them justice for the injustices done to them.
When the babies were born I was making a Facebook post about them, trying to find the words to truly do each of the babies justice. Then, Karissa said “Miracle Babies!! Call them miracle babies, because that is what they are!”. Of course, they were miracles, but when she said it, it clicked, and it was so perfect.
Today, each of these miracle babies are happy, healthy, and being taken care of by their mothers!
Each of these babies is alive, loved, and a miracle. All because of Home of Hope and sponsors.
“Because you [God] love me very much, you did not let me die…” (Isaiah 38:17)
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Article written by: Hillary Werle