“Can I drive her home? I’d like to try to stay in touch with her.”
The house mom at a local maternity home where I served had let me know that after a few weeks there, Nina was leaving. I had been trying to build a relationship with her, but there were obstacles.
Nina had reluctantly come to the home after finding out she was pregnant. After a few weeks, she decided she would rather be at her aunt’s house even though things were hard there. All the other ladies at the maternity home were over 18 and she was just approaching her 16th birthday. Or so she thought. No one really knew exactly when she was born. At the maternity home and at her aunt’s, she felt like she didn’t belong, but that was nothing new.
Nina was born on an unknown day in a village in Africa. As an infant, she was placed in an orphanage. A few years later, she was taken from the orphanage by her aunt and brought to the United States to escape war, crime and poverty. Soon after arriving at the airport, Child Protective Services took her and placed her in foster care because she had no proof of identity.
She later received an assigned birthday of January 1, 2001.
After a few very hard years in foster care, being over medicated and mistreated, her aunt was able to gain custody and provide a home from age nine until we met in 2018. CPS had contacted the maternity home due to an investigation that her aunt was food shaming her and there was not enough food made available to her.
Amira’s House had not opened yet but had some resources to begin helping. Hoping to stay connected with her after she left the other home, I offered to be the one to drive her back to her aunt’s house and she let me. The ride was quiet.
As we pulled up, I asked her if I could help her through the pregnancy. I offered to take her to her doctor’s appointments and handed her my business card. She quietly thanked me for the ride and stepped out of the car without an answer. A few days later, I got a call from an unknown number. Softly she asked,
“Ms. Rene. Can you take me next week?”
That spring, we went to each appointment and made a day of it, stopping for food after and then making a much needed trip to the grocery store for items that were just for her. When she was about seven months pregnant, she let me know she was sleeping on the floor, while her younger cousins shared a bed. Our team pulled together to provide a bed and other essentials to get her through the rest of her pregnancy.
When it came time for her son to be born, she asked, “Ms. Rene’, would you be there when he is born? Would you be there with me AND my Auntie?”
We did just that. We all three worked as a team in that room and our first ministry baby was born that summer.
Several months later Nina met a young man who she moved to Kansas City to live with.
Although I did not agree with her decision, and definitely did not want her to go, I didn’t judge or shame her. Choosing connection without judgment helped keep the communications lines open. I did worry about losing contact with her, so I wrote my number down in the back of a devotion book so she would always have it.
Later that summer, around the time Amira’s House opened, I began receiving short concerning calls from her. She told me he had become abusive and was making her do things she did not want to and hurting her “in every way.”
Our team agreed to go to Kansas City, Missouri to pick her up but she was still just seventeen so we could not allow her to live there as a minor. We arranged for her to stay with a friend of the ministry, and she agreed. Shortly after getting settled in there, she went back to him.
A few months passed and she called again. He had crushed her phone and shoved her down in the front yard while holding the baby. She had hidden the devotion book in the back of the closet and called to let me know it was getting worse and she wanted out.
We made plans to put her on a bus to Dallas. My sister, who lived in Kansas City, Missouri bravely agreed to meet her at the gas station and get her and the baby safely to the bus station. Plans were in place to have police escort at the station should the abuser come there.
The pickup did not go as planned. He interfered, ramming my sister’s car before he ultimately got arrested. Police then helped my sister, Nina and sweet baby boy to the bus station. I was waiting at the Dallas station when she arrived.
As she got her things into the car, she turned to me and said, “Ms. Rene. I have some news. I found out I am having his baby.”
My heart sank. All life is a gift. But honestly, I did not want her to have this kind of connection with him. I was hoping this would be a clean break from him and worried about how this would impact her in the immediate future. It would be critical to educate her more on patterns of abuse and pray that all she’s learned about her value would help her choose well when it came to him. I did not want to see her go back again.
After she got some rest, we took her to a domestic violence shelter because we were full. She later decided to move in with her brother and not long after that stopped returning my calls. I thought of and worried about her often. After three years of connection, I had no way to reach her.
Then, 18 months later, I opened my Marco Polo app one day and saw that she had been active. I sent her a quick video message and went to sleep. I woke up on Valentine’s Day to a sweet message that showed just how far she had come. A precious video revealing a legacy of love.
Our journey with Nina taught us many things. First and foremost, that their individual needs are as unique as their stories, yet they all need the love and grace that only God can give. She and her son will always be dear to us as our very first mama and baby served.
