I looked across the room and I saw her standing there. She was a pretty little thing. Wispy brown hair and bangs cut across her forehead in the way that mothers often cut their own daughter's hair. Dressed in jogging pants and matching sweatshirt, she appeared young and maybe even a bit naive. As she looked up I expected to meet eyes that were bright, maybe filled with ambition for the life that she had ahead of her. Instead I met with sad, listless eyes that had lost something along the way.
It was then that I noticed her hands protectively wrapped around her midsection. Even in this day and age I couldn't help but feel surprised. Here was this girl, this young girl (barely a teenager) in the midst of a pregnancy... Did she know how much love, heartache and tears were involved in mothering a child? Did she have someone who would be there with her, supporting her and encouraging her when times were tough? Was she going to drop out of school to have her child? Did her parents still support her? All these questions flooded my mind and I felt a wave of sadness overcome me. I silently prayed for her well being, for the well being of her baby and wondered why this girl that I didn't even know had such an effect on me.
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