My Mother Kicked Me Out of the Church for Getting Pregnant Out of Wedlock

The day I revealed my pregnancy in church started with morning sickness and ended with my mother disowning me. But what happened next made my mother change her decision.

I’m a sophomore in college studying psychology, and that’s where I met Glenn last fall. We started out as study buddies in our Intro to Research Methods class, but there was something special about him from day one.

He had this gentle way of explaining complex topics that made everything click, and his smile? It could light up the whole lecture hall.

A boy smiling | Source: Midjourney

A boy smiling | Source: Midjourney

“Faith, you’re starin’ again,” he’d tease me during our study sessions, and I’d feel my cheeks burn red every single time.

“Can’t help it if you’re distracting,” I’d shoot back, and we’d both laugh like we had the best secret in the world.

We went from sharing coffee after class to spending hours at the campus diner. We’d pick at endless plates of waffle fries while sharing our life stories.

A girl sitting in a cafeteria | Source: Midjourney

A girl sitting in a cafeteria | Source: Midjourney

Glenn told me a bit about his family and how he enjoyed playing in the fields as a kid. Meanwhile, I opened up about losing my dad when I was five. That’s when things started shifting from friendship to something more.

“Your dad would be so proud of you,” Glenn said one evening, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. “Following your dreams, helping people through psychology…”

A boy talking to his girlfriend | Source: Midjourney

A boy talking to his girlfriend | Source: Midjourney

The first time he kissed me on the porch swing outside my mama’s house, I swear I saw stars. But when I told Mama about Glenn, she just pressed her lips together and said, “That’s nice, sugar. Don’t forget you’ve got that big exam coming up.”

That’s my mama, Claudia, for you. Since Daddy passed, she’s thrown herself into two things: raising me and adoring nature.

Never dated, and never seemed interested in finding love again.

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

Sometimes I catch her looking at Daddy’s photo on the mantle with such longing that it breaks my heart. I wish she’d give herself permission to be happy again, but we don’t have the kind of relationship where I can say that.

“Mama,” I tried once, “don’t you ever get lonely?”

“I’ve got you,” she replied, smoothing down her skirt. “That’s all the company I need.”

Everything was sailing smoothly until that morning I woke up feeling too sick.

Sunlight passing through curtains | Source: Pexels

Sunlight passing through curtains | Source: Pexels

I swear I couldn’t even move, and the thought of having breakfast nearly made me puke.

Oh no… I thought. The nausea, the fatigue… Does it mean I’m pregnant?

That was the first thing that came to my mind because Glenn and I got intimate a few weeks earlier.

I was super scared, and my hands were trembling so bad I could barely open the drawer where I’d hidden the pregnancy tests.

“Please, please, please,” I whispered, watching that little window. “Please tell me I’m wrong!”

But two pink lines appeared clear as day, and my world tilted sideways.

A girl holding a pregnancy test | Source: Pexels

A girl holding a pregnancy test | Source: Pexels

I sank down onto my bathroom floor while my heart pounded inside my chest.

“This can’t be happening,” I muttered, staring at the test. “I’m only nineteen. I can’t have a baby. I can’t…”

A few minutes later, I found myself pacing the bedroom.

“How am I gonna hide this from Mama?” I asked myself. “She’ll never understand. A baby? Out of wedlock? In our family?”

I think I talked to myself for almost an hour while different scenarios played out in my mind. All of them resulted in my mother not speaking to me.

I was certain she’d never accept my baby.

A girl standing in her bedroom | Source: Midjourney

A girl standing in her bedroom | Source: Midjourney

I spent the next few days hiding in my room, coming up with every excuse I could think of to avoid facing Mama.

“Faith, honey! Dinner’s ready!” she called out one evening.

“Sorry, Mama, got this huge psychology paper due tomorrow,” I shouted back. “I’ll grab something later!”

The next morning, she knocked on my door. “Baby girl, I made your favorite pancakes.”

“Thanks, but I already ate a granola bar. Got an early study group meeting,” I lied, feeling guilty about the growing pile of excuses.

A girl talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney

A girl talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney

That evening, she tried again. “Faith? Mrs. Jones brought over her famous casserole…”

“Got finals coming up, Mama. Need to focus!” I called out.

By Thursday, Mama wasn’t having it anymore. She marched right up to my room and stood in the doorway.

“Now hold on just a minute,” she said, fixing me with that mom-stare that could melt steel. “Since when do you skip my pancake breakfasts? And don’t think I haven’t noticed you running to the bathroom every morning.”

A woman looking at her daughter | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking at her daughter | Source: Midjourney

“Just stressed about exams,” I mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

“Uh-huh,” she said, clearly unconvinced. “And I suppose stress is also why you haven’t touched your coffee in days? The same coffee you swear you can’t live without?”

“My study group suggested cutting back on caffeine.”

“My dear Faith,” Mama said slowly, “in all your years of schooling, I’ve never seen you skip meals during finals. Something’s going on with you, and we both know it ain’t just studying.”

But before she could press further, I grabbed my backpack. “Sorry, Mama, I’m late for the library. Group project!”

A girl looking at her mother | Source: Midjourney

A girl looking at her mother | Source: Midjourney

I practically ran down the stairs, leaving her standing there with that worried look I’d been trying so hard to avoid.

The following Sunday, Mama called up to my room, “Faith, honey! We’re gonna be late for service!”

“Coming!” I called back, fighting another wave of nausea. “Maybe I should skip today…”

“Skip church? Are you feeling poorly?” Mama appeared in my doorway.

“Just a little tired,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Been studying real hard.”

A girl looking away while talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney

A girl looking away while talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney

“You’ve been ‘tired’ all week,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “Something you want to tell me?”

“No ma’am,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

The church was packed that morning, all our neighbors dressed in their Sunday best.

Mrs. Jones was wearing her famous pink hat, and Mr. Rodriguez had his grandkids with him. Everything was fine until halfway through the sermon when that familiar nausea hit me.

I must’ve turned green because Mama grabbed my hand.

A woman sitting in a church | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting in a church | Source: Midjourney

“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” she whispered, her eyes narrowing. “Come to think of it, you’ve been actin’ strange all week…”

Maybe it was the guilt, or maybe it was just those pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Mom, I have something to tell you,” I whispered back, tears welling up. “I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed felt eternal. Mama’s face went through about fifty different emotions in three seconds flat.

“What?” she gasped, loud enough for several heads to turn. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

A woman sitting in a church, looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting in a church, looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

“No, I’m not joking,” I managed, my voice trembling. “I’m pregnant, and it’s Glenn’s.”

That’s when Mama lost it. She stood up and started yelling at me.

“Get out of the church right now!” she hissed. “Go home, pack your things, and don’t come back to my house! How could you do this? Did you even think about what our family and friends would say? Do you not know the traditions and values we hold!? Get out of my sight!”

A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney

I quickly stood up and began walking away while my tears blurred my vision. I could see how Mrs. Jones was staring at me with wide eyes.

But before I could reach the door, a familiar voice called out.

“Stop right there, young lady.”

It was Pastor James, and he was looking at my mother with the kind of stern expression I’d seen him use during particularly passionate sermons.

A priest looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A priest looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

“Claudia,” he said gently, walking down the aisle toward us, “would you abandon your daughter when she needs you the most? Isn’t this the time to show love and forgiveness?”

“But she’s having a child out of wedlock!” Mama protested. “I never—”

“That shouldn’t be an issue, Claudia,” Pastor James interrupted softly. “Sometimes the greatest blessings come in unexpected packages. Remember, Claudia, when your husband passed away, this congregation wrapped their arms around you and Faith. Shouldn’t we do the same now?”

A priest talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney

A priest talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney

Those words changed Mama’s thoughts. She looked at me and then burst into tears.

The next thing I knew, we were hugging right there in the middle of the church, both of us crying while the congregation pretended not to watch.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl,” she whispered into my hair. “I was just scared for you. I know how hard it is raising a child alone…”

“I’m not alone, Mama,” I said. “I have Glenn, and I have you… if you’ll still have me?”

But the story doesn’t end here.

A girl smiling | Source: Midjourney

A girl smiling | Source: Midjourney

A few days later, Mama insisted on meeting Glenn and his family.

“Time to do this properly,” she said, straightening my collar like I was still a little girl. “No more secrets.”

Glenn drove us to his place.

“You nervous?” I asked Glenn as we pulled up to his house.

“A little,” he admitted, squeezing my hand. “But it’s time our families met.”

You won’t believe what happened next. We pulled up to this beautiful house, and who opened the door? Pastor James.

The look on his face when Glenn called him “Dad” was priceless.

A man looking at his son | Source: Midjourney

A man looking at his son | Source: Midjourney

“Faith?” Pastor James said, looking between me and his son. “Glenn, son, is this your young lady?”

“Yes sir,” Glenn said, taking my hand. “Surprised?”

“Well, I’ll be…” Pastor James shook his head, then started laughing. “The Lord sure does work in mysterious ways.”

Looking back now, I can’t help but laugh at how everything unfolded. Sometimes the best blessings come wrapped in the scariest packages, and sometimes the people you think you barely know turn out to be your biggest supporters.

A girl looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A girl looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

And Mama? Well, she’s already picking out baby names and knitting tiny booties.

And just yesterday, she said, “You know, sugar, maybe it’s time I started getting out more. Mrs. Jones’ brother just moved to town…”

Let’s see what happens next.

A woman standing near a window | Source: Pexels

A woman standing near a window | Source: Pexels

If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: Emma’s world was upended when her father abruptly called her home from university, only to demand she vacate her room for her reckless stepbrother. Months later, another urgent call revealed their family home in ruins, igniting a journey of redemption and rebuilding for them all.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

A Model With Hairy Birthmark in the Middle of Forehead Gets Asked to Remove It All the Time, but She Has a Harsh Response

In the world of modeling, beauty standards often dictate how models should look. But Rada Prelevic is proving that embracing what makes you different can be your greatest strength. The 18-year-old model, known as Rada Viic on social media, has captured the world’s attention—not just for her talent, but for a unique feature that sets her apart: a hairy birthmark right in the middle of her forehead.

Despite receiving constant criticism and calls to remove it, Rada refuses to conform. Instead, she proudly embraces her unconventional beauty and responds to negativity with grace, confidence, and unwavering self-love.

She Went Viral for Her Unique Look

Rada’s one-of-a-kind appearance quickly made her a social media sensation. With thousands of followers, she stands out in the modeling industry not just for her striking beauty, but for her confidence in owning her natural features.

Her hairy birthmark, which extends from her forehead in long strands, has sparked endless debates online. Some are fascinated by her rare genetic trait, while others flood her comments with harsh criticism, rude remarks, and demands to shave it off.

But instead of hiding or apologizing for her uniqueness, Rada took to social media to address her haters head-on.

In a candid video, she firmly declared:
“I love my hair. I won’t shave it. Why does it bother so many people?”

Her words struck a chord with many who have felt pressured to conform to unrealistic beauty standards.

She Was Born With It—And Owns It With Pride

Rada’s distinctive feature isn’t a fashion statement or an attention-seeking gimmick—it’s something she was born with.

Originally from Serbia, Rada has lived in Oslo, Norway, since she was five years old. In one of her videos, she explained that her forehead hair is part of a birthmark, and there’s no medical explanation for why it grew in such a unique way.

Instead of viewing it as a flaw, she has learned to embrace it as a special part of who she is.

She Shuts Down Haters With Style and Confidence

Not everyone understands why Rada refuses to remove her forehead hair. Some people react with genuine curiosity, while others attack her appearance out of ignorance or cruelty.

Negative comments like:

  • “I wanna cut it off so bad.”
  • “This is just for attention.”
  • “It doesn’t have to be there.”

…have flooded her posts, but Rada never lets them break her confidence.

Instead of engaging in negativity, she responds with grace, wit, and self-assurance.

At the same time, she has gained a loyal following of supporters who admire her fearlessness and celebrate her unique beauty.

One fan wrote:
“You are my number one idol from today on!”

Another commented:
“You’re proof that true beauty is about confidence, not perfection.”

Her Hair Has Boosted Her Modeling Career

What some people call “weird”, the fashion industry calls “iconic”.

Rada’s hairy birthmark has become her signature feature, making her stand out in an industry that’s always looking for the next big thing.

Instead of trying to fit into conventional beauty norms, Rada leans into her uniqueness, and top fashion magazines, designers, and photographers love her for it.

Her rare look sets her apart from other models, giving her an edge that many professionals find intriguing and unforgettable.

She Won’t Change for Anyone—Not Even for Love

Rada’s self-confidence isn’t limited to just her career—it extends to her personal life as well.

In matters of love and relationships, she has made one thing clear:
She will never change herself for someone else’s approval.

She has openly stated that she would never date someone who doesn’t fully accept her for who she is.

For Rada, authenticity is non-negotiable—whether it’s in the fashion industry, her personal life, or the way she carries herself every day.

A Symbol of Self-Acceptance and Individuality

Rada Prelevic’s story is a powerful reminder that beauty isn’t about fitting in—it’s about standing out and embracing who you truly are.

Her ability to handle criticism with confidenceturn hate into empowerment, and use her uniqueness to build a thriving career is inspiring millions around the world.

She’s proving that being different is not just okay—it’s extraordinary.

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