Unplanned & Unashamed: Vicky’s Story of Unplanned Pregnancy Used for God’s Glory

I knew when I hung up the phone that afternoon that my life would change forever. The girl I was before becoming pregnant at 18 feels so far away now. I had just graduated high school a few weeks earlier and felt like the world was at my fingertips. My plan was clear: go to college, get married, and then start a family. I had never even considered staying home with my future children—my mom was a labor and delivery nurse who loved her career, and I always assumed I’d be a working mom too. I even had daydreams about what my wedding would be like, what names I’d give my kids, and what kind of husband I’d marry.

But underneath those dreams, I was wrestling with my faith. I had been raised Catholic—church every weekend, all the sacraments—but by my late teens, I was questioning everything. I knew that God existed, but did I need to go to church to believe in him? Did I have to follow all these rules in order to believe in him? I had a lot of questions and didn’t feel comfortable enough to ask anyone about them. Eventually, I stopped going to church and disengaged altogether. Looking back now, I can see God’s hand all over my journey into and in motherhood, but at the time, I would have never thought he would continue to guide me when I had just stopped engaging with him.

The moment I found out I was pregnant, I was in total shock. I had just moved over 3,000 miles away from everything familiar, and suddenly I was carrying a child. Once the initial shock gave way to other emotions, the fear set in. How was I going to do this?

The first person I told was the baby’s father. To my relief, he immediately said abortion was not an option. I had been nervous about that conversation, but his quick “no” gave me peace. Deep down, even though I had stepped away from my faith, I knew abortion wasn’t something I could ever consider. I knew the risks I was taking when I decided to become sexually active, and now that one of those risks came to fruition, it was my responsibility to have the child and raise it the best I knew how. I felt very strongly about that. Yes, I grew up in the church hearing that abortion was wrong, but the driving force was personal responsibility. I didn’t get to just get rid of a life because I made a choice to engage in risky behavior. So, to my relief he said no abortion, but no matter what he said, it wasn’t going to happen. I just felt too strongly against it.

I then called my mom. The only thing I remember about that conversation was her asking if she could call me back after I told her I was pregnant. The silence on the other end of the line felt like it stretched on forever before those words came out. As a mother now, I can only imagine the thoughts racing through her mind in that moment—but at 18, all I felt was shame. Her pause felt like confirmation of what shame was already screaming at me: that I had disappointed her beyond repair. That I wasn’t just letting her down at this moment, but undoing every hope and expectation she had ever carried for me. I’m sure like most mothers, she hoped for me to go to college, start my career, get married and THEN have children. I can imagine that moment shattered all those dreams she carried.

Mom, Dad, my sister—everyone was shocked when I told them. Even years later, they would still say they “never expected this from me.” I had always been the “goody two-shoes,” the girl who didn’t break the rules or cause trouble. Hearing those words stung more than I let on, because they reminded me of who I was supposed to be, and how far I had fallen short. The weight of that shame followed me everywhere. I carried it into family gatherings, convinced people were silently disappointed in me. I carried it into church, where I felt unworthy to even sing the songs I had sung my whole life. I carried it into the quiet moments alone, when my own thoughts told me over and over that I had ruined everything. The shame was so heavy at times it nearly crushed me, and for years I let it define me more than the love of God ever did. I felt so lost and lonely, but God was carrying me, I just didn’t know it.

Deep down, though, I knew I needed to go back home and be close to my mom and family, if I had any chance of raising this baby well. The child’s father and I briefly discussed adoption, but I knew from the very beginning that I was keeping this baby. No one could talk me out of it. Looking back now, I see God’s strength in me during that moment—the courage to return home, less than three months after leaving, was His way of carrying me.

The choice to carry this child was never really a question in my heart. Yes, I was scared and overwhelmed, but I also knew I had made choices that led me here. To me, terminating the pregnancy would have been selfish. I had always dreamed of being a mom one day, and while this wasn’t the way I pictured it, I clung to that desire to help me through the uncertainty.

Of course, there were fears—that I’d never get out of debt, that life would always be hard. I feared that I would never get ahead in life, financially or otherwise, and I feared deeply that I would be damaged goods and no one was going to want to love someone who already had a baby to add to the relationship right away—but none of the fears made me doubt my decision for even a second. This was my child. She may not have been born in “ideal” circumstances, but she was mine.

Daily life with my girl once she was born was good. I was so happy to have her here and to finally be her mom. But it was lonely. And even in the joy of holding her, shame didn’t vanish. I would rock her at night and marvel at her tiny fingers, feeling proud that she was mine. Yet in the quiet, shame still crept in. It whispered, “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You’re not doing this the right way.” I loved her fiercely, but I carried the weight of believing that because of my age and circumstances, I wasn’t enough.

Most of the caregiving fell to me alone. Her father was in Arizona, and though I lived with my mom many states away, she didn’t step in to take over much (which I’m grateful for, looking back). My daughter woke up every two hours to eat for nearly a year, and I worked two jobs—but strangely, I don’t remember feeling tired. I just remember putting one foot in front of the other, day after day. I felt like everything rested on my shoulders, but God was already holding what I couldn’t…I just didn’t know it then.

When she was about five months old, the daycare she attended a couple of days a week asked if I’d be interested in helping out. I jumped at the opportunity—it meant more income, but more importantly, it meant being with her and witnessing all her firsts. That decision became the start of a lifelong path I never expected. I worked at that daycare for eight years, and when I married, I opened my own in-home childcare so I could continue to stay with my kids. What I thought was just a side job turned into a calling—and I can see now how God was guiding me into that work.

I have no regrets. I don’t believe in living with regret. I know I wasn’t perfect and I made mistakes, but I can say with confidence that my heart and intentions were always for her best. I chose life for her, even though I knew it was going to be hard, and I’m so proud of that decision. Choosing to have her gave me growth in myself as a person that would have never happened if I didn’t choose to have her. I loved her with everything I had, and I can sleep at night knowing that’s true.

Today, my beautiful daughter is married with two children of her own. She lives just 15 minutes away, and I get the joy of watching my grandchildren every day. Watching your children become parents is incredible—it’s like seeing the fruit of all those unseen sacrifices, and now I get to pass along wisdom (when asked!) from my years of motherhood.

The Lord has written redemption into my story in ways I never could have imagined. Even when I wasn’t seeking Him, He was guiding me—giving me a path when I couldn’t see one, courage when I thought I had none, and eventually hope that I could still live a good life despite my failures. The poem Footprints in the Sand (see below) has always been a favorite of mine, but now it carries so much more meaning. Truly, He carried me.

To the girl reading this who finds herself in a similar place..maybe feeling shame in the same way I was at 18, or considering the future for your unborn baby: you are good. You are not damaged goods. This does not mean you are destined for a “hard” life as punishment for what you did or didn’t do. You are loved. You are stronger than you think. God created you to already have inside you what you need to mother and love your baby. Yes, there is a lot to learn, but you will learn it step by step.

Don’t give in to fear—it will rob you of hope. This journey won’t be easy or perfect, but believing in yourself, trusting God, and leaning on your support system or a pregnancy resource center or mentor will help you rise above the hardest moments.

God will use your motherhood, if you let Him. He will use it and refine you in ways you never imagined. Your child will teach you as much as you teach them. You will find that you need each other.

And to my younger self—I would tell her she was brave. That she didn’t need to carry the weight of shame for so many years. That this story wouldn’t ruin her but would shape her into someone stronger and softer all at once. God saw every sleepless night, every hard decision made with her baby’s best interest in mind. And He says: You did good. ❤️

Footprints In the Sand

One night a man had a dream.

He dreamed he was walking along the beach with the Lord.

Across the sky flashed scenes from his life.

For each scene, he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand:

one belonging to him, and the other to the Lord.

When the last scene of his life flashed before him,

he looked back at the footprints in the sand.

He noticed that many times along the path of his life there was only one set of footprints.

He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life.

This really bothered him and he questioned the Lord about it.

“Lord, You said that once I decided to follow you,

You’d walk with me all the way.

But I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life,

there is only one set of footprints.

I don’t understand why, when I needed you most, you would leave me.”

The Lord replied,

“My son, My precious child, I love you and I would

never leave you. During your times of trial and

suffering, when you see only one set of footprints,

it was then that I Carried You.”

Vicky Gagnon is a wife, mom, a now “Meme,” and writer who helps moms thrive by sharing gentle rhythms, heartfelt stories, and practical tips. Married to her husband Kevin for 20 years, she has raised two of her three children to adulthood and is “Meme” to two beautiful grandchildren. Vicky brings wisdom, warmth, and real-life experience to everything she shares. You can find more of her writing at her blog.

Find Vicky on Instagram here 

To learn more about Vicky’s story, check out some of her related blog posts where she bravely shares more in depth, titled & linked below: 

Why I am Sharing My Story, The Day Everything Changed, or Facing the World

As always, Vicky welcomes you to message her or reach out to connect for support, encouragement, or community over on Instagram! If you’ve made it this far, leave Vicky a comment below or on her blog and thank her for sharing her story so generously with us.