This article is part of Upstream, The Daily Wire’s new home for culture and lifestyle. Real human insight and human stories — from our featured writers to you.

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I grew up a “child on the margins,” a child of addicts and therefore a child of chaos. I had what I considered to be a normal life: school, dance, parents arguing, checking pulses, and praying the lights turned on. My parents loved me greatly, but their love was limited to what they knew. My parents’ addiction existed long before I did; it was no surprise that it stayed as I grew up. I learned to be the responsible one of the family.

When I was 14, we lost my dad to his addiction, and the last thread of our chaotic lives began to unravel. My mom and I became unprovided for and unprotected. We were helpless and homeless for three months. We begged, borrowed, and stole to get by. We wore every valuable possession we had left and stayed on guard. While we were homeless, my mom found friends more dangerous than the last few, and while she was in jail again, they turned on me and assaulted me. My dad’s death brought new extremes to my life that had only existed in nightmares.

When my mom was released from jail, we had a “new start.” I registered at a different school. But the cycle continued, and my mom went to jail again. This time it was different. The teachers, police officers, and caseworkers actually noticed me. They noticed not only that I was alone, but they also noticed me: my personality, preferences, and emotions. They wanted to know more and help me. As I began to trust them, I shared my trauma and memories with them and then with Harmony House Children’s Advocacy Center. This led to being placed in foster care.

In April 2020, I was placed with my foster family. With a simple hour-long drive and a duffel bag in the doorway, I was introduced to lively, fun, healthy, and joyful chaos, the type of chaos caused by happy children rather than unhappy adults. The family had two loving parents, five biological children, and one other foster child. They all stood and stared as they watched “the new kid,” eyes full of curiosity and compassion.

After much food, play, “trauma dumping,” and hibernation, just 12 days later, at age 15, I found out I was pregnant.

At this new place, I was separated from everything and everyone I knew, good and bad. I wondered how attached to this new life I could become. Even with every uncertainty, I became a mom in an instant. I thought, “It can’t be harder than raising my own mother.”

Though I was fearful, I knew that as a mother to my own child, I was responsible for him. Fearing the family’s reaction and judgment, I trembled and waited. I feared being kicked out and abandoned again. My foster mother noticed my anxiety. Instead of judging, putting me down, or kicking me out, she gently explained, “We will keep and love you and your baby if you’d like to stay. We are glad to raise you and your baby.”

Thankful to have such reassurance, I set off with her for my first ultrasound on May 1. That afternoon, my excitement disappeared when we went to my old house to get a few of my things for the baby and found my mother, who had overdosed.

In one year of my life, I became fatherless, homeless, assaulted, a foster child, a mom, and an orphan. Somehow, I dared to hope just one more time that this would be my last “new start.” I’ve learned you can be bitter or get better. I chose to settle into my new life and learn.

As I watched my foster family interact, I realized they did not live their everyday lives in fear, guilt, and shame. I wanted that life of love for my child and wondered how I could make it my son’s reality too. Later, God showed me the best way to have that life for him was to learn how to live it myself. I learned that my second mom and dad had their own problems and their own pasts, but they chose to live life together and to show love every day. I learned to hope, and my son became my inspiration. Hope became the reason I could choose life for not only my son, but for myself too.

Every mom has a story before motherhood with mixed feelings surrounding it. What matters is what we choose to do despite our baggage. My life today is beyond what I ever hoped for in my wonders or my worries. Daily, it is full of joyful chaos and full of love, structure, and consistency. Part of my daily life is YoungLives, a teen mom support group. We still meet several times a month, where I am reminded I am far from alone. I’ve been with YoungLives for five years now, and as I have grown into adulthood and welcomed a couple more children, I have become an example of what a little hope and resources can do.

Today, I am a friend and aid to other teenage mothers. As we sit around the supper table or play games, I get to listen to their joys and troubles, whether mundane or extreme. And because of the life I have lived, I can even relate to them. As they share, they may not realize that until I say something to the effect of, “I remember those times.” Many girls have responded with anger or disgust, but once I explain a bit about my story, they quickly realize that I was and still am one of them, just further down the line.

It is one of my greatest joys that when people look at me today, they do not see the pain and hurt of my past. Instead, they can see the love of a mother and friend. Today it is my choice and honor to get to share what a little hope can do.

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Angel Rassi is a Christian wife and stay-at-home mother of two children — with another on the way. She works with teen mothers and their families through Ohio Valley YoungLives.

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I Lost Everything. Then One Unexpected Pregnancy Changed My Future.