I got pregnant at 15, so I learned early what judgment feels like. The stares, the whispers, the people who thought my life was already over before it had even begun. I got used to it—sort of. You build up a wall just to keep going. One afternoon, while standing in line at a corner store with a few groceries and a tired baby on my hip, an elderly woman behind me gently tapped my shoulder. She smiled, handed me a folded $20 bill, and said softly, “Here,
honey. Diapers get expensive.” I was stunned. I barely got out a thank-you before she turned and walked away. Later that evening, when I unfolded the bill, I noticed a small slip of paper tucked inside. In delicate handwriting, it read: “You’re stronger than you think.” I kept that note tucked in my wallet for years. Every time I doubted myself, I’d read it again and feel like maybe—just maybe—I really could do this. Then, years later,
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