Baby Mama with the Crown

Dear Diary
October 9, 2025

Let’s talk about the woman who was good enough to be slept with… but not good enough to love. The one we’d scroll past on Instagram—no filter, no favourites—just tired eyes, always second place. The sister who got picked last and the wife no one wanted. But you know, Heaven doesn’t choose based on cheekbones.

Her name? Leah — the substitute bride. Slipped under the veil because her own father didn’t believe she was worth waiting for. Jacob didn’t ask for her. He didn’t even realise it was her. He woke up and said, “What is this you have done to me?” Translation: Sir, maybe check your wine volume — or your bride — before the honeymoon.

Imagine being that girl—the “What is this?” girl. The disappointment. The one they regret. Given, not chosen. Used, not pursued. Pregnant… but still empty.

And yet, Leah had a womb full of destiny. She just didn’t know it yet.

She started out fighting for love. She said, “Now my husband will love me because I have borne him a son. Now I’ll be noticed. Now I’ll be enough.” Reuben. Simeon. Levi. Each child was a cry for connection— baby-naming as emotional therapy: effective? No. Relatable? Highly. Each name, a bandage over the same wound: Please choose me. Every pregnancy was a desperate plea wrapped in performance. But nothing changed. Jacob still loved Rachel. Rachel had his attention. Rachel had his heart. Leah just had his babies.

But then something shifted.

When she gave birth to her fourth son, Leah stopped striving. She stopped naming her pain for Jacob and started naming her praise to God. “This time,” she said, “I will praise the Lord.” So she named him Judah. And everything changed.

That was the turning point—the moment striving gave way to surrender. Comparison gave way to consecration. A woman discarded by man was chosen by God. And Heaven said: Now we’re ready.

Leah didn’t know it, but Judah would become the tribe of kings. From that tribe came David. And from David’s line, the Lion of Judah—Jesus. Not through Rachel, the favoured one. Not through beauty, popularity, or romantic love. But through the girl nobody wanted—an everlasting kingdom.

Some of us are Leahs.

Not the one they text back. Not the one they choose. Not the one anyone waits seven years for. We get passed over. We try to be enough. We’re tolerated while trying to win love that was never ours to earn. We keep giving, keep birthing, keep hoping… and still feel unseen.

But God is not like Jacob.

He sees the one in the corner. The one with tear-soaked pillows. The one trying to worship while bleeding. And He says: Through you, I will bring forth praise. Through you, I will raise up kings. Through you, I will do something eternal.

So maybe you’re not loved by them. Maybe you’re like Leah—who started out as “What is this?” but ended up as “This is the one I will use.”

Leah spent so long trying to earn the love of a man, when God had already written her into the story of salvation. She thought she was competing with Rachel, but God wasn’t watching that fight. He was building a kingdom through her pain. Heaven’s plot twists hit different.

Hmm…I repeat. You might not be the one they post about. You might not be trending. You might be unnoticed, unmatched, and undercelebrated. But Heaven sees you. And Heaven still chooses you.

Because when love doesn’t choose you… God still does.

So stop being fickle. Stop being superficial. God is not looking for the best body or the loudest applause. He’s looking for praise. He’s looking for worship. He’s looking for someone who’s tired of performing—and ready to surrender.

I just want you to think for a minute: What if the pain you’re resenting is the praise God is building?

So when you’re not the one they want? Abeg, rest. Repost your selfie, refill your joy. You’re not overlooked. You’re undercover royalty.

May this be the month you stop begging to be chosen—and start believing you already are.
Remember: “They called her a baby mama.
But God crowned her anyway.”

Yours — in surrender and praise,

If this made you laugh (or think), wait till you read the last one. Go on, treat yourself.

Confessions of a Prodigal Skirt Wearer – Olú Abíkóyè

The Boy in My Dream – Olú Abíkóyè

The Wisest Fool – Olú Abíkóyè

How Weak Can You Be? – Samson Had One Damn Job – Olú Abíkóyè