The Early Years of Motherhood

My girl ❤️

After walking through the fears of becoming pregnant so young, I think it’s important to show you what my actual days looked like. Daily life as a young mom was all that you envision—work, school, taking care of my baby, rinse and repeat. I was so blessed to live with my mother, who watched her for me three days a week while I worked or attended classes at the local community college. That alone made the transition to motherhood so much more doable. Through this, I gained a huge respect for single parents who have no support and are literally doing this on their own. They are the real MVPs.

I worked in retail, and I was also going to school to get my associates in early childhood education. I have vivid memories of her playing on the floor next to me while I typed away at the computer. That rhythm worked well for us.

When my daughter was around five months old, I learned that the daycare I had enrolled her in two days a week was looking for help. Without much thought, I applied. I knew I could use all the money I could get, and I absolutely loved the thought of being with my daughter all day! I distinctly remember thinking, “I want to see her walk for the first time, not have someone tell me about it.” I got the job and worked those two jobs while going to school for a few years.

I didn’t go out with friends much. Occasionally, I’d stop by a popular hangout spot and catch up, but most of my time was spent at work, school, or taking care of my daughter. I knew my friends’ lives were different than mine, but I tried not to dwell on that. Still, sometimes I thought about how I was home on a Saturday night caring for my baby while my peers were out with friends, carefree. I also knew I would never experience what it was like to live in a dorm at college. For years, that thought bothered me, like I was missing out, but now I know I wasn’t. I was right where I was supposed to be.

I was grateful for that daycare job. I got to witness most of her firsts myself, which brought me so much joy. I was there when she sat up, crawled, and took her first steps. I remember wishing she’d walk for her first birthday, but she decided a week later was the best time! I’ll never regret taking that job, no matter how hard it was to pull her out of bed so early in the morning so I could get to work on time.

Even with all those sweet milestone moments, there was another weight I carried…

Me and my daughter at my sister's wedding.

Something that made those early years especially hard was my relationship with my daughter’s father. We were together, but I knew deep down we were two totally different people, and it wasn’t going to work out. Yet I longed to give my daughter a true family. The thought of her growing up traveling back and forth between us made me stay longer than I should have. That conflict just made things harder to navigate. I pretended everything was okay in front of my daughter, but inside I knew it wasn’t.

Looking back, I don’t even know where I found my strength. Honestly, I think it was my daughter who gave me the strength I needed day after day. I believed in God but felt so far away from Him. I thought He was upset with me about my choices, so I brushed Him aside and stopped praying altogether. I carried so much guilt about putting my daughter in a situation where her parents weren’t married and weren’t even sure they’d stay together. To cope, I poured everything I had into shielding her from as much of it as I could. And in turn, she gave me the strength to keep going. When I wanted to quit, I looked at her and thought, I can’t. She needs me. She was my angel from above. When my strength felt gone, she reminded me that love was enough.

Motherhood matured me quickly. I no longer had the luxury of thinking only of myself—I had my little girl to think about, too. There was no room for selfishness. I worked two jobs to support us, kept going to college to hopefully get a better-paying job, and poured everything into her. I didn’t have many friends and didn’t go out like most 19- or 20-year-olds. I was a mother. To me, that meant putting my head down and giving everything I had to building a good life for my daughter.

Those early years were a blur of exhaustion, responsibility, and love. I didn’t have the chance to figure out who I was before becoming a mom—I figured it out while becoming one. The milestones, the sleepless nights, the long days at work and school—they shaped me into someone I never expected to be at 19 or 20. I wasn’t perfect, but I was determined.

And while I thought I was the one raising my daughter, the truth is, she was raising me too. Those years, as hard as they were, became the foundation for the mother I would continue to grow into. They taught me resilience, sacrifice, and the deep kind of love that only grows in the middle of both joy and struggle.