20 years on........motherhood reflections

I can still recall the sinking feeling in my stomach when I saw the two solid lines on the pregnancy test. In that moment, I truly believed my life as I knew it was over—and in many ways, it was. The life of an ignored adolescent, uncertain and unaware of her purpose, came to an end. But the life that followed? I could never have imagined it as I stared at those two lines while my sister launched into a lecture.

I grieved the loss of the bright future I had envisioned—though, in hindsight, it was a future without much direction—for exactly two days. Then, I shifted into survival mode. However, I did so with a mindset of responsibility, determined to be a mother who rose to the challenge. That, I believe, was my saving grace.

When you become a mother—especially at a young age—society has a long list of reasons why you will fail. There is an unshakable confidence from the world around you that you are destined to struggle. But as a stubborn 15-year-old girl, I was determined to prove them wrong. Though, I must admit, the journey didn’t unfold quite as I had imagined—life has a way of surprising us like that.

As a child, I dreamed of having a big family, picturing a brood of six kids. But today, I sit here, deeply content with my two. It’s funny how, when you look back, you can barely recognize the person you once were. Your biggest dreams from the past feel distant and almost foreign, yet you know in your heart you have surpassed them in ways you never could have predicted.

The day my son was born was the day my life truly changed—for the better. In him, I found my purpose. I was given the incredible responsibility of loving and caring for this little human, even though, at the time, I wasn’t entirely sure what love was supposed to look like. But I had a deep sense that I would recognize it when I saw it. I may not have fully found my own sense of love and belonging in this world yet, but I have learned to give love freely and ensure those around me feel like they belong. And that, in itself, has been a beautiful journey.

Somehow, 20 years have passed, and tomorrow my son turns 20. As a mother, I couldn’t be prouder. He has grown into a decent, responsible man who has made my journey far smoother than I ever anticipated. For that, I thank and honor you, Anthony. I absolutely love you, and no matter what happens in this world, know that I will always be on your team, standing by your side.

Through it all, I recognize that I have not walked this journey alone. Though I may be a single mother, I have undoubtedly been in partnership with God every step of the way. His grace has sustained me, His protection has covered us, and His love has given me the strength to keep going. I am deeply grateful for His presence in our lives, guiding us through every challenge and blessing us in ways I never expected.

Cheers to you as you step onto the "second floor" of life. It’s only up from here, and I am so excited to watch you tap into your magic and become even more incredible in the years to come.

Happy birthday, my son. 🥂

2024!

This past year has been one of my toughest yet. For the first time, I experienced true depression—a deep sadness that hurt in ways I never imagined. I’ve always considered myself resilient, a tough cookie, but this year was different. The challenges felt unending, and no matter what I did to remedy the pain, nothing seemed to work. At times, even breathing felt like an effort, and pushing forward seemed impossible. I cried in private, as I always have, and put on a brave face for the world every single day. I showed up, even when it felt robotic and meaningless.

And yet, in a strange way, routine saved me. Having daily responsibilities forced me to keep going, not just for myself but for those who counted on me. The stakes were too high to give up, even though deep down, I wanted to. For the first time ever, I doubted myself—I questioned whether I had what it takes to win at life. My mind was a battlefield of arguments, but something in me always pushed back. A voice inside reminded me that I didn’t come this far just to quit now. I hadn’t climbed this mountain just to set down my tools before reaching the peak. I have promised myself a beautiful life, and I refuse to give up before I experience its full beauty—even if I don’t yet know what that looks like.

My faith and hope have been my anchors. Even in the darkness, I held on to the belief that the best is yet to come, even if I can’t yet recognize it. This year, I learned to pray not just for strength, but for the wisdom to recognize joy when it finally arrives.

Despite feeling like a complete failure in every aspect of my life, I found the will to keep going. I realized that part of my journey was about overcoming weaknesses, and one of the biggest lessons I learned this year was the importance of grieving—not just for the loss of people but for the loss of love, recognition, and validation. As a society, we grieve for the dead, but we rarely acknowledge the need to grieve for the things we never received—the love we deserved but didn’t get, the efforts we made that went unacknowledged. I had to grieve for the times I felt unseen, unheard, and unloved. But through that grief, I learned to let go and just be.

Another vital lesson I learned is that bottling up pain only leads to an eventual explosion. We are all imperfect, and facing those imperfections has been incredibly liberating for me. So what if I’m not where I thought I would be by now? At least I am here. And my favorite saying remains: better late than never. It’s better to show up today, to learn, to love myself, and to grow into a better version of me than to remain stagnant and continue hurting myself and those around me.

For the longest time, I felt like I had no “receipts” to prove my healing, but I found my first one this year. When I meet new people now, I feel different—I connect more effortlessly, I articulate my thoughts with clarity, and I fear no one. There is a newfound authenticity within me that makes my interactions more meaningful. It’s as if I’ve stepped into the person I was always meant to be. Someone recently described me as “maturing with grace and elegance,” and I think that perfectly sums up the transformation I’ve undergone.

Perhaps my greatest testimony this year is that someone described me as love. That, more than any other compliment I’ve ever received, was the most profound acknowledgment of the person I am becoming.

On the family front, the teenage years are in full swing. Every day brings attitude and underappreciation, but I recognize that this is just part of the journey. I try to remain present and approachable while respecting their individuality. I don’t want to mold them into mini versions of myself—I want to encourage them to be their true selves. There are good days, silent days, and loud, happy days, but one thing remains constant: my presence matters to them. Even when they’re not speaking to me, they want to know I’m there, cooking for them, prioritizing them. And they will always be my top priority.

Yes, this was a difficult year. I struggled, I fell, and I doubted myself. But I made it out alive. And more than that—I emerged stronger. My faith is deeper, my resilience greater, and my understanding of myself clearer than ever before. Growth is never easy; it demands a price. But stagnation is the real enemy. And I am proud to say that, despite everything, I have continued to grow. We gotta keep moving my diamonds and better late than never! Start your healing journey today and enjoy this life from a better healthier place l.

"You handled it so well!"

If only you knew.

If only you knew how my hands trembled when no one

was watching. How I stayed up late, staring at the

ceiling, replaying every moment in my mind, wondering

if did the right thing. If only you knew about the doubts

that whispered in my ear, telling me I wasn't enough

that I wasn't as strong as I pretended to be. I kept my

smile in place, my voice steady, because that's what you

needed to see. But behind closed doors, when no one

was around, I fell apart. The tears 1 held back all day

would spill out, and I'd let myself feel everything I'd been

holding in. If only you knew how much it took to keep

going, to keep pretending that was okay when all I

wanted to do was hide

You saw the calm, the composure, the smile that never

wavered. But you didn't see the cracks, the moments

when I doubted myself, the times when I wondered how

much longer 1 could keep it all together. I made it look

easy because that's what everyone needed to see. But

inside, I was fighting battles no one knew about, and

every day was just another round

If only you knew ..