I read the story of a single mother here saying she doesnt know what to do and cant see a way out. That made me want to share mine. Not to judge anyone, but because when you have kids and youre in need, you cant just sit back and wait for money to drop from the sky. No one handed me anything. I fought for it all myself.
I left home when I was 16. Stubborn, naive, I thought I was grown up, convinced that living with my boyfriend would be better for me. We ended up in a tiny studio flat the kitchen was right next to the living room, the bedroom was barely separated by a thin wall, and the bathroom was outside in a little yard. It wasnt anything fancy, but it was ours. Two years later, just after my eighteenth birthday, I got pregnant with our first child. At first, everything felt somewhat normal. He drove a cab, brought money home for food, we paid the rent. There wasnt anything extra, but we were getting by.
When my son was nearly one, I noticed he started bringing home less and less money. There was always an excuse bad time of year, too many cabs, a problem with his car. I believed him. Then I fell pregnant again with my daughter. When I was four months along, he simply left. No warning. One day, he came in, grabbed some clothes, and moved in with another woman.
What hurt the most wasnt just that he left me. It was that afterwards, everyone started talking neighbours, family, people around the block. Theyd seen him with her for months, waiting on corners, staying at hers. No one told me a word while I was still with him. I found everything out once I was on my own, pregnant and with a toddler.
He vanished completely. Didnt ask about the kids, didnt give so much as a penny for nappies. I sat on the floor and cried all day. I looked at the nearly empty fridge, watched the milk running low, baby number two on the way, rent soon due, no baby clothes, no cot. I cried, yes. But the next day, I got up and told myself: I cant just stay like this.
I started out right there in that tiny flat. I ordered groceries on trust. I made jellies, puddings, little cakes. Snapped pictures with my phone and posted them on WhatsApp and Instagram. I didnt lie. I wrote honestly: Selling homemade desserts to buy nappies and milk. People started buying. Some out of sympathy, others because they liked them. From that money, I paid for groceries, saved towards rent, managed to get the essentials.
Then I started making lunches to order rice, lentil stew, chicken casserole, mince. A bloke in the area delivered it on his motorbike for me, and I paid him per delivery. I was up at five in the morning cooking, large with child and my little boy at my side. Some days I was so worn out, Id sit down on a chair and cry quietly. But the next morning, I was back at the stove.
I saved every penny I could. When my due date drew close, my mum called and said to come home to them, not to be alone. My daughter was born there. Ever since, my parents have been my rock. They dont support me financially, but they keep me standing helping out with the kids when I have orders to fill.
Now, my son is six years old. My daughter is growing fast. My mum and I set up a little cake business together. Its not a big company, but weve got a small room where we make birthday cakes, dessert tables, party orders. Were not rich, but I dont go to bed hungry, and I dont lie awake wondering how Ill feed my children tomorrow.
I know how much it hurts when a man leaves a woman and her kids. None of its fair. But I also know this you cant wait for someone to rescue you. No one came to rescue me. When youve got children, giving up isnt an option.
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