I once read the story of a single mother who wrote about feeling lost, not knowing what to do, and seeing no way out. It made me think of my own story, one I feel compelled to sharenot to judge anyone, but to show that when you have children and are in need, you cannot simply sit and wait for money to fall from the sky. No one gave me anything. I had to fight for it myself.
I left home when I was sixteen. Stubborn and foolish, I thought I was grown up, and believed that life with my boyfriend would be better than the one I had. We moved into a tiny bedsitjust a kitchenette in the corner, a thin wall separating the living area, and a bathroom outside in the small garden. It wasnt luxurious, but it was ours. Two years later, just after I turned eighteen, I fell pregnant with my first child. At first, things seemed normal enough. He drove a taxi for work and brought home enough money for groceries and rent. We never had anything extra, but we never starved.
When my son was nearly a year old, I began to notice he was bringing home less and less money. There was always some excusea slow season, too much competition, issues with the car. I believed him. And then I found myself pregnant againwith my daughter. Four months in, he simply walked out. No warning. He came home one day, grabbed a few clothes, and went off to live with another woman.
The worst pain wasnt simply that he left me. It was that, afterwards, everyone started talkingneighbours, family, people from our street. That hed been seen with her for months, that she waited for him at corners, that he spent nights at hers. No one told me while I was still with him. I only learned the truth when I was alone, pregnant, and caring for a small child.
He disappeared completely. Never asked after the children. Never sent even a penny for nappies. I remember sitting on the floor, crying the whole day. The fridge was nearly empty, the milk was running out, rent was due soon, there were no clothes or crib for the new baby. I cried. But the next day, I decided I couldnt stay like that.
I started from that little flat. I ordered ingredients on trust. I baked jellies, dessert cups, small cakes. I snapped photos with my phone and posted them on my Facebook and WhatsApp stories. I was honest: Selling puddings and cakes so I can buy nappies and milk. People began to buysome out of pity, some because they liked them. With that money I paid for groceries, saved for rent, and bought essentials.
Then I began cooking lunches to orderrice, lentil soup, chicken stew, minced beef. A man from our neighbourhood would deliver the food on his scooter, and I paid him per trip. Id get up at five in the morning to cook, my belly huge, my little son playing at my feet. Some days I was so exhausted, Id sink into a chair and quietly cry, but the following day Id light the stove again.
I saved every pound I could. When my due date neared, my mum phoned and told me to come home to her. I shouldnt be alone. My daughter was born there. Since then, my parents have been my strength. They dont support us with money, but they help keep me uprightthey watch the children when I have orders.
Today, my son is six. My daughter grows quickly. Together with my mum, we’ve built a small cake businessnot a grand company, but we have a modest space, and make birthday cakes and sweets for parties and local events. We arent rich, but I dont go to bed hungry, nor do I lie awake worrying therell be nothing for my children tomorrow.
I know all too well the pain when a man leaves a woman with children. It’s not fair. But I also know this: you can’t wait around for someone to rescue you. No one came for me. When youre a parent, giving up simply isnt an option.
