The moment I realized I was pregnant, I knew I wasn’t getting a father for my children, only a donor. Everything about my situation made it clear that the responsibility was mine alone. The decision now rested with me, and I chose to keep the pregnancy. I was determined, and thankfully, my late mother stood by me, ready to go on that journey with me.
I became very strategic. I started saving every little bit I could. I worked extra jobs, took more hours, and cut out every unnecessary expense. By the time I gave birth to my twins, I had managed to put aside enough money to meet their needs. My late mother also gave me some money before she passed, and that helped a lot.
But my first mistake was buying things without guidance. With no one to advise me, I went shopping with a friend and bought so many items the babies didn’t even need. I was simply excited, but looking back, it was wasteful.
When I delivered my twins, I was proud that I could pay the hospital bills myself, which ran into hundreds of thousands. That moment gave me courage. For the naming ceremony, my dad and uncle sent money, and friends and colleagues also gave us cash gifts. I thought to myself, “I’ve got this, this journey will be smooth.”
But reality soon set in. I had to pay people to help care for the babies because I could not handle everything on my own, especially with my health. It drained me financially and emotionally. At one point, I was even threatened and blackmailed for money, with people saying my children could be taken away.
I didn’t even know the basics of caring for myself after surgery. No one told me not to take cold drinks, or to use hot water. No one bathed me or guided me on recovery. I suffered severe back pain, and bathing the twins was impossible unless I stood. My house had no proper setup, no table or sink. I had to figure everything out on my own, often the hard way.
When it became too much, I decided to hire a nanny. It meant a big part of my income went to her, but I wanted things done the way I felt was best for my children. I didn’t want to just accept anything out of helplessness. Around this time, I sold my gold jewelry at Teshuosho to buy food and toiletries for the month. It was painful but necessary.
Sometimes, I would strap one baby on my back, while the nanny carried the other, and we would go out looking for house-cleaning jobs or curtain work just so we could repay the provisions we had taken on credit from the security guard. That was how we survived.
Along the way, hurtful words came from family too. An uncle once told his daughter not to visit me because I was not a good role model, simply because I had children out of wedlock. An aunt once called me to insult me over a Facebook post that was not even directed at her. She had never checked on me, never called to know how we were doing, yet she had the audacity to cuss me out. I cried bitterly that day. It broke me because I had once trusted her enough to think I could leave my children in her care.
All this pushed me to the edge, and there were times I became suicidal. But even in those dark moments, I held on for my children.
Over the years, parenting has been tough, but one thing has remained constant—God’s mercies. For ten years, my children never lacked good clothes or shoes. Many times, strangers, former students of my late mother, or even people I met through Facebook sent us boxes of clothes and shoes. I barely had to buy much in that area. Truly, God was faithful.
I learned how to manage money. As soon as I paid school fees for one term, I began saving for the next. Yes, I begged for help sometimes, but only after I had done all I could and still found myself stuck. I took on extra work, reopened my mother’s small business, and pushed myself harder. I avoided parties, didn’t buy things for myself, and relied on clothes sent by close friends. My only goal was to give my children the best life I could.
Some people called me anti-social, but I knew my priorities. My social life could wait; bills couldn’t. And through it all, God showed up. Many times, I would be worrying about how to solve a problem, and someone would just send me money or call to say they felt led to help us.
My children grew with me on this journey. I never hid anything from them. They knew how much I had and what plans I made for it. Even when they couldn’t understand, I talked to them because they were my only companions. Now that they are older, our conversations are even better.
I often tell them, “I’ve never been a parent before. Take me as I am, but know that with God on our side, we will not fail.”
And that is our truth. Ten years down the line, we are still standing, not because it was easy, but because God never left us.
